Chapter 70 – Circular Logic

After sending Boney to bed and Vorathrex to sleep, Kairon enlisted Sythara for a walk. Together, they headed outside and into the crisp morning air. By his side, the demoness let out a loud huff. “I would have preferred to complete additional tests on your new demon, child.”

“Oh, there’ll be time enough for that later. Besides, I think you’ve learned a fair amount already.”

She bit her lip, before nodding in acquiescence. “I suppose. It is rather peculiar. Did you know that while the wrath within him is great, it is not nearly enough to be a named demon?”

Kairon was wary of how to reply. For this conversation, perhaps caution was warranted. Sythara clearly must suspect by now that his demonic nature was… odd. But to what extent? And did it matter? He honestly wasn’t certain. What he did know, however, was that he didn’t fully trust the demoness. Not yet.

Choosing his words carefully, Kairon tried to tug more on that thread without overplaying his hand. “Really? Then how do you explain Boney’s evolution—and his naming?”

“The other half of his energy, child. His very body was teeming with it. I measured identical traces of that golden energy the human subject had.”

As they spoke, they paced around the citadel district, careful to steer clear of the wrath section of the city. It was unusually quiet despite the late morning hour—Kairon expected Vorathrex to grant the warriors at least several more hours of rest yet.

“If you were to compare the power between Vorathrex and Boney—purely from a measurement perspective—what would you place it at?”

“Mmm? Well, normally I would tell you that Boney should not be a named demon. He should be a newborn, or fledgling as Vorathrex refers to you as. But, again, that is just going off the wrath within him.”

That had a lot to unpack. For now, Kairon hooked onto the important bit. “So you’re saying that the only reason the plane chose to bestow a name upon Boney was because the culmination of both energies surpassed the… threshold between newborn and naming?”

“Obviously, child. The plane knows that once a newborn has accumulated enough corruption, it is bestowed a name.”

By newborn, does she mean imps, or something in between? How to ask this..?

“In Boney’s situation, was his newborn stint quite brief?”

Sythara snorted. “If you can call it a stint. The little one never even had their newborn phase.”

“Of course, of course,” he replied absently. Kairon chewed on her words.

Ahh. So there is something between imp and naming. Interesting. But…

“Sythara, you mentioned before that Vorathrex was a rank one demon, and you a rank two. What rank is Boney? You said he is not powerful enough to be considered named, but neither is he a newborn.”

“Ahh. Yes… This is where I am less certain. It depends how you define a demon’s rank. The traditional sense, or…” Sythara gestured with her tentacles at the city around them. “This nest you have made. Those carry two very different scales.”

“Explain both,” insisted Kairon.

“In terms of the plane and my sisterhood, Boney might still be considered a newborn. He would need more wrath corruption.”

“Yet he has a name,” pointed out Kairon.

“Yet he does. And power,” confirmed Sythara. “Which brings us to your nest. In it, Boney is a rank one demon. But understand, child, that this would not be possible where my sisterhood is concerned. There is none of this golden energy.”

She gave him a purposeful look. Seeing it made Kairon feel a bit silly.

Obviously Sythara’s gained quite an amount of insight into my lack of knowledge. Maybe it’s best to stop stepping around the truth here.

Espionage aside, Kairon wasn’t entirely satisfied with her explanation. It seemed needlessly complicated for what it was. Still, he got the gist.

As far as Kairon was concerned, Boney was rank one. That fact alone was incredible when you considered that Vorathrex himself had cost his city an entire ring. Yet, Boney had simply come from the spawning grounds. Of course he’d been nurtured and clawed his way up. But the point remained.

“I warn you, child,” continued Sythara, “I do not know the impact of this mixture of powers, nor the skipping of his proper newborn phase. That big oaf was right about one thing. This is not how it is meant to be. The sum of these parts may or may not be their equal.”

“Do me a favor and keep an eye on Boney and his progression, would you? I’ll speak with our new wolf later about allowing you to do a follow up examination.”

“Really?! That would be a most fascinating pursuit of exper—erm—study. I meant study,” she stressed, noticing the warning glint in Kairon’s expression.

“See that it does, Sythara. See that it does. I won’t tolerate another instance of premature experimentation or escalation of your activities. Sanctioned observation only. Are we clear?”

“Yes, child. We are.”

Despite himself, Kairon found himself believing her. Even so, he wasn’t about to turn a blind eye. She’d proven far too cunning for that.

***

Not long later, Shiny finished with the brood imps’ revised schedule that morning. They’d shifted events around, putting more workers on stone to get just enough to create the ichor well.

Chest puffed, the little supervisor stood proudly in front of the modest hill of small rocks in the stockpile zone.

“Ready master!”

Kairon rubbed the manager’s head. “That we are!”

Since the city was out of wrath slots, and the ichor well was a wrath building, Kairon either needed to replace a structure in the wrath or citadel district to construct it.

The choice was rather obvious. He double-checked his population readout to ensure this would function as he intended:

Regardless of the technicalities, his population readout did consider Boney a major demon. It did not, however, consider the other Red Claws newborns despite their own growth. Meaning either they were categorized as imps until naming, or, more likely, they weren’t to the point of becoming a newborn yet.

Or maybe his readout simply didn’t measure them as such? Too many questions.

Kairon filed that away for now. Something else from the readout caught in his mind. Shortly, his very first void imps would spawn…

That’s going to be quite the treat!

The city lord was simply dying to witness what the new creatures could do. Unfortunately, he’d been forced to create the void spawning grounds later in the day, so he had some time to wait yet.

For now, a new building! One that he was nearly as excited for.

In regards to the ichor well, his plan was simple. Replace the camp in his citadel district. They had three rookeries and three camps. Before long, he planned on entirely upgrading the latter to rookeries.

“Okay everyone! Here goes,” he announced.

Shiny and several brood imps clapped.

“New!”

“Ohh!”

“Here go!”

“Weee!”

Not quite as enthusiastic, Sythara let out a stifled yawn.

Calling up his interface, Kairon focused his intent to create the well on the camp just in front of the citadel. A notification appeared:

Without hesitation, the city lord answered in the affirmative.

Immediately the brood imps stiffened. The power of the plane took over, guiding their actions. An enormous violet ritual circle blazed to life, similar to that of the rookery. As a larger and more complex building, it required both a bigger ritual and more materials.

As the imps worked to gather everything required, thoughts of decoding and understanding the demonic language came back to Kairon’s mind. Of all the violent letters, their harsh shaping, and what they represented.

He itched to find out. It was a motivation that struck at his very core. To reach out with his claws, and barter for the trade of a lifetime.

Letting out a sharp sigh, Kairon resisted. He wanted to. Really wanted to. But now was not the time. Operation Shakeout was a day away, and the new source energy those paladins brought might offer a new way to interface with the plane. To achieve what he wanted. Learning all the secrets both this plane and the next had to offer, and synthesizing them into a method to go beyond what this rudimentary system offered—or at the very least supplement it.

Tearing his gaze away, he angled his vision upwards. At the wafting steam, scents of sulfuric metals, and growing presence. Only, it wasn’t upwards, but downwards that the real action took place.

With a slurping sound, the camp sunk into the flashing void beneath. A rumble shook the ground, as if a giant below was digesting the meal, before settling. Moments later, the plane’s power condensed. Lightning crackled, and the ground gave. As if that same giant had slammed his fist into it. Jagged fissures spread out in all directions, making a spiderweb of stone and debris. Steam erupted from where they marred the citadel district, sending geysers of crimson liquid spewing into the air. Where it landed, stone boiled.

When the last of the brood imps finally joined the chant of their brethren, the process picked up speed. More and more cracks took root, expanding outwards and then down. A violent sizzling blossomed in the clearing, and a scent like melted synthetics filled Kairon’s nose.

Next to him, Sythara wasn’t yawning anymore. She was observing purposefully. “Just what did you choose, child?”

Before he could reply, a large spout of fluorescent red exploded into the air. The vibrant substance reached for the sky, a column of acidic fury announcing its birth upon the world.

“The ichor well,” he breathed through a fang-filled grin. “It seems to be quite the choice, doesn’t it?”

“Is it not always with you,” muttered Sythara.

The column came back down, gravity not being defied for long. It landed with an enormous splash, sending the viscous substance throughout the citadel district.

Imps shrieked, Kairon cursed, and Sythara cackled. “I think I like this, child!”

Half a dozen brood imps had fallen, shrieks of pain cutting through the air. Even Kairon’s scales weren’t untouched, several tiny droplets of crimson steadily burning into his forearm.

He made some half-hearted attempts to clear the stuff, still far too intoxicated by the plane’s construction.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a few warriors. Curiously, despite being just as close as the brood imps, they seemed nonplussed. Like the ichor that had splashed on their claws was but an annoyance.

Interesting. Maybe the wrath-aligned imps have an immunity or resistance to the substance?

Not a minute later, the crimson colors in the air were matched by those in the ground. As the hole finished expanding, the churning ichor filled its depths. No longer erupting, it was still far from calm. The pool didn’t just sit. It swirled in giant, concentric circles. An enormous cauldron of blood-red ichor.

Each moment, the waters went faster and faster.

Curiously, Kairon reached out, sensing for any kind of menu. To his delight, one came:

Watching with bated breath, as the pool spun faster, so potency climbed.

By the time it was 50%, the circle was moving faster than an imp could run. By 60%, faster than Kairon.

“Master! This exciting!” chimed a little voice. Glancing to his side, Kairon saw Shiny had joined them.

“It is, isn’t it,” he agreed. Shaking his head, he motioned at the brood imps in the distance. “Is everyone okay?”

Shiny winced. “Three lost arms. Four lost claw. Other issue.” He shrugged. “We be fine.”

With a sound like shattering glass, a white bone-like rim clawed free of the ground. Skeletal fingers encircled the well, fencing it off from the dark stone of the citadel district. Smooth timber too rose behind it, building a kind of pathing that ran the entire circumference of the well.

To his disappointment, the whirlpool of ichor had stopped growing in speed. It didn’t slow, but neither did it move any quicker. He looked at the readout:

Maybe it grows with time? Or perhaps it requires substances, like blood or material? Or maybe this is the limit, based on my domain?

Kairon would monitor it quite closely to find out.

Before he could give any orders, one final change took root. There was a violent clambering, followed by a jumble of wooden panels being spat from the ground. They strung together, creating a tenuous boardwalk that went from one end of the rimmed well to the epicenter—there it stopped, halting midway through the oversized well.

Two posts rose at the edge, before thick spools of reinforced twine looped around the end of the boardwalk. A semi-suspension bridge, if such was possible. One end to rim, the other to ichor.

“Well. It looks like the plane didn’t include guardrails,” noted Kairon in disapproval.

In fact…

“Master!!!” came an irate shriek. From the crowd of brood imps, a trio of little red figures were striding forward purposefully. The workers parted without protest, many averting their gaze or quickly heading off to return to their duties.

“Uh oh,” said Shiny. “Want me handle?”

Not far away, Bean and the other imps had no such inclination to offer assistance. They scampered away without a second glance.

“It’s fine. Return to your duties. Let me handle this one.”

Shrugging, Shiny followed the rest of the brood in exiting the area. Several of which were being carried away, still nursing their injuries.

All in all, Kairon had to admit their desire to leave was quite sensible. No imp wanted to be the one to explain this litigation nightmare to Nod and the Demonic Resources crew.