Black Magus

Amun.

21st of Trescia, 1492.

Vrurian Empire, Nytholon Territory. Cuttleship, Mach 1.9 at 10 km altitude.

En route to Chor.

08:15.

——

[The Path of Zefroth: Step 4, The Minion. Task: Complete]

[Step 4 Reward: Mutation - [Void Devil's Tap] - Like a tap in a barrel of ale, this mutation enables your warlocks to siphon Cursed Mana directly from your Cursed Well to fuel their eldritch power.]

[Step 4 Reward: Mutation: [Void Devil's Sense] - With your first warlock, the senses of the Void Devil have awoken, enabling you to sense what your warlocks do, regardless of distance or circumstance.]

[The Path of Zefroth. Step 5: The Horsemen.]

[To continue down the Path of Zefroth, you must elevate four of your Undying Fiends in their station by feeding them a divine fruit born from your divine tree.]

***

I was quickly realizing the downside to being a God wasn't the countless abilities. At least there was some solace gained from that, considering my sorcery and cleric paths often yielded the same results; inversely so. The Cursed Well was the Antitheses of the Divine Well. As were the perks meant to distribute power to my followers, the mutations or transformations, and the sensory-enhancing abilities. If anything, they allowed me to give power to any of my followers regardless of their moral alignment or creeds. Which, in the end, wasn't so bad.

No, the transformations and evolutions made it bad, for the most part. By the end of those two paths, I'd be hardly recognizable. Not to say I would look bad. To my eyes at least. On the contrary, what truly made everything from the abilities to the physical changes bad was the need to explain and describe everything a dozen times, every time I went somewhere new. Lengthy conversations. Visions that gave all the answers. Puzzles that guided them to the answer. No matter what I used, they always returned with questions.

I liked Etan. But holy shit. I had to duck into my pit with the Owl just for some peace and quiet. Now that the Owl was nearly done fabricating some wicked drums, crafting a talisman, and attempting to compose a few songs for my next undying fiend, however, I found myself eager to return to the Plane and check up on the rest of the Troupe and found myself exploring the ship with my senses.

It went without saying, but they took to the Cuttleship like flies on shit, taking their wise rocks to claim their domains in the vast complex within hours of stepping foot inside and coming to terms with the scope of their new homes. But only I could truly appreciate the design.

For now, at least.

From the outside, when it wasn't camouflaged to blend in with the sky, it was seen as a colossal cuttlefish flying retrograde at supersonic speeds, propelled by a massive jet that left its arms dangling helplessly behind it. They would measure it 2.9 kilometers long, 740 meters wide, and 250 meters high. The interior dimensions, however, were 3 orders of magnitude higher. 2,900 kilometers by 740 kilometers wide and 250 kilometers high. They knew it as a spacious, egg-shaped dome with organically shaped structures hovering throughout and many smaller, man-made structures floating between. I knew it to be a cavern carved out of petrified muscle. I knew the transportation network, utility and material conduits, and oblong buildings to be petrified and hollowed out veins, nerves, and organs reconstructed with both natural and my divine materials to create veritable industrial centers and arcologies.

In their eyes, they were countries ripe for the taking, and they claimed their domains with the utmost haste.

Of course, having more knowledge than all the others combined, Iris beat everyone in the race. Her realm was the toroidal organ surrounding the esophagus: the brain. Composed of 40 lobes, she turned each sub-unit of the brain into a separate sub-domain. Or, at least she planned to. For now, she only had four. While the second, third, and fourth were her quarters, lab, and training room respectively, the first was a construct dedicated to analyzing the materials 'consumed' by the Cuttleship. As every ounce of material drawn in would pass through the brain as it fell down the esophagus, she designed and implemented a means to scan, sort, and pre-process materials before they arrived at the stomach, where the proper industrial centers were.

Following Iris, Freki dragged his mob of 50-something werewolves to the digestive glands sitting adjacent to the stomach the moment he understood the layout. The district consisted of two oblong structures. Each was the size of a small country and had been spatially distorted to the scale of a small moon to make the most of his chosen industry. They were then connected via multiple bridges that looped over and under the massive esophagus-turned-conveyor belt.

Much to my amazement, he turned one of the organs into an impressive amalgamation of a barbarian camp and a megacorp tower installed in the mountains. His 10 highest-ranking subordinates, dubbed the Harvest Wardens, scattered themselves around the self-contained world to form tribes on each faux continent, constructing concealed arcologies that doubled as mega-dens and a headquarters for their branch of agriculture. Yet, the surrounding lands remained as silvery forests. It was the other module that became continents of crops and roaming livestock.

Similarly, Blude dragged her ever-growing mob into the liver after requesting we intake more water to form a sea small sea or a great lake inside the organ. In the end, minimal land was to be found. Only a single large island and endless shores. She wasted no time bringing her dreams to fruition, ordering Sam and Redd around with a fervor I'd never seen in her before. It was seen in Sam and Redd as well, noted by the intensity with which they ordered around their girls and thousands of undead to construct cafeterias, offices, lounges, kitchens, plants, warehouses, and more beneath the ever-calm shores of her domain.

Geri was much less enthusiastic. Choosing instead to meander around the ship until she came across the ink sack, wherein she found Kit and Hatchi, the Octo or Omni-Wagon docked peacefully in their 'Nests.' A bit more wandering brought her past the armory, then the deployment hatches, and finally, the hangar, where holographic blueprints of what could be stored inside caused her mind to stir in excitement.

I settled in the left eye shortly after Geri formed a garage within the ink sack for the vehicles she dreamed of making. Some time later, we departed from Shavew and Etan came into my newly constructed domain with a mountain of questions. I was forced to dilate the time just so the transit wouldn't be filled with a Q&A session, and I could tell he still had more when he went to the right eye to form his monastery. Not that I could blame him. Every aspect of his life changed in an instant. Not only that, but his future station demanded he learn things we both were certain never existed in these realms before, on top of being tasked with forming an industry.

All things considered, he was taking it surprisingly well. Although he still struggled with finding his chosen path now that he was free. Something I pondered long about and came to a solution during my stint in the Under just now.

In the dilated hours since then, he'd created a domain of simplistic elegance out of the Cuttleship's right eye. The entrance gave the impression of a library born from Darkworld nature. A massive mushroom was spread throughout the space in an octagonal pattern, with many smaller mushrooms growing from it to form shelves, benches, lighting, and mycelium mats that doubled as training areas while simultaneously dividing the space in place of walls or stairs. Rather than books, however, the shelves were filled with crystals, motes of violet light, and glowing tablets containing notes, lessons, and memoirs mostly composed and entirely realized by his monastic abilities.

I found him in the largest concentration of such tomes. A semi-circle of furniture grown around a dais at the base of the floor-to-ceiling eye-window, currently displaying the snow-dusted plains of Vruria lazily drifting by. The dais held no thrones, mats, or training implements, only a large crystal ball mounted into a podium that projected a dozen simultaneous feeds.

<<"I find it odd that your companions leave with more subordinates than you.">> His voice rang out monotonously, yet accusatory all the same. <<"I do not want to be the one to inform Abbot Eiriol of your lies.">>

I raised my hands in mock defeat. <<"I spoke only the truth. Trust me when I say our newest member is on the path to rendezvous with us. They all will be.">>

<<"Trust is not something our kind is known for.">> He countered with a laughing snort, making me snort in turn. It seemed I was rubbing off on him.

<<"Faith is, however.">> I smirked. <<"So, have faith.">>

He snorted again. <<"Faith is not something we drow males can make use of.">>

<<"For the Demon Spider, perhaps.">> I laughed, playfully tapping my chin while I gazed up in faux thought. <<"But… what about the Elven Devil?>> I lowered my eyes, showing my best playfully ignorant face.

No snort came this time, however. His crimson eyes only fell to the crystal ball with a wave of his hand and the many projections flickered between various channels within the Legions.

<<"It is others who pray to you, yes?">> He gestured to a goblin in a forested land of darkness, gleefully enduring a thousand cuts. Then, his violet finger moved to a young man standing proudly beside a blade-horn stag touched by the moonlight: a Silver-horn Stag.

<<"Not all of them.">> I shook my head, changing the feed to a dwarf-filled cavern of magma and adamantine. <<"The dwarves of my Legions pray and sing songs to their Gods still. I am even told the dwarven deities, Myrthilda, Amphroduhn, and Rangorakh respect my engineering domain enough to overlook me being a devilish drow.">> I paused, displaying Roheisa, Winston, and Zarzok before I showed Elurial beckoning to an owl in a tree. <<"Others pray not at all. Some find other ways to worship me but don't pray. Others still are zealots.">>

<<"I am surprised by the… breadth of your Legions. Let alone the diversity.>> He said, pointing out Hogaz braving the rough seas by having his ships dive beneath them. Then Curious Twig as she roamed the woods with Tao. Followed by Duke leading a wing of his subordinates over the mountains.

<<"Not everyone is a fighter.">> I told him. <<"Not everyone wants to be, nor does everyone need to be. Some are needed to craft and invent things to give the infantry their edge. Others, to help people who would one day become Legionaries or Eomen; or in the case of the druids, to help nature. Some are clerics to me. Others are warlocks to different Gods; Tiamat and Sutark, to name the most prominent. All of them are free to do as they please. So long as they help me in Maru, I'll free them from the bonds of death and share my wealth, knowledge, and power with them in earnest, for that is the least I can do in exchange for placing such burdens upon their shoulders.

<<"That aside, it makes things more efficient.">> I pointed out after a few moments of contemplative silence. <<"The Legio Noctis is a volunteer-only force. That alone boosts morale, as everyone here wants to be here. On top of that, their enthusiasm grows when they are the ones to decide what path they take in this organization. My part of the deal is to show them the way. The rest is up to them, for we are a meritocracy.">>

<<"Show them the way.">> Etan sarcastically huffed. <<"And pay them more gold and power than any mortal should have.">>

<<"A means to an end.">> I nodded, making him recoil in place. If subtly. <<"There are things only the living can do, Etan. Thus it would do no good if my Legionaries got killed the moment they went out into the unknown. So, I make them experts in their chosen fields and then entrust them to complete their tasks without supervision. I give them the tools they need to thrive without my assistance. Anywhere. That includes boons of forbidden knowledge, immense wealth, and extreme power, yes, but also the wisdom of sages this reality has never seen, and guidance from a divine being.

"Most of all, it means showing them compassion."

<<"Yes!">> I affirmed his full-on recoil. <<"Something our mother tongue has not a word for. So I will give you a quote by an ancient sage from my past life, taken from his renowned tome, 'The Art of War;' one of many tomes I will pass on to you. It reads: 'Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look upon them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you, even unto death.'

<<"Now, for better or worse, I do not demean my Legionaries and Eomen citizens by looking down on them as my children, favored sons and daughters or not; nor do I see them as soldiers, Etan. I look up to my precious Legionaries as extensions of myself, created and maintained by their wills and mine. They are my divine explorers, with whom I can vicariously explore the realms. The most revered proxies of my creation. Gods and Demigods who will usher a new era of prowess and prosperity to the Mortal Plane, heralded by darkness and death.

<<"And so, therein leads to the most prominent question.">> I smiled, settling into place across the crystal from him. <<"What path do you wish to take, and what change do you wish to bring to the Mortal Plane?"

<<"What, Etan Za'Darmondiel, is your divine domain?">>