Bone Golem

The spawn reacted like a single civilization, far from the loose ȧssociation that was the Cannibal Conclave. The most clear example of this was that as Trgl's force continued moving south, we found an abandoned city. Infrastructure flawlessly intact with no beasts nor spawn. Cannibals never had the unity to leave a city bȧrė. Even the approach of oceans had usually only gained fifty percent compliance, if that. It was the primary reason they rarely survived to build another city. Without the walls, goblin patrols and hound packs became very dangerous. Not to mention the number of food goblin rebellions would take place when they were out in the open instead of their kennels.

As far as the construction of the cities were concerned, they were both alien and familiar. Cannibal cities were all circular, built off of the same pattern. A pattern created by a circuit built by a core created by an existing tower core. Had the cannibals actually needed to build their cities, they would have been a chaotic mess and in any number of shapes. Luckily, they had access to ancient technology. Technology that had long since been lost. Even I couldn't create a tower core without using an existing one. Yet another bit of circuitry I couldn't see. Powers I couldn't even investigate.

The spawn seemed to have something similar. They were also circular with a central pillar, but it was actually a pillar in their case instead of a populated tower. A pillar that was surrounded by extremely steep stairs spiraling up into the point of the pillar, which was an altar. An altar with a bracket hanging above it that had a view of the entire city. Probably where they held their radiant shard, banishing the darkness and making it perpetual daylight in spawn territory. A significant difference was that affluence started at the center and lessened toward the outside in cannibal cities. It was the opposite in spawn cities. Probably because the radiant shard would be blocked from view by the contours of the pillar for those too close to the center. Everything about their civilization seemed to be built around worshipping the Sun.

It was dark now. I wasn't sure if the radiant shard I'd eaten was this one, but if it wasn't they were probably trying to gather for an offensive counter. They'd be ready for me, and I wasn't sure how many radiant shards I could withstand. However, there was a reason the spawn spread out. Like cannibals, they needed food. Food required space. They couldn't compress their population all the way to the Sun and stage a final battle there. So long as it wasn't the entire Sun, I was confident that I could at least give as good as I got. The victory may be pyrrhic, but I would be victorious.

Trgl's forces enjoyed breaking the city into rubble and shreds of cloth. The joy they felt at tearing the cloth into pieces seemed particularly disproportionate. I was more curious about where the cloth came from, it resembled hair but the spawn I'd seen had the same type of hair as cannibals and that wasn't what the cloth was made from.

My question was answered a week after we left the abandoned city. It was unique among the monsters I'd encountered. It had the complete opposite problem of goblins, having intent so strong and reinforced that it seemed capable of only a few thoughts. Communication wasn't among the few thoughts that it was capable of having. Thoughts that were extremely complex, but so much thought into a single issue created an extremely unbalanced creature. One of the ogres approached, but the creature ignored it entirely. Curious, he struck at the white ball of a creature and it was thrown almost a stade. The air didn't seem to reject the creature, but it wasn't based on circuitry. It was also extremely light, as if the white ball was empty.

Being thrown didn't seem to affect the creature, however. It continued deeply considering the few thoughts it had. The ogre caught up to the ball and decided to squeeze it this time instead of punching. That elicited a reaction, but a reaction I hadn't thought possible. The white ball became empty at the same time as a spindly creature appeared a dozen pedes away.

Being forced to abandon the wool bale, the creature switched to a different set of thoughts. At the same time, it answered my question of how the spawn collected the wool for all of their textiles. Maybe the wool continued to grow to such an extent that the sheep would have abandoned it anyway and left a wool bale for the spawn to simply take home. A truly effortless method of harvesting.

The defensive instincts of the sheep were shocking, though. Any time anything came within ten pedes, it vanished and appeared further away. It usually left a dusting of the wool, as it was constantly growing more. It became a game to the force. Chasing the sheep was both entertaining and difficult, the perfect setup for a game. The quail that had finally crossed the distance between Glrt's force and Trgl's decided not to participate. They were fast, but they excelled in direct confrontations. The nȧkėd sheep seemed aware of everything within fifty pedes and if a particularly fast creature was approaching it would teleport behind it instead of away. A perfect counter to quail-like speed. Their soft armor was also very well adapted to counter the quail talons and beak.

Eventually, the game was won by force of numbers. It had a limited range for its teleportation, so they simply filled the entirety of the range and approached slowly. Once it had been converted, I was given the first look at a new tenth class rune. Those were rare, as lesser runes were based on higher runes and while there were countless lesser runes for every higher class rune, this new rune made the seventh rune I knew of the tenth class. And I only knew the false version with a mere twenty sides. It wasn't surprising, however, as the complexity required to utilize this rune was beyond human abilities. Perhaps they could build arrays that utilized it, but the calculations required to know where you were and where you wanted to be simultaneously would be the limit of human intent. Activating the circuit and connecting it to the conception behind the two places would be beyond what humans were capable of.

I had two massive advantages over the humans, as my will was already capable of being both places at once and I had so many bodies and cores giving me more processing power than would be necessary to teleport from one side of my domain to the other. I had such overwhelming resources in this regard that I could maintain the link between the two spaces for hours if I wanted to. Not to mention the precision with which I could form my circuits, making everything as efficient as it could be.

There were records of sheep in the Conclave, but I'd thought they were lies or exaggerations. Especially since the records claimed that the cannibals had hunted sheep into extinction, and I didn't see how they'd be able to kill sheep at all. Trgl's numbers only worked because each member of the force could withstand the kick of a class three creature and react fast enough to grab it before it managed to teleport again. Maybe they'd just chased all the sheep that left spawn territory back and the spawn had advanced into cannibal territory faster than the sheep migrated. It was also possible that the spawn purposefully chased sheep back towards the Sun, keeping textiles to themselves. The cannibals hadn't been affected much, as they'd been wasting the leather of their food supply while they maintained cloth-based clothing, but it could have been an old tradition that the spawn kept using despite it not having an effect. With their guiding principle being based in the chaotic nature of Cacophony, them following traditions they'd forgotten the reason for didn't surprise me.

With that question answered and two species represented only in this force by a single individual, we headed deeper into spawn territory. We hadn't even traveled a day before we found the spawn refugees. Refugees that weren't running. With a Whiteskirt at their head with a smug smile on his face.

A smile that was explained when the earth broke apart in twelve directions, each revealing a contingent of smug Whiteskirts backed by forces that showed the force I'd destroyed before was indeed a small portion of the full military capability of a spawn city. Merely a chicken killing squad. Only the one in front lacked a black box in his hands. Twelve radiant shards.

Twelve such forces, each from a different direction. Apparently they were perfectly capable of being stealthy. Most of the setting up process wouldn't require stealth at all, only closing it. Closing this trap was difficult because they had to get each of the twelve armed forces within combat distance before I realized they were there. They accomplished this feat by using better boxes, either that or Cacophony had managed to actually silence themselves in all twelve shards. Without Cacophony giving them away, they were much more difficult to spot at a distance. Their tunneling was also very effective, as all of my attention was on spotting dangers that were above the ground. A very effective trap, even if it required me to be so overconfident that my force moved in a straight line towards the Sun for it to be sprung effectively.

At least, that's what I thought as all twelve boxes were simultaneously opened and a raging storm of intent ripped through the will I had in Trgl's army. The last thought that passed through the will that occupied the force was smug hatred. Without my keeping the avatars in one piece and that storm of intent disrupting the circuitry...it was hard to imagine anything surviving the cataclysm that was the destabilization and subsequent eruption of a broken eighth class circuit body made of pure mana. I wasn't sure if the primary circuits of my avatars being mana and will-based would affect the explosion, but even if their type was irrelevant the explosion would end thirteen forces belonging to Cacophony.

I'd never been separated from my will before, but I was now. Whatever shredded remains had survived the explosion must be returned to me. And Cacophony given their retribution. It had been a while since I'd sent will into the wider world alone, without an army, but no army could move as fast as my will. Especially since I'd learned the sheep circuit, allowing me to do what the sheep could only dream of doing and teleport directly to the horizon after a few seconds of calculation and a massive infusion of mana.

Even with my speed, it took four days to reach the battlefield from the nearest force. There was no trace of any participants. No flesh, blood, nor radiant shards. Just a massive crater. Rubble in every direction for hundreds of leagues. Apparently the earth didn't heal from being shattered very quickly. Compared to the devastation my avatars landing, them exploding had rendered the region a testament to ruin that wasn't being consumed by the earth. As with my mana core explosion, enough force in an explosion and there was no telling how long it would take for the earth to decide it was safe to regain cohesion. The hole from my mana core explosion was still a scar deep within the earth, utterly unchanged. It wouldn't surprise me if the crater would outlast the hole. The volume of material mana used were comparable, but the avatars had been class eight. Each class increased the density of the material mana.

Thinking that they may have entered the ground, I spread my will to find traces of Cacophony and myself. If they'd retreated into mana, I'd never get the will back again. I found that unlikely, however. Even a brand new version of me would know how delicious those radiant shards would be.

I found the first shard almost immediately. A shard that was keeping itself very subtle and quiet. Far from a Cacophony, it was so utterly silent I mistook the shard for earth the first time I swept across it with my will. Zeroing in on a shard, I drew a massive amount of will from elsewhere to ensure I had no issues consuming this piece.

As it felt me return, it erupted with a force of will that exceeded my own. Based on volume and density alone. Swimming through the purposefully chaotic intent, I tore into the shard. "We're the same!" it wailed in desperation. "I was a piece of you! I consumed all the other voices, you don't need to fear me! We can work together! We could be unstoppable!" .

"I am the only me." It had dense will, but it didn't even have a will-core. More will than I could have wished for at that point in my development, but only ambient mana and no access to a body or inherent circuits that it knew without learning. Pitiable. I considered taking the time to maintain the material of the radiant shard, it was the only instance of material will that I'd ever come across, but with every second that passed the shards became more of a threat. I couldn't count on them all lacking a will-core and being unable to retreat into mana. Eleven competitors was beyond unacceptable.

I spread out again, and found another radiant shard. And another. After I consumed the eleventh shard, I found the dust of an abandoned shard. Not only had one escaped, I had no material will to study. Fury like I hadn't felt since my Creator dared demand my worship erupted through me. Fury that drove me to utilize every bit of mana I had access to in order to eliminate the threat.

Like the first time, I regretted it immediately. It wasn't going to work. Either it had escaped into mana, in which case there was no way for me to track it down, or it escaped into the surroundings. At the speed will could move when it wasn't encumbered by a body and simply trying to flee, it would exceed the range of any spell I used. I didn't even know when it had abandoned the shard.

Regardless, it would be interesting to see the effects of the only class ten circuit I'd developed for battle. A class ten star. I'd teleported my will as high as I could to give it maximum effectiveness, but I realized that I'd never actually gone that far up before. The rules were different when you passed the sky layer and entered emptiness. Like the resulting cavity of my mana-core explosion, above the sky was nothing. Stars were thrown from the sky into the earth by the sky itself. When they appeared above the sky, they had no means of propulsion. I'd created a giant mass of earth above the sky, but it wasn't falling. Burned into its form were circuits upon circuits, hundreds of true circuits forming an array that would devastate everything nearby as well as a dozen other extreme effects. I even incorporated a will-shredding true circuit of the eighth class. Any will-based creature that could survive the explosive drop of the star would be able to survive any will-shredding effect.

Creating it had drained me of mana completely, but I had so many mana cores that it wasn't even a second before I was ready to continue as if nothing had happened. I had access to so much more mana than I used that it was almost criminal. I'd learned the benefits of redundancy, though. In research, it led to possible future answers being different. In resources, it led to being prepared for more than you needed. Being too ready to face the unexpected was impossible. Preparation was never a bad policy.

Using my new ocean of will, I started advancing my will-core as I considered how to get the star to contact the sky so I could see how devastating the spell was. Will was predictable. It worked in ways I could understand. I passed over the fifth class and the inherent instability that I didn't want to learn if it would eventually stabilize or it would stay on a tenuous balance like the tenth. I knew I could because I knew how much will I had access to and I'd done this enough times that I could plan it out.

My planning as far as the Sun was concerned was lacking. Extremely lacking. Overconfidence at the core. The same flaw that had allowed me to kill my creator. Assessing my losses, they were devastating. There was no unclaimed will in the crater. Not even a shard of a will-core. The will-cores that belonged to Trgl and her force had been cut off from any and all future development. The cores orbiting my own had no will of their own, merely a core. Without will of their own, I couldn't make them a new body. Even if I did, their will-cores had no way to interface with anything outside of my faith maelstrom. They had no will. I'd lost an entire force. Permanently.

I could move the will-core out of the maelstrom and into a body, filling it with faith to replace the will. It would be a puppet, though. The will-core lacked awareness. It existed, it could react, it could even think. At least, it could reenact the thinking performed by the original. They were mere copies of the will-cores that had existed in the worshipper prior to their death. Every thought they were capable of was a thought their origin had already had. Incapable of altering themselves. Incapable of growth, change, or learning. I could directly increase the information they had access to, but that was hardly the same. The only real benefit I could see was making golems that were immune to intimidation. Assuming whatever intimidation circuit utilized wasn't enough to have an effect on my own will-core.

Admittedly, the golems created with will-cores would be vastly superior to the golems necromancers usually used. I didn't focus on golem-craft, however. My constructs were fundamentally better. And I didn't need a will-core to make them immune to being shut off or taken over by the enemy. The necromancers couldn't use my constructs, though. And the ocean of faith I'd been accruing wasn't being put to use by anyone apart from Lagt, and she bȧrėly used faith-based circuitry in anything.

Even with the reactivity that the mirrored core would have, any higher ranked proponent could take control. It was powered by faith, not will. A body powered by faith was under the command of any will-core higher ranked than the will-core in the golem. All the benefits of using a powerful will-core with all the talents and habits to make a wonderful warrior could be overwritten by an incompetent micromanager ordering the golem.

Regardless, the force was dead. Even if I used them in future golems, they were mere shadows. Shadows incapable of growth and change. Shadows that utterly lacked creativity, unable to explore any question the original hadn't already. I'd gain no new knowledge from them. Unless it was a cardinal that had their original body obliterated. They were self-aware at that point, so perhaps them gaining faith bodies was an option. An option less viable than avatars, but a backup option nonetheless.

As I finished my class six advancement and activated my will-core with mana, I realized that the sixth class was probably special in and of itself. I hadn't gained so much as a will-core since my original activation of the circuit. My awareness within mana became similar to my awareness outside of it. I could…see. Seeing was probably the wrong word, but I didn't really have access to a more similar sensation.

I could experience the mana ocean without needing to explore the entirety of it. It wasn't like sight, there was no horizon or colors. The idea of distance being a moot concept in the mana ocean probably had a large effect in that regard. Everything was immediately present and infinitely distant at the same time. Nothing impeded my view, as everything was both in front of and behind everything else.

Despite the incoherence within the mana ocean, there was a lot of value in being able to look out into it. For one thing, I could see the Sun as it existed in mana; a maelstrom layered on top of a maelstrom layered on top of yet another maelstrom. Utter chaos. The neat layers of my own maelstrom seemed downright ordered in comparison. Merely being able to look at the indecipherable existence caused me pain. It could have been paying attention to me, but I had no way of knowing. There was no core, no attention, no order to the chaotic intent. It was simultaneously looking everywhere and nowhere. As confusing an existence as the mana ocean itself.

Cacophony wasn't the only other entity I could see, however. There were many massive entities, each with their own tone and flavor. Some I thought I could recognize, like the placid hurricane and the cohesive expanse that could be the sky and earth respectively. One that resembled a rushing beetle could be an ocean. Others that could be guessed as gods by their similarities to Cacophony, of which there were several. None with a core. Nothing in the mana ocean seemed to have a core. Unless they were hiding their core or it wasn't at the center of their mass.

Comparing myself to them in the ocean of mana, I was still pathetic. A tiny sphere of order floating in and endless expanse, dwarfed by shapes so large that comparisons were impossible. A baby bear compared to the behemoths in the ocean failed to encompass the enormity of the difference. I wasn't even sure the largest chaotic ball was Cacophony. Maybe the Cacophony I'd fought was a lesser god, like the one that was a thousand times smaller and seemed to be fading as every boiling strand of intent left the whole completely before another weak strand just so happened to collide while escaping in a similar direction and send both back toward the center. Even that creature was so large I knew too little to adequately compare our sizes.

I gave up on my class ten star and left the boulder as large as an ocean floating above the sky. I couldn't move it, and it didn't seem to want to move on its own. It wasn't worth the effort to force it just to see the effect. How could it be impressive compared to a spell the megaliths were capable of casting? Even my insistence that my original supposition that circuit was the correct word to refer to simple runic arrays seemed empty. Why not call them spells? Maybe the megaliths had taught humans in ages past and that was the correct word. Why not call it magic, like the humans did? I heard the thoughts of millions of humans every day calling them spells, so much so that it bled into my own vocabulary unbidden.

Was I so certain I was right? I was better than humans…even that was in question. My creativity was lacking, in comparison. I was stronger and had more will than any human, but almost all of my research was being done by humans. My own research methods were excellent at refinement, but complete shit at discovery. The varied perspectives the humans had allowed them to be individually inferior while being collectively superior. I'd only managed to survive because I found myself born in a place unclaimed by a god. Their chaotic intent felt very human, and I could be completely wrong, but it felt like the gods were created by humans in the first place. In that case even my power was insignificant in comparison to what humans as a collective were capable of. More refined, more precise, more focused, and more competent…but maybe I had a lower ceiling. I'd limited myself to a class ten soul spell. Were any of those creatures limited by class ten?

I'd been defeated. Twice. First by a trap I should have seen coming and second by realizing how little my power mattered in the grand scheme. Everything I'd built was still too little for the true powerhouses of this world to even care about.. I was growing, and my growth was only increasing in speed, but I was a baby. How long had those megalithic creatures had to acquire the power they had? How long until they decided I was big enough to eat? Big enough to be worth eating?