V7: Chapter 2 (Patreon)

V7: Chapter 2

…

So, what are the results of several years of setting the Chosen One through dozens of events, expeditions, and battles? In-game, experience can be gained through all three and even just administrating a city. The main difference with those three and administrating is that there’s multipliers for exp for events, expeditions, and fights. It’s more efficient to have your Champion encounter weird shit, go on adventures, and fight in battles and not just one of each. Sure, you could do it, but it’s giving up at minimum a twenty percent bonus to EXP growth.

Not sending your fighting Champions on wacky, zany adventures on top of their constant fighting for their lives is sub-optimal.

Therefore, it is bad.

Anyway, power-levelling is still a thing. Sending in a geared-up Champion to massacre ten-thousand standard mortals will still make their levels go brr. However, there’s not that many neutral mobs stupid enough to amass in such numbers to make it efficient. You can pull it off once or twice with AI factions. However, enemy nations will, of course, target and murder your Champion if you have them running around without any supporting elements before they can get fed.

It’s much safer and more reliable to keep them in an army, or with a supporter that can take out other Champions, and just set them loose on auto-explore. They trigger events, they search ruins, and kill things that they encounter for several years. Then, they come back to the Capital once for some equipment upgrades, to attend the massive university you’ve built, and receive some things you forgot to give them… and they never return to the capital again for the rest of the game.

Such is the life of a Champion that’s needed for the late game.

You send them out to get strong, and once they’re strong, you send them out to kill everything until the game is done.

Ilych went out into the world armed with just regular equipment and barely any renown, yet now she’s decked out in a full equipment set, can murder just about everything I send her at, and looks like she’s expanding towards commanding armies, too.

On the surface, it looked everything was going as it should, but after all the changes to different events I’ve encountered… it was better to be safe and see actual results.

And, I was glad to find my fears unfounded as the reports started coming in.

Ilych was doing her job and ripping through the enemy just like I needed to.

…

Of the ten Conqueror Commando teams sent in to wreak havoc, it was no surprise that Ilych’s team was the best.

They had a Champion at their disposal, after all.

However, I don’t mean to degrade the other teams in the slightest. They went into enemy territory in the dead of night, using the first parachutes we’ve ever designed to land in enemy territory. Their natural night vision allowed them to approach small outposts and enemy bases and wreak havoc. You’d think hulking masses of muscle would be easy to spot in the dark, but they were also provided camouflage and stealth training. Every single one of them had to evade pursuit from aerial scouts, trained hounds, and light cavalry for three whole days or manage to exfiltrate from the training area they were set in without being detected or leaving behind any evidence.

Each training area shifted between groups, ranging from plains, to mountain valleys, forests, and even dessert.

The Conqueror Commando teams didn’t disappoint in the slightest.

They killed patrols silently, clambered over wooden palisades surrounding outpost with ease, and threw rocks to kill sentries. They can throw a five-pound rock like a fastball with deadly accuracy, making it easy for them to kill in absolute silence. When inside the enemy base, they either killed everyone inside with melee weapons or set charges to blow inside with our first iteration of remote detonating bombs, which still needed cords to work, but instead of a plunger box used a spark of electricity made by magic that traveled into the explosive charge.

Their larger guns came and real skills came into play when facing the Death Lord’s strongholds, which were small fortresses made in the ruins of Academy towns. The Academy had a penchant for building strong, sturdy structures and they used the ruins to build rudimentary fortresses with stone walls and protected it with their mages against magical attack. They cleared out the surroundings, set up fires around it through the night for their sentries, and were going to use them as strongpoints against their enemies.

Each commando came armed with an anti-material rifle with bullets designed to explode and scatter shrapnel over a wide area and fifty rounds of ammunition each. Five rounds rapid from ten commandos might not seem like much, but each round had the same lethal kill radius as a hand grenade. Ten guns shelling the same area with great accuracy, each section chosen ahead of time, and every mage found and targeted first… well, the results spoke for themselves.

Most of the people in those fortresses died to withering fire streaming in from the darkness, ripped apart by shrapnel or blown up. Then, whatever survivors arrived would find themselves set upon by Conquerors armed with explosives and melee weapons, while their whole base ran around screaming and in panic and with no one knowing what to do. Before they could mount a defense, before they could put their advantageous position and numbers to use, they were cut apart or could do nothing as explosives were set up and blow up from a safe distance.

From their reports, and aerial reconnaissance’s reports, wherever they went, the defenses broke down.

As they should.

Ilych’s results, meanwhile, were above expectations.

“We have a breakthrough, Erlan.” I handed the Forger general the report. We were traveling just a few miles away from the front, away from line of sight of any enemy mages, in the command group. The Forgers implemented a similar command system to mine. High-ranking officers near the front to command the strategic effort, while regular officers were given objectives to achieve. Actually, everyone implemented something along those lines, probably taking it for themselves after seeing the success of my campaigns. “Ilych’s managed to bound forward again.”

“The Sword of Wisdom lives up to her name.” Erlan rode a golem/rock construct cross-legged. His legs weren’t suitable for donkeys or mules, let alone horses. I didn’t like riding on horseback, but it was better than walking, and being high up in the hair so close to the front was just asking for trouble. So, a horse was necessary to keep up with the advance. “We’ll be able to travel until nightfall, then.”

“Right. We’re ahead of schedule.” Ilych was a force of nature that swept through the enemy. Thanks to getting the time needed to mature and to improve, and grind out levels, she was probably the highest level Champion on the board. She ran into enemy fortresses and devastated them, patrols practically disappeared in her presence, and everything short of another Champion was basically a speed bump at best. These reports weren’t just from her, but from the commandos basically following her around, and reports from aerial reconnaissance. I really needed my guys to figure out photography, or at least some sort of spell that did something similar. I didn’t exactly have time to go to a devastated fortress and go ‘yep, they’re dead.’ “That means we probably won’t have the reinforcements your people have promised.”

Erlan nodded at my statement.

“It is unlikely that they would’ve arrived on time. You know that.” Erlan had a keen eye and I dropped enough hints. The people sent forward by the Forgers were well-armed and well-armored, but they were the undesirables of their people. The lower caste, so to speak, that died for their people, cleaned up the messes, and generally did all the unclean jobs. He knew that I knew that someway and somehow. He’ll never figure out it’s from unit descriptions from the wiki. “Even with your personage present, they would not have come swiftly.”

Because the rest of the people on the planet were even considered lower than the lower caste of the Forgers.

“And I’m sure you know what I aim to do. I need people amongst the Forgers. You and I both know your people and mine aren’t going to lock arms and form an alliance against the threats to come.” It was inherent in their societal and cultural structure. They were acting exactly like they were in the game. They subjugated other races and put them in work camps, while keeping themselves in their capital city. These guys built wonders more quickly than anyone else and advanced quickly through the tech tree, but their population growth, culture, and diplomacy are all garbage. They understood trade, but that’s the extent of it. “We’ll win this coming battle not because of your people, but because of mine.”

“And, your people are a mix of all mortal races.” Erlan looked pointedly at my troops. They all wore similar uniforms. The best we could do en-masse right now without using up space in fabricators were vaguely civil-war era clothes. Dark blue and dull silver, just to make that much harder for the enemy to find where we are. It was just a large coat that could be fitted beneath armor, that kept people safe from the elements, over some standard trousers along with standardized kit. Rations, backpack, knife, and that sort of thing. Everything else was dependent on role. Anyway, Erlan saw the standardization as me treating everyone equally. I wasn’t about to disabuse him of the notion, even if it was all just to get clothes on my soldiers for a decent price. “You mean to say that my soldiers and I will be treated fairly amongst your people.”

“That’s exactly what I mean. That’s exactly my goal. There’s been enough bloodshed over things like beliefs and how we look to one another.” This time, I was pulling things out of history books. I haven’t personally interacted with the racism aspect in this world, besides going out of my way to deal with the Children of the Elm. These societies and prejudices and beliefs were a byproduct of hatred born of violence and war for who knows how long. I mean, the Conquerors were all enslaved just a few centuries ago. The Merchants still have slavery, even if they’re calling it serfdom or indentured servitude now. Hell, the Wardens were probably adamant about sending everyone to Heaven because it’ll get rid any division. “I’m making a world where everyone is judged by the merits of their actions, not by the shape or color of their bodies.”

Erlan stared at me for a while, before speaking.

“Is that why you treated the Merchants as you did, then?”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Yes. What I offer is a contract. Treat others right, or at least have the intention to do so, and I’ll do the same. I don’t act out of virtue or idealism. It is a rule to be enforced in the society that I want.” As nice as I was making the words out to be, I was mostly stealing from tolerance vs intolerance arguments from back home. Toleration is a contract. You mind yourself, and I mind myself. If you don’t, then you don’t get to tell me to be nice and decent. The Merchants literally went out of their way to use a continent-wide famine to get rich. They can get fucked. “The Merchants are exploitative parasites who see only capital and not people. The Forgers stand above them, even if they see others as lesser, they do not harm.”

“That is true.” Erlan bobbed his head up and down and stroked his beard. “King of Wisdom, do you believe my people are incapable of change?”

“Your people are capable of change, of that I am sure, but not in our current times and not with what lies ahead. We will all be brought to the brink of madness, General. We will be cornered, we will be tested, and we will be found wanting. All we will be able to do in the future is mitigate loss, while finding a means to deliver a decisive blow upon the enemy.” The various victories of each Faction were built off the fact that none of us could take on the rest of the planet, unless we did something drastic with the control we’d get over the Citadels. In the later stages of the tech trees, we’re all going to get desperate, more willing to unleash terrible things, until finally we pull the trigger. We can change. Everyone can change. But change takes time, resources, effort, and peace. All of which will be in short supply or completely unavailable in the future. “There will be no time to change your people or their ways. Those in charge now, will cast the decisions your people will uphold in the coming decades.”

That silenced Erlan and he crossed his arms as he considered my words and stared ahead.

In front of us were the rest of his caste. Fodder covered in armor and armed well enough to not shame their nation. One and all, they were deemed unfit for reproduction. In future societal picks, these people are sterilized chemically, rid of various senses that make their duties unpleasant, and drugged up. They become nothing more than golems of flesh covered in black armor that carry around heavy weapons and die while killing hundreds of enemies in turn… and the guards of the holds that contain the workers of other races that the Forgers keep out of pity. If this Erlan continues to champion his people, no trace of the general will remain in the future. He’ll be chemically castrated, have his sense of taste and olfactory senses removed, and become nothing more than a chemically-enhanced soldier commanded by his better.

As the silence continued, as he gave no answer, I hoped that I’d get him on my side and that he’d work for me against his people.

Or, at the very least, quit his society and come to mine along with all the others he could convince.

Because, from what I’m seeing of the Forgers, I couldn’t tolerate them continuing at their current pace for the next couple of years.

They needed to go, before they set this world on fire.