*Day 094, That Night*

  Joram had been feeling remarkably good. The years of stress and PTSD had melted away with Avi’s help, leaving him feeling as though he would float away if a strong breeze passed him by. Then the System notifications had come.

  Cyd had done quite well in getting them to the peak of [World Architect]. That by itself had been fine. It was the capstone abilities that had soured his mood.

  Well, not quite the abilities by themselves. It was the last bit of each ability that had made him frown.

  He hadn’t realized just how… repulsed he would feel when presented with such a thing. “… inherently under your control…” wasn’t something he could just swallow. To him, it was no different from creating slaves. Not just that, it seemed as though the System wanted to set him up as some sort of god, which really turned his stomach.

  Anyone with that kind of power would inevitably fall prey to pride and everything that came with it. One could say that pride was the origin of sin. And he was one of those people who thought that.

  So, what the hell was he going to do with those abilities? They weren’t even Skills, but [Inherent] abilities now. He had absolutely no idea how to disable that last part of each ability he’d gained. If they had been Skills, then he was reasonably sure that he could eventually get something done. But Inherent Abilities were an entirely different creature, as it were.

  So, what to do? The most obvious one was to just not use those abilities. Which, really, was the most sensible. The problem came with [Genesys]. It’s influence seeped into every other aspect of what he could do. Namely, [Summon: All].

  If he used [Summon: All] to make anything he summoned “instantaneous”, it would be affected by [Genesys]. Which, given that he mostly used that to make building materials and such, wasn’t too bad. But when used to make seeds for various crops he wanted to introduce to his agricultural endeavors, they would also be affected.

  Now, at first glance, that didn’t seem to be too much of an issue. But, given his control, he could possibly do terrible harm. If he casually said anything like “it’d be nice if they produced more gluten to help kill any pests eating them”, would he suddenly create crops that introduced an epidemic of gluten intolerance in the population? What if there were budding celiacs amongst the inhabitants of the world? Would he doom them to gastrointestinal deaths?

  So, he’d decided to just use [True Creation] to make things like seeds and such because his Psionic side and the abilities he’d learned from Altaea’s Knowledge Crystal weren’t affected by [Genesys], it seemed. Something that confused him more than a little bit, but was more than welcome.

  ‘If you’re right, and the System is favouring you, then perhaps it left your psionic abilities untouched because it knew you wouldn’t like the built-in control,’ Avi suddenly piped in, making him blink.

  …. He really should have thought of that. But the shock had managed to overwhelm his analytical side by triggering his visceral side’s repulsion of that kind of control.

  But, seriously, what in the hell is the System thinking? It can’t be a coincidence that such control was included in those abilities. What’s its plan, then? Build-up someone to take over while it goes on vacation? He sarcastically wondered as he shook his head.

  Which was a bit hard to do given that he was laying in bed, once more covered in sleeping women. He didn’t want to wake any of them up, after all.

  But upon reflecting more on things, he wondered if it was all as bad as he’d initially thought.

  Wouldn’t something like a wall covered in various defensive ordinances be useful if he could just control it so easily? What about the various satellites in orbit? Getting things into position without needed to use a terminal would be incredibly convenient. But. How far did his control extend?

  Did he have to actually speak out loud to be obeyed? Or would a thought do? It hadn’t, after all, stated “speak out loud” or “speak verbally”. It had just said “speak”. Which, to someone as psionically-minded as he was, also included speaking mentally. Did that mean that he would be connected to everything that he ever created? Just how many connections would he get over the course of this month alone, let alone the rest of his life?

  Now, that was a scary thought.

  Still, he would need to experiment to see just how far things went. But, given his current status as a body pillow, he would need to delegate.

  And he would also need to go through the new list of Classes that had popped-up after the rest of the notifications.

  Joram then idly wondered if there were any Classes that had more than twenty levels to them. And if there were any, would they be less ridiculous than what he’d been getting? Maybe he should just take a Common Class. Something mundane like [Baker], [Builder], [Smith], or even [Weaver]. Nothing world-shattering if someone found out about his current Class. Nice and normal. Yeah, that was the ticket.

  ‘Careful,’ Avi piped-in again. ‘If the System is as interested in you as we think, then it might not allow you to select something so mundane.’

  That thought hit him like a bucket of liquid nitrogen dumped onto his head…. Or maybe an anvil, as cold didn’t bother him anymore? Mentally shrugging off those thoughts, the quickly pulled up his list of available Classes and nearly cursed.

  ‘I hate it when you’re right like that,’ he sent back with a frustrated sigh. ‘I can’t find anything below [Legendary] rarity.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Avi sent back, conveying her feelings of genuine sorrow for him. ‘Well, at least you can distract yourself a bit…’ she then sent, also conveying exactly what those suggested distractions should be, causing him to blush furiously.

  ‘Maybe later…’ he sent back, doing his best to keep [Clear Mind] up and running so that he could worry through the tangle he found himself stuck in.

  If he wanted to take back a measure of control over his life, he would need to do something about the various Class selections available to him. Which meant that he might need to start levelling other Skills, and gaining new ones. Ones that he hoped would open options for him that weren’t quite so… crazy.

  In the meantime, he’d start experimenting with just how much control he had over what he created.

  * * *

  Daphitiax couldn’t help but appreciate just how comfortable her bed was. She was used to the almost board-like beds used in the various cabins on ships, the mattresses so thin that it was almost like they weren’t there.

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  This? She had no idea what the thing was made of, but she knew for sure that it was filled with water. Almost like a giant waterskin, though as clear as good glass. Not only that, but it was warmed in a way that she couldn’t discern.

  Overall, it had been all she could do to not immediately find Joram and demand that he sell her one for her personal use. That would be rude.

  As it was, especially given just how hospitable Joram had been the entire time, she was reasonably sure that he would agree to selling her a bed. It was just that… she didn’t want to impose more than she already was. Even as the [Demon Lord]’s envoy, she knew full-well that Joram’s kindness only extended as far as the kindness shown to him. And given just how… relaxed he was when confronted by an [Admiral], she was sure that he was powerful enough to deal with her and her crew.

  Especially after having watched the construction of the mind-bogglingly colossal tower he was working on.

  Daphitiax stretched out, letting her “legs” reach out as far as they could. It was always nice to stretch her tentacles out, especially on land where it was harder to move about. But with the bed, she could almost forget that she was on land.

  Shaking her head, she wondered just how powerful Joram was. She was certain that he had a Skill to obfuscate his true Class and Levels, for she could feel how impressive his mana pool was. Even then, she had an inkling that he had also somehow managed to hide that too. How else could someone build everything on Midway Isle so quickly? How else could he [Summon] so many maids to tend to her and her crew’s needs?

  And just that evening, she’d felt… something. He’d briefly had an indescribable aura about him, one that had made her want to bow in supplication to him before passing just as quickly as it had come. Not a single person in her memory, besides the [Demon Lord], had ever affected her in such a way. Which had gotten her thinking.

  Was he a hidden scion of a previous [Demon Lord]? If so, what was he planning? Why on Midway Isle? Was it to make a staging area for an invasion? If so, where? To the human continent, or her home?

  Given how powerful [Demon Lord]s were, would she have any possibility of stopping him? Would her [Demon Lord] need to step in? But if any of her speculations were true, why hadn’t the Council stepped in yet? They would surely stop any such military actions in the Neutral Belt between continents.

  The Neutral Belt existed so that neither continent could gain a closer foothold to use as a staging point to invade the other continent. Even when petitioned, the Council had refused to allow anyone to develop the Neutral Belt for any reason. So, why now? Why allow an apparent human to do so?

  Daphitiax’ eyes suddenly widened as a shocking thought occurred to her.

  “He’s an [Elder Dragon],” she whispered out loud, then quickly covered her open mouth as her eyes widened further, threatening to allow her eyeballs to fall out of their sockets as her tentacles curled into tight spirals.

  It all made sense if Joram was a [Polymorph]’d [Elder Dragon]. His magical strength, his insouciant attitude, and his casual displays of the ridiculous.

  What was the Elder Council planning? What were their objectives for Midway Isle? Since time immemorial, the [Elder Dragon]s hadn’t bothered with ruling the “lesser” races, content to play peacekeepers throughout the eons. But what would happen if their attitudes had changed? What could anyone do to stop them if they suddenly chose to take a more active role in the world? Even her [Demon Lord] was no match for their might, as had been shown in ages past when the Elder Council had chosen to stop various [Demon Lord]s’ ambitions.

  So, what to do? How to appease the dragons?

  There were legends surrounding their hunger for precious minerals and gems. Their legendary desire to build hoards. But, after such a long time, was there an [Elder Dragon] amongst them who lacked a hoard to rival the wealth of nations?

  Hmm, that’s just supposition on my part. Maybe their population has grown to the point where resources have become scarce? Are they expanding because of that? She wondered, remembering her [Treasure Sense] practically screaming at her that there was booty to be had on Midway Isle. Were they extracting resources, then?

  Was Midway Isle actually a treasure trove? Were the islands in the Neutral Belt actually rich in precious ores, minerals, and various resources?

  Soon, Daphitiax was lost in thoughts surrounding [Elder Dragon]s and their various imagined plots. But before long, she fell asleep and was soon dreaming of vast treasure hoards, ripe for plundering.

  * * *

  Bob shook his head, seriously impressed with just how creative and expansive Daphi’s imagination was.

  But she was right about one thing: Midway Isle was indeed a treasure trove of precious resources.

  Still, he didn’t need any of it, so he’d just been dumping it all into an underground bunker after having processed it all. An underground bunker that was only accessible via teleportation. More secure that way.

  Silently chuckling to himself, he wondered what she’d think if she ever laid eyes on it. Given her starting profession as a [Pirate], he was sure that she’d- at the very least- start drooling.

  Shrugging those thoughts away, Bob started wondering how he could convince her that he wasn’t an [Elder Dragon] in disguise. No small feat given just how fertile her imagination was. But, in the end, it was likely easier to just act how he normally acted: like your average Joe….

  Well, maybe that had been the problem. People here seemed to be nice because they were either weak, and couldn’t hope to resist someone more powerful. Thus, trying to become as transparent an existence as possible. One that would soon be forgotten, and thus remain safe.

  The other end was power. Being powerful enough to treat anyone how you wanted to treat them, according to one’s mood or needs. A good number of truly powerful beings didn’t bother with inconsequential and weak beings. Like how most power-fantasy characters described the law of the jungle's attitude towards the weak: why bother with ants?

  He was reasonably sure that he was powerful enough to stand near the top of this world’s power pyramid, and could thus treat people how he wanted to treat them, according to his whims. That said, he just wasn’t built like that. But that didn’t mean that other people knew that about him.

  So, seeing one person with the audacity to build a tower and town in the Neutral Belt would certainly raise more than a few questions regarding said person. Like, were they just a face person for the one who’d chosen to build there? Or were they said powerful person? And if they were said powerful person, then just how powerful were they?

  Certainly powerful enough to seemingly be insouciant when visited by the Demon Continent’s envoy. Insanity? Or perhaps that person had the clout to back up their nonchalance. And if so, then they would certainly need to be powerful enough to repel a naval fleet, for that had been the traditional method used when dealing with someone trying to gain a foothold in the Neutral Belt. He’d looked it up. Huzzah for [Summon: All]!

  At any rate, given all that, it was no wonder that Daphi thought he was an Elder Dragon in disguise.

  So, then, what would it hurt to just let her continue with her assumptions? If she ever asked, he would honestly answer that he was certainly not a dragon. But if Erys ever visited the island when Daphi was around, then things might get a bit complicated….

  Bob shrugged again, dismissing those thoughts. It wasn’t likely to become an issue, after all. Then he blinked, then facepalmed as Joram made a decision what would add more to his already heavy workload.

  Now wondering how he’d get things done in a timely manner, he got up and made his way over to the vast swath of space between the Tower and the town. It was much like the rest of the island, rocky, barren, and slightly lumpy due to the lava flows that had created the plains. Still, there was a decent amount of volcanic ash that had managed to accumulate here and there.

  He then considered how to best proceed. If they were going to create a city here, he was sure that agriculture would be needed. So, how to best develop the land for agriculture? He could [Summon] a giant mech. Maybe equip it with some sort of sonic tech that would easily shatter the volcanic rock into fine sand. Mix it with the volcanic ash to make a sort of soil. Though, he’d need to get some vegetable matter in there to really make it into decent soil….

  Maybe he could start an avocado orchard? Throw in some guavas, papayas, bananas, and pineapples? He was pretty sure that coffee plants also loved volcanic soil, so maybe he’d add that, too? Maybe if the soil wasn’t too acidic, he could even grow cherry trees; sakura trees, to be precise.

  Hmm…

  Thus lost in planning the new area, Bob wandered about occasionally using [Summon: All] to bring a massive terraforming mech into being. As he walked, the mechs did their work, creating sand then mixing the volcanic ash into said sand. All the while completely oblivious to the curious gaze that had landed on Midway Isle.

  * * *

  “You’re certain?” Bryana asked as she placed the report on her side table, regarding her best friend who hadn’t had time to do more than throw on an outer robe to cover her nightclothes.

  “I am,” Brittany replied seriously, not quite able to hide her apprehension.

  Bryana vas Muryn couldn’t keep an annoyed tsk from escaping her lips. She’d long known that the gentry had been, to put it mildly, unsatisfied with what had been happening in the queendom these past weeks. The profits from slavery had practically vanished for them, a source of revenue that most couldn’t do without. Well, they could, but then their extravagant spending would need to stop. And if it was one thing the nobles loved to do, it was trying to one-up one another with their extravagance.

  She hadn’t told Joram Smith about the growing dissent amongst her nobles. Especially since he was, quite frankly, the primary source of their dissatisfaction. She wouldn’t put that weight on his impressive shoulders, as it was her queendom, and thus her responsibility to shoulder the burdens of rulership.

  But a part of her did want to bring her new Duke into the fray. Not just because she wanted to spend more time with him, and she could admit that was certainly a factor, but because she knew that he was more than capable of holding his own. Especially after his many successful bandit and slaver hunts.

  But would that make her look weak? It had already been difficult to inherit the throne at such a young age. If it looked as though she needed external aid to hold onto her authority, even though Joram Smith had been inducted into the gentry, she was sure that her political rivals would be more than happy to denounce her as a weak queen. So, how to proceed?

  The rebels had amassed a sizable force to the west, not quite two days’ march from Kirkwall. And, according to her spies, Lord Nord had even given his blessing to the rebels, going so far as to contribute a hundred [Knight]s to the force. A force that now numbered over five thousand, a ridiculous number when one considered the size of Kirkwall.

  Had their greed gotten the better of them? Well, more so than normal. She’d learned from her spies that Joram Smith seemed to have discovered a significant Dungeon and was personally managing it. She would have taken issue with that had it not been in the land she’d gifted him. Even then, it wasn’t a major concern of hers, especially since he seemed to be paying his taxes as he should be.

  But the leaders of that rebellion seemed to think that they were the only ones who knew of the Dungeon’s existence. Which was likely why they’d amassed such a force. If they could take the Dungeon, then its wealth would be theirs. With that wealth, they could then fund a larger rebellion and possibly a coup d’état.

  “Just contact him,” Brittany said, breaking her out of her thoughts. “I’m sure that he’ll be grateful for the information.”

  Bryana nodded her appreciation to her best friend before speaking, giving the orders to inform Duke Smith of the impending dangers and to also start gathering her own forces. If those ungrateful and greedy nobles wanted to rebel against their queen, she would put them down.

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