Chapter 33.North

The domain ruled by Sekhmet's cities was massive. Cannibal territory was looking more like a thin ring around spawn territory with every domain I encountered. Spawn territory itself was looking small in comparison. The distance between the closest city to cannibal territory and the farthest was almost twice the distance separating the two farthest cannibal cities from each other. Distances so long that leagues became an inadequate measuring method. Cats may be a ring around spawn territory, but a ring twice as thick as the entirety of spawn territory.

Two horizons from the border of shadow where the sun no longer shone the sun had vanished even from the horizon. Far from merely failing to provide illumination, not even a speck on the horizon indicated that it even existed. That was the end of goliath territory and the start of the true domain of the cats. A domain that stretched so far to the north that had it gone south it would have gone north again past the cannibal ring. They didn't know they were north, as without the sun there was nothing to mark which direction was which, but the north was domain of cats with the occasional ursa tribe. The goliaths couldn't survive so far north, it was too cold, but the ursas could. They were forced to learn warming circuits that operated without fire to keep their tents filled with living young, but they could survive. Few other creatures could say the same.

The ursa tribes couldn't keep up with the cold farther north, however. Cats had their pyramids as a basis for casting large circuits that affected city-sized areas. Ursas had no such legacy. As the domain progressed north, however, even the pyramids became inadequate. Prior to my interference, the furthest ones had been incapable of escaping as they were forced to use all of their resources to maintain a livable temperature for those below class three. The one furthest north could only maintain that temperature for their tom floor.

A region I would have thought was too cold for goblins to exist, but that was wrong. They thrived, where everything else could only leave their warmed enclaves for hours at a time. Where they weren't the food of multitudes of species, goblins became the dominant one. The goblins in the north looked like a different breed, the average northern goblin was as wide as it was tall, but they turned out to actually be the same creatures. I hadn't known that goblins could overcharge their nutrient circuits, making them produce the nutrients required to become obese at will, but it was a very niche ability. Outside of the far north, I didn't see why they would develop the ability at all.

The profusion of goblins seemed to be the reason anything could survive in the ridiculous chill. Goblin fat was excessively flammable, which fed the fires that cooked their meat while also providing an inexhaustible supply of fuel for the pyres on the pyramid that lit up the surroundings of the city. Dragons and their dogs had the ability to see heat instead of light while goblins managed to teach themselves the ability to see with sound as banshees did, though they were far less precise, but cats needed light. They could see with far less of it than anything else, but they needed some source of light. Without goblins, cats could never have survived so far north. Not much could, but that wasn't a problem as goblins existed. There were so many goblins that they didn't even need to maintain farms.

The only other creatures that wandered the plains so cold the earth itself became brittle were dragons and their dogs. The dragons were always the same class as the other and there were rarely more than two, but my converted dragons explained that it was because young dragons were delicious. Without the dogs escaping into the dark with all the baby dragons from the adults, dragons could easily have gone extinct.

Another set of species that would have been incapable of surviving the far north without goblins providing more food than they could possibly eat while being incapable of producing a civilization that would put cats or dragons to the test. Dragons would eat their dogs when the goblins weren't plentiful enough, so the werewolves made sure that their dragon was always full. Goblin civilizations were so brutal and short-sighted that no tribe maintained more than a dozen ogres before splitting, often in response to a bloody revolution. The perfect food for a dragon and their dogs or a city of cats.

The spawn may call cannibals monsters for creating and subsequently eating goblins, but without that monstrous act the only livable region would be within reach of the sun. A waste of so much potential, as the lands outside of the sun's influence were exponentially more vast than those inside.

So much so that after a month of marching north from Sekhmet's most northern city I finally encountered a settlement of unfamiliar humanoids. They looked like cannibals from a distance, but that wouldn't be possible. Cannibals below class six would die in the environment. Class four could survive for a few hours before they had to return to something maintaining a livable temperature, but it would take class six to survive without a coat of fur and the insulating runes that came with it. I thought them to be druids, but I could be wrong. An entirely viable species of human so far removed from the spawn that cannibals hadn't even remembered them. Even Baphomet's memories didn't contain druids.

They were so mysterious I decided to have the mostly cat force avoid the settlement entirely as I created a new avatar to interact with this settlement. An avatar built around disguise, making it appear like a normal cannibal at class four. It generated enough mana that maintaining the correct amount of suppression, leaking mana, and fleshy façade was easy. Other druid colonies would be converted by much more forceful means, but I saw this as a dual-purpose exercise for control and exploration. Creating an avatar designed to look normal wouldn't make much sense for interacting with converts nor learning what I already knew about a species, but the first interaction was always extremely enlightening. Every new method of gaining enlightenment was valuable, until I learned how inefficient it was and developed a better one.

My avatar was still a league away from the settlement when scouts noticed and the settlement buzzed with activity. Only one of them approached my avatar, but there were many that hid nearby. Without the light of the sun, hiding was much more viable. Even approaching into the area I'd illuminated was much more viable than sneaking in sunlight. The flickering of the ogre-fat torch I carried left gaps in the illumination, enough for class four individuals to get slightly closer between flickers. Visually, I couldn't keep track of any of them. Vision was far from my best sense, however.

Even the leader, not trying to hide in any way as he was, would have been difficult to spot if he didn't have a torch of his own. "Ho there, stranger. What brings you so far from a hearth? Alone at that?" it was difficult to know the exact features this humanoid bore. His head was covered in a pelt-based helmet tied to the skull of an ogre that covered his head entirely. They needed to do a lot of inventive craftwork to turn the skeleton of an ogre into armor that fit an eight pedes humanoid, but the circuitry I could see in their work was beyond capable of such. There were traces of what could either be faith or ritual circuitry in the construction, but I'd need more than basic opacity to be able to see beyond the circuits used. Being able to taste the creation method of the circuitry while it was still claimed was already more than I expected.

"A test, elder." I was already collecting information from the ten other druid encampments I'd found elsewhere as well as this settlement. I'd been cautious with my use of will in this settlement at the beginning, but there had been no reaction from anyone. With an ear open to every conversation happening in the settlement, it was a fairly quick process to understand the basic structure of their culture. A culture almost as loose as necromancers, the only through line being their worship of the life deity, though that wasn't common to all of the druid settlements. They were the first to admit that their deity was comprised of many gods, however. They didn't worship a name, but life as a category of divine power. A strange choice, as if they understood what made gods what they were and didn't want one. As if they only wanted worship as a practice, not the deity created. "I am to return home with a wife and the skull of a monster worthy of my strength, or not at all." This settlement didn't hold to the tradition, but there were several within that were excited at the prospect of more stories from those that did. A couple more excited than the rest, so much so that they'd be disappointed if I had a similar culture to theirs.

The elder glowed with discontent, a growled mutter of "brutalist" too low for a class four humanoid to hear. It didn't affect his voice after an initial curse, however. "I doubt you'll find a wife here, but you're welcome to share our hearth in return for stories of your exploits. I will mention that we don't take kindly to 'wives' being carried off over a shoulder. To a tent or away from the hearth." From his will, "don't take kindly" would be more accurately termed "hunt down and slaughter anyone trying" than anything else. That he found it necessary proved that this settlement had come in contact with other brutalist tribes, though. Several of them had the opposite reaction.

I grinned, though from the reaction of the elder it didn't look quite as friendly as I'd meant it to be. Facial manipulation was a difficult skill to master. "Of course, elder. Any woman that would let me carry her anywhere wouldn't be worthy of being a wife. Are your naturalist women so weak as to be carried, while breathing, away?" The elder loosed a low growl instead of a reply, but nodded to himself as he turned to return to the settlement.

I was very curious about the cultural exchange that everyone in the settlement assumed their elder was engaging with. What would have been seen as an insulting exchange of ideas between spawn and cannibals that showcased the core ideologies and how they were incompatible were seen as an explanation of ground rules for a tribe and a learning occasion for the tribe to understand another. My replies were expected among druids, but many cannibal civilizations would imprison or kill me for showing such disrespect to a leader, let alone challenging their legal system.

Instead of a battle, the druids settled for posturing. The ten class four individuals that stood up to be seen in my light showed that this settlement wasn't weak, while the expectation was to allow them to experience my tribe's culture while I was there. Curiosity over conflict was a new experience for my interactions with humanoids. It begged the question of why druids avoided cats. Then again, cats weren't atypical in their reaction to foreign species and druids were reacting to others of their own species.

Either way, the core of their amiability was probably due to the extreme danger that surrounded every settlement. All human cities, apart from spawn and their radiant shards, existed on the precipice of destruction. But that was on a scale of millennia, for cannibals and cats. Centuries for goliaths and ursas. The buildings of this settlement were all easily moved, as escape was seen as a much more viable option. Druid settlements survived months, if they lasted that long.

It made defining their territory extremely difficult. The only redeeming factor of their constant moving was that it proved they had means of knowing where others were at a massive range. None of the druids I'd found had been closer than two hundred leagues to a cat city. Some had even started packing up at the sensation of my force approaching.

One of the sneaky druids approached me. "The elder may be willing to let you tell your stories, but you'd best remember which ones to tell. I, Kilketha, will ensure your obedience. And I will enjoy it." She had a lower voice than the elder, a bass growl so low that it almost seemed to echo without needing buildings. "Tell the wrong stories and I may force a goblin skull on your head. Maybe a decrepit old maid will accept a goblin-skull brat." The words, body language, and tone were threatening but her will was playful. Interested. The elder may hate brutalists, but this one clearly didn't.

I grinned again, but she got excited instead of wary. Truly a very different sort of creature to the elder. From what I'd seen, mirroring was a very solid communication method. "And what stories would you like me to tell you in your tent? No fragile children to scar there, are there?" I approached close, drawing in a deep breath, "I thought not. Were you the old maid that you mentioned was looking for a goblin-skull brat?" She reared back and growled, but the playfulness and interest had grown. That some druids actually would have been able to smell if she was a mother was astonishing.

I couldn't actually smell anything, as smell wasn't a sense I'd deemed worthy of my avatar, but I'd confirmed her tent with my will. It was almost alone and separated from the group that was circled around where kids were playing. Separated from almost every other tent, only two set up with a similar sense of isolation. It also would have been a fine assumption merely based on the fact that she was sent to ambush a potential threat while being as young as she was, but being able to taste the traces of her will in the vestiges of intent was such an interesting ability. I'd figured out who each tent belonged to, merely because I could now.

The strongest confirmation of their settlement being druids had been one in the town shifting into their bestial state, even if this was the only settlement I'd encountered of their species. Going from mistakable as a cannibal to more similar to cats in a moment was a trademark of druids. It was their core ability, as recorded by necromancer documents as well as cat interactions. An ability I was very much interested to understand. An ability my comparatively bare form would facilitate while their well-crafted armor would make a liability.

Rather, it would have proven a liability if I didn't know that their armor could accommodate their bestial shift, being designed for exactly that purpose. I wasn't surprised, but their armor was still the first instance of clothing augmented in ways that entirely avoided durability. The auto-fit circuits were accompanied by insulation and self-repair circuits, leaving all defense to the creature under the vestments.

Once again, I'd stumbled onto the correct choice by luck. I'd based my clothing on cannibal standards, though loosened and altered to hide at the sight of the elder. It was entirely coincidental that I'd appeared typical of a brutalist while merely trying to appear human. Some among the tents had extremely keen hearing, having heard the elder's mutter of "brutalist" and spread it among the settlement. Those with equally keen eyes muttered that they should have known, blaming themselves for being slow to add to the rumor mill. Had I acted like a naturalist despite looking brutalistic, I could have raised suspicion.

As we passed the border of the warding set up by the settlement, I dropped my clothing as the rest of the returning druids did. Outside was cold and protection of every sort was welcome. Inside was warm and nobody needed any kind of defense, according to them. I tried to act uncomfortable with the act, as a brutalist should according to the gossips, but it was difficult. Most of it was in expression, as actual hesitancy would have been insulting. The practice of creating material illusions was also appreciated. Making sure they were rejected by the sky and hit the ground with believable impact was a very delicate operation. Doing it while making sure my circuitry was invisible to the very observant druids added to the challenge.

Once freed from their clothing, the druids shifted to their bestial state and back again like a cannibal might roll their shoulders after carrying a load. The elder shifted to a creature reminiscent of ursas, down to the details of his face and the texture of his hair. His size and the lack of a reaction from the ground showed that the similarities were superficial, even if his circuits hadn't proved that beyond the shadow of a doubt. He was only eight pedes tall, but he was class six. Ursas would be bigger. He solved his friction issue how boars did, instead of ursas. More connected to the sky than earth, but similar in principle.

Kilketha shifted into a leathery creature most similar to dragons, but with a short beak and an exoskeleton though it was limited to the back half of her surface area and made of bone instead of chitin. It was an odd aesthetic, but one I liked. Her carapace wrapped around her body in a very organic way, accentuating the features it didn't protect. From the reaction of her tribesmen her leathery flesh wasn't beautiful, but the lines of her body were. The discordance of their reaction may have had a hand in why she was an outcast. Her pinky and ring finger fusing into a bone spike also kept her form combat ready, though it lacked articulation and was probably inconvenient in non-combat situations. Most fascinating were the circuits, however. Even goliaths were less defensively oriented than she was. She could even control the plates of her carapace, to an extent. Overlapping them at the point of contact, if someone thought her joints were a weakness like they were for insects.

I chose to mimic a cat for my bestial transformation. I was the smallest as I was the only one that got thinner than my cannibal form. The largest grew so aggressively it was wider than northern goblins while being all meat. It took features similar to mammoths though the circuits were very different. It had an explosive version of cat mobility, being slow in general but allowing for extremely dangerous charges. Coupled with the strength that exceeded anything its size, it was a very dangerous physique if you didn't know what he was capable of before the battle started. He was the only druid I wasn't sure if they could kill a class four goblin, though. His tusks could be devastating weapons, but he only had two. He was also smaller and weaker than a class four goblin, so he'd need to put all of his hope on a successful charge. He probably made short work of ogres, though.

Being led into the camp, I could see the gossips in their gaggles. My stories were expected to start immediately, and I didn't disappoint. I had a strong understanding of both cats and ogres, so it wasn't hard to paint vivid pictures in the minds of the kids listening. That I didn't need to worry about referencing abilities druids didn't have also helped. Every druid seemed to develop their own set of abilities, an excessively odd set of empty will interactions responsible for the multitude of options. Even two that transformed into similar creatures could have entirely different physiques.

I purposefully included elements that had Kilketha twitching with irritation, but her reaction was only a tangential benefit. I didn't know how the hierarchy worked exactly for this tribe. The elder was one of five, each of which were watching me tell stories with knowing grins and skeptical wills, but without a challenge to their authority I couldn't see how much they really had. They would have quite a bit, though, as the average class for the tribe was four while the elders were all at least class five. Kilketha wasn't the only one that reacted like she didn't like how graphic my imagery was, let alone those that actually didn't like it, but she was the only one teetering on the edge of doing something about it. With every detail she would glare at one of the elders, who pretended not to notice. Her agitation grew with each ignored glance, fortifying her agitation with irritation.

It took seven hours and ten stories, but she'd eventually had enough. She was releasing a constant growl as she stalked towards me, desperately trying to hide her lust with the appearance of wrath. "You are a great braggart. I demand proof of your abilities. Duels aren't for children, so we'll go over there." She pointed at the gap that separated her tent from the other two outcasts. The two others that were trying their best to match her with the appearance of wrath despite a very different actual reaction. The kids were disgruntled at my grin and more at my nod, they'd enjoyed my graphic imagery, but the adults were all excited.

Not a challenge to the elders' authority, then. An expected part of cultural exchange between druid tribes. I hopped to my feet, immediately shifting into the cat form as I rushed to the area indicated. There was a lot of grumbling about brutalists and their lack of decorum, but only two actually believed their grumbles; two of the mothers that had been almost as antsy as Kilketha with my imagery. Two mothers motivated entirely by their protective instincts instead of the various forms of agitation Kilketha and her two compatriots channeled into a similar overall response.

The combat itself was over quickly. She was aggressive, but she wasn't particularly skilled. I had hundreds of different training regimens echoing through my cat forces at the same moment where she'd only learned by experience. The variety in their physiques meant that training was often not effective for everyone beyond the basics. She'd barely jabbed at me with her spike twice before I had my teeth around her throat. She was a sore loser, though, and insisted on multiple matches. None that lasted longer than the first.

The final defeat was the one I'd begun to lose patience with her and done real damage. One of her compatriots shifted into a very soft-looking slimy creature with a lion-esque mane of delicate tentacles. Similar to the aggressive female in shape and features, though entirely lacking a shell and beak, but far from combat oriented. She dropped to her hands and knees and bit one of the wounds, her own body ripping apart as she assumed the wounds taken by her friend. It was what she'd hoped would happen, though. True masochists were rare among my forces, but she couldn't even pretend to hide her arousal at accepting the damage, her excited moans probably being audible to the children on the other side of the settlement. Damage that was healed long before she was satisfied. She turned to look at me with such obvious yearning that even the unfamiliar shape of her head couldn't hide it.

After that definitive loss, Kilketha backed down with a sultry, "I guess I need to rest. A shame I couldn't at least manage to hurt you." She retreated to her tent along with her slimy friend, who also swayed far more than necessary as she followed Kilketha to her tent and made a point to glance back several times to ensure I watched the whole of their retreat. She was taking absolutely no chances that their communication go over my head, probably driven by other failed attempts or an extreme form of desperation.

Kilketha was replaced with the mammoth druid, who in turn was replaced by a smaller bald version. One by one, I beat each of the residents that were class four. I may not have been able to keep up with an actual cat of class four, but it was easy enough to beat the druids. The last one put up the best fight, something I'd been expecting as I'd already identified her as the last outcast.

She was also shaped like a cat, though she had lines in her coat and a more bulky build than mine. She'd been watching my combat in rapture, occasionally twitching as I could almost see her replaying my actions in her head. She fought more like an ursa than a cat, facilitated by a physique that was also extremely similar, but she was as competent as an actual ursa. If only an ursa previous to being exposed to the discipline of my forces. She was the first one that actually threatened my streak of victories, but I still managed to win. There were some indications that she could have won if she really wanted to, but that could also have been my overestimating her abilities and seeing the opportunities one of my ursas could have utilized that were beyond her ability.

With my teeth around her throat, I could feel the reverberation of her purring through my entire body. She didn't say anything or make a show of how she left, but she joined the other two outcasts in the single tent. As the flap closed behind her I couldn't help but chuckle at the plan she'd executed brilliantly. With the effectiveness of that purr, I was sure that she'd been more capable than she let on. She'd lost on purpose, choosing to lose in exactly the way that she did specifically so she could purr with my mouth around her throat. It wasn't effective on me, but it would have driven a cat mad with lust. She really was a remarkable fighter to be capable of so much despite lacking training.

The only ones I didn't fight were the elders, they congratulated me on my victory and ordered a feast be prepared, their skepticism having been banished entirely. They winked at me before announcing the magnificent breakfast everyone should try to match with their dreams, if they dared. I could feel the irritation and rage from the other males, the ones who wanted the three outcasts to stay in town even if they didn't like them, the ones that hates brutalist numbers being bolstered, but the elders were more concerned with the girls being happy. If they needed to be in a brutalist tribe to be happy, that's where they should be. Most of the tribe was hoping for an affair at most, but the elders wanted me to leave with three wives.

I entered the tent to see the three outcasts all in their bestial forms, though their poses were as far from pouncing as they could get. Yet another aspect of their personalities that proved they'd be happier among brutalists than naturalists. The reason their tents were separate. As I was able to see into their wills, I could tell they wanted me to bring them to a brutalist tribe far more than they wanted me as an individual, but I was about to conquer their whole settlement anyway. I wasn't planning to keep them as wives any more than they wanted to be forever leashed to me. They would end up as mine either way, just not my wives.

They decided morning by when the children woke up, as there was no sun. As few adults had slept, or been capable of sleeping despite the noise coming from the outcast tents, their feast had been prepared well in advance of "morning" and turned the smell into an agent that woke the children ahead of their natural cycle. A petty and deliberate action by several of the mothers, including the ones that had disliked my stories.

Their ritual prior to eating was different. A purposefully unrefined method of worship, if I wanted to put an intent behind their method. Everyone shifting to their bestial state and roaring whatever praises for life that they could think of was about as chaotic as prayers got. The only real benefit I could see was the virulence of their faith, as their method of drowning the particulars allowed everyone to have as deep a connection to their divinity as they could handle. The simplicity enforced by the virulence of the custom also reinforced the belief itself.

A connection I followed to build my shrine to their megalith. A megalith beyond joyous at the chance to separate into proper gods. The druids may purposefully or accidentally force multiple gods into a singular entity, but that was a very different question from what the gods wanted. Demeter and Aphrodite showcased the breadth of difference between gods that were pulled into the cohesive mass of faith that was "life". They'd fought constantly within the cohesive mass to keep themselves separate from the others. Hera and Hestia were more willing to be part of the God of Life, but they were still hesitant enough to keep themselves distinct within the mass.

Many had had their own cities at one point, but they'd fallen out of favor or been exterminated by Raginor and been too weak to resist the call of druids that worshipped an ideal over an entity. Many had even been cannibal gods when they "died". Less defined than Baphomet, having been forced to be part of the God of Life for so long, but still good enough to keep their memories intact.

The God of Life was truly a cohesive mass in comparison to the God of Death that the brutalist druids worshipped. None of them had been willing to assimilate into the God of Death. That was a different question from whether they'd fought not to enter the conglomerate, however. Starving was uncomfortable for any creature, and that included faith-based ones. The worship of life and death was beyond good enough to maintain all of the gods combined into both conglomerates. Plenty to keep them all vital. The number of gods also helped filter the chaotic self, making survival as an entity much easier.

Every new druid encampment I converted through the various gods of life and death allowed me to realize just how large the world truly was. The domains were mixed together, naturalists and brutalists both being forced to move all the time and set up new camps. The domain that was controlled by the druids as a species was massive though. So massive that Raginor's domain was looking like a densely populated speck on the face of the massive world, now. Even cat territory was insignificantly small in comparison to the breadth of the druid domain. So small that if the entirety of the circle constituting the cat domain was equal to a single pes the druid domain would be a ring thousands of leagues wide.

As massive as the world turned out to be, it did have an end. The edge of the death druids' domain wasn't because they had a northern neighbor, but because they had a downwards neighbor. The edge of the world was only a hundred leagues long, but the ground curved so quickly that you couldn't see a class eight dragon a stade away. With everything so close, organizing was difficult. Goblins proliferated, but they were the only species that thrived in an environment so uncertain. All while there was the constant fear of falling into the sky, or falling off the bottom for those that crossed to the other side of the world. Perhaps they could have built large-scale defenses, but the druids didn't build those types of defenses and the others didn't want to conquer the side with the sun on it. The dragons didn't cross either, as dragons were used as heaters on the bottom of the world. None could even advance into class six, because all the class five dragons were constantly using their mana to power flames they belched into the sky. The warmth of the air also activated the superstitious nature of the druids, causing them to wonder if the bottom would burn them alive. There was more to conquer on the bottom side of the world, but by the time I'd realized it, it became a non-issue. Class ten changed my perspective on a lot of things.

As I waited for the world to finish breaking, I played with the druids in illusive avatars. I even started keeping the illusion going beyond singular settlements, my first instance being the one that took three wives with him when he left the naturalist settlement. With my advancement and the subsequent changes, worship was overrated and unnecessary.

More than that, worship was detrimental to understanding what they actually were. Their true nature. Adding curiosity and drive to cultivate themselves to the best they could be changed the trajectory of their lives. Not to mention my erasure of their natural incompatibility with other creatures and the infinite nature of resources I could produce. Cannibals that didn't need to eat lived very different lives than ones that did. Every change I implemented was an unnatural change, one that altered the results of every test I'd ever run to figure out how anything worked. Everything in their natural state was different from how it would be as a worshipper of mine.

I could learn so much more by stepping back and allowing everything to grow as it would have without my intervention. I could always organize more controlled experiments, but I already knew what I wanted. Druids were at their core a ritual circuit, but a ritual circuit built empty, so as to attract empty will to define the ritual circuit instead of purposeful construction of a particular ritual circuit. Empty will that wasn't their own but derived from their divine entity. The God of Life and the God of Death had contained the empty will of a myriad of forgotten species, lost to history and extinction. There was no reason inherent to druids that would stop them from getting similar benefits by worshipping any other god, though they'd probably have less varied physiques.

Every class two druid got to choose their form, but only from the physiques that existed in the empty will recognized by their deity. The transformation was their only real unique circuit, and it was fairly easy to understand. They did inspire me to create physiques for the species that didn't have them, and maybe even create new ones of my own, but all of that could happen while humans went about their lives as if I didn't exist.