A Base of Operations

It is always fun to write my own past in a new Mortal world. Was I some tragic widow on a path of vengeance against the Demon Lord that claimed her beloved? An outsider that fights her way up the ranks of the human alliance and stands against the Demon Lord as their shield? A young lord that had to protect their territory against the invasion? This time, I was thinking of a play 'boy' with so much money that they decide to save the world while hiding their true power that could change the world.

After seeking out a dozen or so experts and... exchanging life experiences with them, I hacked a background that would tie me back to the Supers and stop it there, needing government clearance currently. I planned on making a more public identity soon, but I would need to take over a few things first.

There was a man in the news with ties to the drug traffic and some minor villains. He had a small multi-million-dollar business in the shipping industry. His company, along with a couple of farms along the southeastern coast, were perfect options on the Karmic scales for restructuring under new management, obviously my own. First, I just needed to have a meeting with the CEO and convince him to entrust control of his company to me while he repented in jail for his crimes.

The city sprawled beneath his apartment, a glittering maze of neon lights and towering steel, its streets pulsing with life even at this late hour. From the floor-to-ceiling window of his private study, Victor Dalvaro watched the movement below, whiskey in hand, but there was no satisfaction in his gaze tonight. His shipping empire, Dalvaro Freight & Trade, had shielded his real business for years, a perfect front for the flow of illegal goods... guns, drugs, anything with a buyer. But now, the walls were closing in. Federal charges were stacking up against him, creeping closer like a noose tightening around his neck.

Inside his private study, the polished mahogany shelves were filled with books and knick-knacks, the vintage globe bar stocked with top-shelf whiskey, the soft golden glow from the chandelier lit his desk, usually pristine, now cluttered with legal documents and burner phones, each carrying bad news. He took a slow sip of whiskey and glanced at his pearl-handled revolver sitting within reach, a reminder of what might be necessary if the walls closed in any further. Victor leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose as a sense of unwillingness and resentment welled up in his chest.

"Your situation seems pretty serious. If that 'friend' of yours really turned on you, the Feds will be able to discover ninety percent of your open accounts and trying to move any credits now will only tip them off on where to keep looking," I said as I removed my cloaking spell, allowing him to see me sitting on the couch by the windows.

Fairly fast for the average human, he grabbed his gun and pointed it at me as he demanded, "Who the hell are you and how the fuck did you get in here?"

I chuckled and teleported his bottle of whiskey and an empty cup to myself with a snap of my fingers. To his credit, he did not hesitate and fired his gun at my forehead, but the bullet crumpled against my skin without leaving as much as a bruise. I ignored the meaningless attempt on my life as I poured myself some of the whiskey and raised it to him mockingly.

"You're with the Agency then," he said with a grim voice.

"'The Agency', huh? Sounds ominous," I mused playfully, unafraid as I scanned his memories of them. "No, I'm not a part of that Villain group that you are mixed up with. I'm new in town, so to speak, and need to setup a proper background for myself. I heard about your situation and decided it would be a good place for me to step into. You can enjoy your prison sentence while I turn your company into a positive force in the world."

"I don't know what Super drug you're high on, but you can fuck off if you think I'm going to hand over my company," he growled.

"Unfortunately, you don't have the strength to resist me," I replied as I implanted a mental command to join me on the couch across from me.

In his face, you could make out that he was trying to resist the action, as I had not restricted it, but the rest of his body calmly walked over and sat down on the couch across from me.

"My point exactly," I smirked at him confidently, and then swallowed the whiskey in one go. "Now then, your first task is to transfer all of your stocks into my name and name me the new CEO. As for your Board of Directors, you don't need to worry about them; I'll handle them similarly to you. After that, start looking for a waterfront house near the city with a large yard that's ready to be moved into. I'll check your progress tomorrow, and I expect results."

As I needed him to be a proper pawn, even if his usage was only temporary, I gathered my mana at my fingertips and started tracing out glowing runes in the air. I crafted a series of Protection spells that would mask my magic, leave a backdoor into his mind for me to manipulate, disguised his memories of me to make him (and anyone reading his mind) believe that we were distant relatives and that I had been brought into the country to manage the company in his stead. I also added a warning and restoration spell that would activate if his life was in danger as I owed him a minor Karmic debt for forcibly taking over his possessions.

When the last rune was formed, the glowing symbols melded into one blob of energy and shot straight into Victor's body. The spell left no mark, but I could sense the subtle connection to his mind. Unfortunately, his mind would be clouded until he could sleep properly so that the spell restructuring his memories could finish safely. I sent him to bed with a mental command and then vanished from his apartment to continue my busy night.

Victor was kind enough to give me the names of the drug cartels that he worked with, so I paid each of them a visit and gathered information about their various farms. Although shutting them all down would give me a sudden Karmic boost, big moves like that were also what exposed most Higher Beings as I had seen countless times. Instead of wiping out the scum and their trade, I just wanted an isolated place that I could erase from the cartel's memories and take over. Obviously, I was not about to start selling drugs, but a large plot of land was essential to my plans moving forward.

Dark clouds churn above the tiny island, their heavy masses flashing with streaks of lightning that momentarily illuminate the landscape below, as I appeared high in the air. From my eagle-eye view, the storm-tossed sea crashed against the island's rocky edges, sending white spray up onto the narrow strip of land that surrounds the dense plantation. The island was small, barely more than a jagged rock with fertile soil in the center, where neat rows of crops stretch in tight, controlled lines. A single dirt road, nearly washed out by the relentless downpour, snaked through the fields, leading from the dock to the heart of the island's operations.

Near the shore, a small wooden dock jutted out into the water, its planks slick and battered by the wind-driven rain. No boats were tied to the dock, and next to the dock, the largest building on the island stood like a silent sentinel—a massive warehouse, its tin roof rattling under the force of the wind. A few smaller buildings, no more than shacks compared to the warehouse, are scattered near the main road, their dark windows empty and lifeless against the night.

Lightning forked again, illuminating the plantation's main house, larger than the other buildings, but just as weather-beaten. Its veranda groaned under the weight of the storm, shadows dancing wildly as the wind pushed against it. Beyond the fields, the jungle on the far edge of the island swayed and bended, the trees appearing as ghostly figures in the flickering light. The storm howled, the island shuddered, and yet everything remained eerily still beneath the violent chaos raging above, waiting for my judgement.

My vision shifted from viewing light to viewing Life Force. Most things faded into the blackness, but subtle, pulsing glows of Life could be seen below. Judging by the strength of the glows, there were two dozen people inside the plantation while the rest of the island was deserted. Most were gathered in the center of the plantation while five were spread out throughout the main building.

I teleported myself to the ground and walked up the stairs of the porch calmly. Despite the raging storm, I knocked politely on the front door and waited several minutes, but no one answered, or was even moving my direction. I tried knocking two more times, each time slightly louder, yet no one seemed to take notice.

"Well then, forgive me for being rude," I chuckled to myself, my vision returning to normal, before I kicked down the front doors.

The entry hall was a grand ruin, its former elegance draped in dust and decay. A once-stately chandelier, now missing half its crystals, swayed gently from the cracked ceiling, casting fractured light over the warped wooden floor. Faded portraits of long-dead figures lined the walls, their gilded frames tarnished, their painted eyes watching with quiet disapproval. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and old cigars, mingling with the dampness that seeped through the warped floorboards.

At the center of it all, beneath the shadow of a sweeping staircase that sagged in the middle, two men hunched over a rickety table, their card game lit by the flickering glow of an oil lamp. The moment my boot crashed against the doors, sending them swinging inward with a thunderous crack, their heads snapped up. Cards fluttered to the floor. One of them cursed under his breath, his hand darting toward something beneath the table while the other reached for the rifle leaning against the wall.

"Hello there," I said cheerfully.

Both men drew their guns and opened fire at me without a single question asked. Rude. It may have been the middle of the night, during a raging hurricane, on a tiny island, but they could have asked who I was first, or at least if I wanted to surrender. What if I was some random castaway? I could be here for an innocent enough reason, but then again, they were not paid to ask questions.

Ignoring the bullets that crumbled against me harmlessly, I walked closer to the pair who were quickly starting to panic. The gunfire had drawn in more people who all popped their heads out into the entry way to see what was happening before they started shooting at me too. I might have chuckled in amusement at how confident they had been, but when I stopped in front of the armed man who shot at me first, he pissed himself, making my lips curl in disgust.

I snapped my fingers as I conjured black flames to burn away every trace of the man and his filth. With my mood soured, I did not bother playing around with the rest of the armed men and killed them all with a thin blast of energy through their skulls. The black flames jumped onto the next man without touching the wood floor, and would consume the other dead without any more input from me.

My vision shifted to Life Force for a moment to scan the plantation, but the only life forces strong enough to be humans were underground. Although I had not read the minds of any of the men that I had killed, it was an easy guess that those below were victims as, when the gunfire started, they all huddled together in a large group. There was only a single door that had a brace across it, so I assumed, correctly, that the stairs down to the basement were behind it. Unfortunately, as soon as the door was open, a revolting stench was released, but thankfully, I did not need to breathe unless I wanted to.

The stench was thick, putrid, and suffocating. It clung to the damp stone walls and soaked into the wooden beams above. Each step down the creaking stairs sent dust swirling through the stagnant air. The basement was barely lit, a single, weak bulb swaying overhead, casting grotesque shadows across the floor. And in that dim, oppressive gloom, I saw them.

A mass of bodies, curled into themselves, huddled against the farthest wall like a pile of discarded souls. Twelve women, four little girls, three young boys, no older than five... Their skin was pale, smeared with grime and dirt, their clothes tattered, some barely more than rags clinging to skeletal frames. Eyes, hollow with exhaustion and terror, flinched at my presence, some too scared to hope, others too broken to care. A few of the children clung to the women, their small, fragile fingers gripping at anything solid, desperate for protection in a world that had denied them even the barest kindness. The floor beneath them was slick with filth; there had been no bathroom, no dignity, only endless darkness and the stink of despair. I had to swallow my fury to make sure that I scared no one down here, but I was silently cursing the quick death that I gave the others.

"I mean you all no harm. Those that have been holding you against your will are gone. You're free," I said softly.

My voice may have been quiet, but all nineteen heard my words, yet... they did not move. Reaching out to their minds, it was easy enough to understand their hesitation. All of the adult women had been slaves for over fifteen years while the children had never even left the island before. Originally, there had been fifty women, but over the years, they died of illness, an accident, or at the hands of one of their guards. These twelve women and seven children were those lucky/unlucky enough to survive a living hell.

"Damn... I was hoping not to summon any of them so soon," I grumbled to myself.

I bit my thumb and pushed so that a bead of silver blood formed. Channeling my mana, chi, and Divinity into the blood drop, I flicked it to the ground where it started to grow rapidly, further frightening the former slaves. Like a balloon, the silver droplet swelled to the size and general shape of a tiger but more canine.

Its appearance became more defined, revealing a shimmering cascade of silver fur that rippled with every subtle movement, thick and plush like fresh snowfall. Despite its sheer size, there was a quiet gentleness in its amber eyes, deep pools of intelligence and calm curiosity. Its powerful limbs and broad shoulders hinted at strength beyond measure, yet the way it moved, slow, deliberate, careful, was strangely soothing rather than menacing.

The wolf's name was Selviana, and it was one of my many avatars. While I could have taken the time to heal their physical and emotional wounds, I had long grown bored of soothing every Mortals' ache, which is why I had first created Selviana. She had a piece of my Soul, along with a fraction of my power, which I had designed to be compassionate and protective, perfect for tending innocent sheep like them.

"This is Selviana, my companion. She can heal any injury you have," I explained. After waiting for a moment, I added, "I'm going to go upstairs and start cooking. You can move around however you want; I just ask that you come eat when I have the food done."

I did not wait for a reply as I knew that I would not get one before I headed upstairs. Selviana would keep an eye on them and wait for a chance to heal them. She could do it from a distance, but the wolf brain preferred 'magic kisses' as she coined it. The last memories that I had of my mother were tied directly to Selviana's personality which was what caused the quirk to develop; not that I was complaining. She was the motherly, compassionate side of me, and perfect for handling the innocents that would inevitably follow me.

Since I had summoned Selviana and already decided that I was claiming the island, I figured that I should summon two more. I had to reopen the cut on my thumb and squeeze out two more drops of blood. Both of the figures were significantly smaller than Selviana, but that did not mean that they were weaker.

Hanoharu, on my left, was a leafy green monkey with three tails, representing his three affinities with Water, Earth, and Nature. He would manage food production and tend the land as well as tend any herbs that had alchemical properties. While cute and loyal, he was incredibly mischievous and loved setting up booby traps throughout his fields, even during the harvest season, to capture the unsuspecting trespasser.

Geobrin, on my right, was a tiny raccoon that was mostly dark blue with light blue accents. Despite his coloring, his specialty was Earth magic, and his skill was only second to my own. He also inherited my creativity, but it got twisted into an obsession to make unique buildings instead of golems. He was great at what he did, but if Hanoharu was not watching close enough, Geobrin's creations would consume his fields.

"Throwing the work on us already, huh?" Hanoharu mocked.

"Do you want to be bald for the next month?" I threatened, conjuring up black flames to cover my hand.

"Please don't! It's more a punishment to me than him!" Geobrin whined.

"You're right," I sighed, extinguishing my hand. "Anyways, Hanoharu, I want you to go out and check the plants on this island. Unless they could be valuable to Sythrissa, destroy them and start tending to the land; we're building this place from the ground up."

"More like playing in the mud," he complained. "What do you expect me to do in a storm like this? Call Auryx out to clear up this storm!"

"Ungrateful brat!" I growled before I kicked him out the doors that I had previously kicked in.

"How can I help?" Geobrin asked, looking up at me excitedly.

"You are not allowed to use this house as inspiration without my permission; there are people here who were hurt by the people who had this house before I got here. Understood?" I questioned with a serious tone.

"Yes," he squeaked.

"Good, then your task is simple. There are several buildings on this island, including this one. Rebuild the dock into something proper for a sailed fishing boat and a hidden, underground bunker for large storage and space for twelve people to stay comfortably for a few weeks. If you finish all of that, take an inventory of all the items on the island and run it by Selviana; she'll let you know if anything must be destroyed or if it belongs to one of the residents, otherwise, put it in the underground storage."

"Right away!" he squeaked excitedly as he dashed out the open doorway.

The avatars were slivers of my Soul that I had shaped over thousands of years, so they had developed their own personalities, but ultimately, they were just extensions of myself. Even if I was an Elder Goddess in all but name, there would eventually be simply too much for me to handle everything personally, so I had created them to manage the more mundane tasks. It was earlier than I would normally call them because I would typically make a few golems to assist me, but with this new world, there were no Soul Crystals to purchase, and I would need to find an appropriate gemstone before I could perform any rituals to make some, so it was simpler to call them now.

With one last look outside at the storm Hanoharu and Geobrin had rushed into, I turned and walked away. I was not sure about the state of the kitchen in this rundown plantation, but none of the assholes guarding the women and children looked as if they had missed any meals. Hopefully, there was something decent and, if there was not, I could simply teleport back to Brightton Bay to order some proper food for those pitiful souls below.