The clang of steel on stone snapped the great Frost Dragon’s eyes open.
"So you must be the one they call the Mountain King."
The human spoke with a confidence unusual for its kind. Most of the two-legs understood their place in the natural hierarchy. It was not their place to speak to an apex predator, but simply to run and die. This one did not seem to understand that.
Vyalasird, The Mountain King, was arrogant as only a dragon could be, but he was no fool. Clearly, something had the hairless ape convinced they could speak to him. Most likely simple madness, but something perturbed Vyalasird. The human smelled of dragons, of his cousins to the west. Their armor too seemed to be made from the Stygian scales of those cousins. Had the Platinum Tyrant Bahamut sent one of his slayers to put him down? Or maybe his scheming brother had sent a pet to beg Vyalasird to join his doomed empire. He must know who sent this gnat to his home, if only to make them pay for the insolence.
"I have heard my prey scream that name when I appear."
"...Lovely."
"Why have you come to this place– do you simply wish to die?" "I'm here on behalf of the locals you've been terrorizing. They have asked me to kill you."
Vyalasird let out a laugh. A deep, thunderous thing which shook the cavern and broke loose stone from the ceiling.
"How quaint! I've heard of the interlopers who have invaded my hunting grounds– a whole mountain of them appearing overnight. Do you really expect me to believe that you are here out of the goodness of your heart? No. Someone sent you here. I demand you tell me who."
Now it was the human's turn to laugh.
"Honestly, I've been wondering the same thing. Believe it or not though, the reason I stand before you now is indeed out of the goodness of my heart. Well, something like that anyway."
Arrogant little gnat.
"Fine. If you will not tell me then I shall bleed it out of you before I feast. Answer me this though, if you are here to kill me, why have you not struck? You may have stood a chance had you attacked while I slept. Instead you woke me. Why? Is there some information you seek?"
Perhaps it was his brother after all, and this is just an attempt to intimidate Vyalasird into submission. Rather than answer, the human pointed to one of his trophy piles.
"Why have you created such an effigy as this? What possible purpose could putting people's skulls on display serve you?"
Purpose? What a foolish question. What purpose does he need? Do you ask the river for what purpose it seeks the ocean?
"Because they are mine- they are my treasures and I wish them to be displayed. Because I stand at the apex of the world and they stood at the bottom. They were worms! To do with as I see fit. I display their skulls to remind all of my glory and warn arrogant fools like you! If I say their purpose is to sit in my horde, to hold the other glittering treasures I covet, then that is the only purpose they deserve!"
Vyalasird truly cared little for the trophies, but it seemed to upset the human, and getting under their skin may get him the answers he wants. His words had the desired effect. Their eyes narrowed and a rage sparked in their pupils. The subtle light that had been emanating from them this whole time flashed a deep red.
"Perhaps those 'locals' you say sent you could serve the same purpose. After I strip the flesh from their bones I'll string up their remains outside my lair and-"
Vyalasird's jaw snapped shut before he could continue. He tried to open his mouth again but some unseen force held it in place.
"Enough." The human said, a new, darker timber to their voice. "I have learned all I need to. You will die this day– it will not be easy."
That same invisible medium which held his jaw shut now started pulling at his wings. First unfurling them with violent force then twisting them at the joint. Scales, flesh, and bone strained as they were deformed beyond any natural orientation then tore, snapped, and popped in a slow, agonizing march. There was a sudden, horrible ripping sound as skin split and Vyalasird's wings thudded to the ground. The dragon roared in pain. His whole life he had never experienced something this severe, this immutable and agonizing.
"How quaint. The noble Mountain King, wings snapped like a butchered chicken."
Vyalasird tried to move, to open his jaws and expunge this vile human in a wave of frost, but nothing came of it. Instead his legs spasmed and flailed, spraying mounds of gold and other treasures with each ineffectual kick and swipe.
"Earlier you mentioned stringing my allies up outside your lair. I think that would be a fitting end for a beast like you."
There was a yank on Vyalasird's tail, pulling it upwards until the dragon dangled helplessly upside down. He was dragged out of the cavern into the sky surrounding his home. With his wings gone, the once liberating feeling of soaring through the air was replaced by the sickening dread of the plunge beneath him. He didn't have long to consider that fate though, as he was slammed into the side of the mountain with enough force to shatter ribs and send blood flooding into his lungs.
"Ah yes. And we'll need something to keep my trophy in place, won't we?"
Through blurred vision Vyalasird could just barely make out a stalagmite hurtling towards him before it pierced his tail, sending even more pain throughout his broken body. Vyalasird knew it was over before it even began. He had already lost enough blood from the stumps of his wings that he could barely remain conscious. But it would be a long, painful road before death finally freed him from this torment.
Is this what it felt like to be prey? To be toyed with in one's final moments? He looked at the human. Why had they not simply killed him? If it was so easy to break him apart, why make him suffer so? Vyalasird supposed he had no right to judge. He had done much the same in his life.
With his final moments of awareness, he thought he saw the human's expression change. From cold, aloof cruelty to something that resembled... shock? Fear?
Vyalasird couldn't be sure. All that was left was to give himself over to the darkness, and let his mind fade forever.
Holy fucking shit. Why the fuck did I do that.
I've been angry before, really angry even. Mad enough to cuss someone out in public.
But nothing like this. He kept talking down about those people, calling them worms, and something just... exploded. I felt I had to punish him. To make him suffer. To inflict upon him the pain and fear he inflicted on others. It was like something beyond anger, like some outside force had elevated my emotions past anything I'd ever experienced. Anything normal.
Now, though, I don't feel angry.
The Mountain King hung limply from the mountain. Pinned to it by a spike through his tail.
I feel disgusted with myself.
Using Telekinesis I free the dragon and bring him back into the cavern. Wingless and bloody, I can't say he holds any nobility in death, but it's at least better than being bled from the side of a mountain.
"You did it!"
Yara, no longer invisible, runs up and tackles me into a hug.
"Um– yes... I suppose I did."
"That was amazing! I suspected you were strong, but you took him out without a single scratch!"
"Yes, thank you Yara. It was a... good fight."
"Hah! Don't be humble, you took that monster apart like you were butchering a pigeon!"
Egh. She isn't wrong but it's not something I'm all that proud of. Yara turned from me and rushed towards the piles of gold, many now stained with blood.
"Look at all this! We could turn the village into the grandest city in the world with all this wealth!"
She held up a handful of gold and let it spill out from between her fingers.
"What do you intend to do with it all, Master Philo?"
"Oh– um... yes, a grand city..."
The money is the last thing on my mind right now. I was worried about the dragon being a threat to Gentle Shade, but maybe I'm the real threat? If Sophia or Oberon accidentally said the wrong thing would it just set me off? The image of the monastery in flames flashes in my mind, the Inner Disciples butchered before me while I hold the broken and bloody body of Sophia, a look of shock and betrayal etched into her face.
NO! None of that. I will not let that come to pass!
We need to calm down. Think through everything that just happened and try to see if there is a rational solution. While I was talking to the dragon, my emotions were somehow elevated. My anger and frustration at what the dragon did to his victims morphed into some kind of... sadistic retribution. At some point it stopped being about the victims, I had started to enjoy it. Seeing the mighty, arrogant dragon being flung down to earth, writhing like a worm on my hook was... intoxicating.
I shivered. I do not enjoy reflecting on that perverse, violent feeling. But I had felt it, that was undeniable.
Why, though? What had triggered it?
The feeling had started when the dragon called his victims worms, saying their only purpose was to be his treasures. I thought of all those people, how powerless and frightened they must have been, how they must have spent their last moments praying for a rescue that never came...
Oh shit.
When we crossed over, the NPCs all became sapient, with personalities based on the settings I had given them in Shangri-La. Clearly whatever force brought us here was able to affect the mind in some way. I've already been physically changed compared to my old world, so it stands to reason my mind could also have been affected based on things from Shangri-La. I remember the racial description for angels at character creation mentioned something about the 'Wrath of Heaven.'
Fuck me. Is some edgy MMO lore compelling me to torture people?!
"Master Philo?"
"Hm? Oh! Yes, what is it Yara?"
Yara gestures towards the entrance we used to sneak in. Standing just outside beyond the threshold of the main cavern was a group of Kobolds clutching all kinds of makeshift weapons- clubs, scrap iron swords and axes, stone tipped spears. They stood stock still, staring at the broken corpse of the Mountain King. One of the kobolds, taller than the others with blue scales, approached me.
"You- you k-killed the Master?" The kobold spoke through jittering teeth and refused to make eye contact.
Despite the weapons it doesn't seem they intend to hurt me. Honestly they seem more concerned with the dead dragon than me. They all keep staring at it, like at any moment it would get back up and gobble them all. A few of the braver ones even approached the cadaver and began poking it with their weapons.
"Yes. I killed the dragon."
The gaggle of kobolds gasped. Quiet, chittering whispers were traded and wide eyed stares of disbelief and awe were thrown my way.
"Then you are the new master?" the blue one asked.
"Huh?"
"You have slain the old master, now what was his is yours."
Oh jeez. I already have enough people calling me Master as it is, I really don't need anymore. Seems these kobolds were included in the dragon's horde. Poor guys.
"Thank you, um–"
"The old master called me 'Blue Thing.'"
"Okay– well. That's rather demeaning. Is there a name you prefer for yourself?"
The kobold just stared with wide, unblinking eyes.
"Uhhh. I mean, what do you usually call each other?"
"We call each other by task and scale. I am called Shimmer Warrior"
Huh, that's interesting. Rather than their scale’s color, its some other trait that stands out? Or maybe its a personal aesthetic choice, like making sure to shine your scales so they shimmer, and the name is societal recognition of that?
Wait a minute, now is not the time for ethnography! I have a much more pressing issue! I need to get back to Gentle Shade and ask Sophia everything she knows about Angels, and what the hell may be happening to me.
"Well Shimmer its been nice, but we really must be going. Oh! And don't worry about the whole 'Master' thing. I have no desire to own or boss about anyone. You guys are free to do whatever you want- er, well, maybe don't attack or hurt people anymore. I mean, definitely don't attack or hurt people anymore."
I felt Yara tug at my sleeve.
"Master Philo, are you sure letting these things roam free is wise?"
"They are not things Yara. But why do you say that? It seems to me with the dragon gone they'll have no reason to raid human settlements for treasure."
"Perhaps, but what happens if they fall under the influence of another dragon?"
Hmm. I guess that's true. Back in my world, DnD games often had kobolds serving dragons because they saw them as gods... or maybe like how a Magikarp views a Gyarados.
"Shimmer, are there other dragons in these mountains?" The kobold nodded their head.
"To the south, there are many more dragons."
"I see. And if I were to let you all go, you would serve these southern dragons?"
Shimmer's draconic snout wrinkled at the thought. "We'd rather not but..."
They hung their head in shame as they spoke.
"Kobolds are weak. We cannot go to the lowlands because humans won't let us. The mountains are full of predators though, ice giants and rocs, much stronger than kobolds. Without someone strong to protect us, we would be hunted till none remained." What a cruel world this is. The meek must bow to the strong for protection, and the strong have no checks against their power over the meek.
But, if all they need is protection, I can offer that at least. "Well, I'm pretty strong. If you guys need a guardian I can offer that, no need to be a part of my horde or anything." That seemed to shock the kobolds, and another chorus of chittering whispers filled the cavern.
"You would protect us for nothing in return?"
"Of course! Well, I guess I'd need you to promise not to hurt people anymore, but aside from that I don't want any tribute or anything like that."
Shimmer stood still for a moment, before giving a clunky bow. The other Kobolds seemed confused at first but followed the action.
"Thank you for your generosity." Shimmer said. "We will gladly accept your offer of protection, and promise to never cause harm to others except in our own defense."
Perfect! Glad we got all that wrapped up! My only concern is how far Gentle Shade is from this mountain, may be hard to keep an eye on them. That's a problem for later though.
"Great! In that case, I really need to be going. Will you guys be alright staying here for now? Once I have somewhere for you guys to actually stay I'll invite you over."
Shimmer nodded. "This den is well defended. Will be well fed too, now that the old master is gone."
"Perfect. I'll see you soon then!"
I really gotta get moving. I'll book it back home, double speed. I'll use [Telekinesis] to ride on Astral Purity. It's faster than my normal flying speed, but I'm still not sure if I'll be able to balance on it the same as Shangri-La. Ah well, no time like the present. I unsheathe Astral Purity and, while it hovers in the air, hop on it like a skateboard and begin to move.
Maybe I should also ask Psyche to check me for any curses or- "Master Philo!" A voice yells at me.
Looking back I realize, in my haste, I had totally forgotten Yara. Oops! That would have been bad!
"Sorry Yara! One second!"
No trees up here, I'll have to find something else. Looking through the mountain of treasure, I find a large golden tray which should be large enough for Yara to sit on comfortably. It even has handles! Yara, far less enthused about the tray, nonetheless takes a seat, and I pull us both off into the sky.
Sophia strolled through the fields with Gram. The crop was a rough mountain cereal similar to rye.
According to Gram, the people of this valley had been cultivating Mountain Grass for centuries. They used to live a semi-nomadic life. Rotating between various sites throughout the year as the weather changed. During the late spring and summer, when the weather was warmer and the lower areas of the valley prone to flooding, they would move up the mountain sides. Hunting goats, pigeons, and other small mammals.
In the fall they would come down to the valley floor, fishing in the rivers and gathering edible fruits and other plants. It was during this period that the cultivation of Mountain Grass took place. Rather than planting in a specifically designated field, they would find patches of wild growing grasses and cultivate them every year. After harvesting and planting they would leave, and by the time they returned next year the Grass would be ready to harvest.
Then in the winter they would head for the low foothills. If the snow wasn't too extreme they would trade with local sedentary populations, otherwise they would survive off a combination of stored food from the fall and hunting deer and other large mammals able to survive the cold.
That was all before the Mountain King though. Since it arrived, regular migration would only serve to reveal you to the hungry tyrant. Instead the local populations became sedentary by necessity, forming camouflaged villages in the valley floor. Despite the risk of flooding, the valley floor was the best balance you could get in this situation. Isolated from lowland polities seeking to raid or annex them, warm enough in winter to survive with some ingenuity, and has a high enough carrying capacity to keep the population relatively stable.
Problem is, the longer you stay in a single area as a hunter-gather community the more you tend to drop that carrying capacity. Animals learn to stay clear of the area, wild growing edible plants begin to die off, and those that grow back do so in lower and lower numbers as the soil is depleted. The numbers only stabilize again after a period of starvation for the village. It lowers the number of mouths to feed and gives the local flora and fauna breathing room to regrow their own population.
How grimly Malthusian. Sophia thought.
The fields then, as Gram explained, were an attempt to try and remedy that cyclical starvation pattern.
"It won't be able to feed us on its own." He said. "But with proper planning we should be able to make these fields produce a lot more than just the patches of wild grass we were working with before. Should make the winters a lot easier."
It wasn't a bad plan— but it was unlikely to see returns in Gram's lifetime. The Mountain Grass, while planted in the fashion of a sedentary agricultural community (Gram had done his research), was still only a semi-domesticated cereal. It lacked many of the adaptations other crops had brought about via selective breeding over thousands of years.
There were other factors at play as well. While Gram had a basic system for irrigation set up, mainly just a few channels to catch rain and river water, it lacked the necessary components to achieve the results Gram sought.
Despite its destructive potential, flooding can be a good thing for agriculture, under the right conditions. It refreshes the soil, bringing in minerals and nutrients picked up by the river and distributing them into the dirt. Something especially necessary in the cold, rocky soil of the mountains.
If you aren't prepared for it though, or it comes at the wrong time, it'll just sweep all your seeds out and carry them down the river. It's why irrigation technology is such a fundamental part of agriculture, to capture the benefits of flooding while negating their destructive aspects.
All in all, Gram was clever, Sophia had no problem admitting that. He had made significant innovations in a short amount of time, all in the name of helping his friends and family. But it would take far more time and innovation that any one human life can muster to eliminate the cycle of starvation.
"So," Gram began, "what do you think?"
"I'm impressed. The transition between nomadic foraging and sedentary agriculture is turbulent even in the best of conditions, but you have made great strides in only a single generation."
"But it's not enough, is it?"
"No. Not to see results in your lifetime, at least."
Gram sighed. "I thought so. They haven't been giving the harvest I had hoped for since the start. I thought they just needed time to adjust to the soil, but that's just a guess."
The elder gave a sad, mournful chuckle.
"I lost my oldest three children to hunger. I was hoping to leave my grand-kids a world where they didn't have to worry about such things."
"You are a noble man, Gram."
"Hah! You think so? I would hope everyone strives to leave behind a better world than the one they entered."
"Reality is often disappointing."
"Ain't that the truth."
The two continued to inspect the fields.
Sophia was torn. On the one hand, she was confident she had the solution to Gram's problem.
In the Monastery's storage was a collection of various foods and seeds: including the potato. Being a hardy plant capable of growing at high altitudes in otherwise poor soil, the potato was one of the most reliable staple-crops out there. One of the few that contained almost all of the essential nutrients for a healthy diet on its own, and best of all it could be cooked almost immediately after harvesting. No need to grind it into flour or anything.
The question was how much help was ethical for her to offer. The idea of making the village reliant on the services of Gentle Shade Monastery was rather off-putting to Sophia, but on the other hand the idea of letting Tara or anyone else in the village starve to death when she could have done something about it made her stomach turn.
"I believe I may be able to assist with your goal, Gram." "Oh?"
"There is a crop we have in storage, a root which grows well in these conditions and can feed a family right out of the ground." "Sounds like a miracle plant! What's the catch? Will its flowers try to bite my head off or something?"
What an imagination. Sophia thinks.
"No. There is no catch. Simply a gift of the Andes. I will give enough of them to you to start a crop, and teach you the methods of their cultivation."
Gram's eyes went wide. "Lady Sophia... Thank you! I don't know how we could ever pay you back!"
"If you want to pay me back, then fulfill your promise. Leave behind a world where children do not know the meaning of hunger." Gram, tears welling in his eyes, nodded his head.
"I can't do everything for you though." Sophia continued. "I want to make sure you can survive without the Monastery, in the event we should be relocated again. I will give you the knowledge and the seeds- everything after that is up to you."
"I understand, I will not let you down!"
Sophia smiled. For so long she had been cooped up in the Monastery, making potions and crafting items, that she had forgotten the joy of helping others- one of the core values Philo instilled into all of them from the moment of their creation.
Sophia?
Speaking of.
Yes, Teacher?
My apologies, but I need to talk to you, urgently. Can you meet me at my quarters in Megiste Lavra?
Of course Teacher, it is no trouble. Is everything all right? You sound shaken.
Despite the recent revelation concerning the truth of her existence, Sophia still looked up to Philo a great deal. The idea that something could frighten her was... unnerving to say the least.
...It remains to be seen. I believe things are fine for now, but I worry I may be a danger to the Monastery. I am going to summon Psyche to meet us as well, have her check me for curses or similar.
I- I see. Very well then, Teacher, I will be there immediately. Sophia turned to the Elder.
"Gram?"
"Yes?"
"I am very sorry, but some urgent business has come up that I must attend to. Would you mind if we finished this conversation at a later date?"
Gram seemed rather surprised.
"Oh! Of course, that is not a problem. I hope everything is okay!"
"It remains to be seen. I will speak to you later!" With that, Sophia cast a [Gate] spell and stepped through to the courtyard of Megiste Lavra.