Conditor Imperatoris Elijah.

8 Septara, 1492.

0630.

***

As was stated, we had no reason to remain at the Bodhi Tree. Not when we could watch the proceeds from afar. Not when we cared little for their current skills, only their character; and we could learn that at any time. Learning about the many blessings granted to us by our ArcaTech Template was far more important. And so, we left for Shujen without delay, taking our time on the flight back. If only to pay respects to the Exalted Gloom at the prelude of dawn.

Though it had only been a few days for the mortals of the plane, our return to Shujen was years in the making. And not just my Legionaries. We all spent a year in the Darkroom, even more outside, honing the excess members of our former headquarters corps into our legendary units while being blessed with the flesh crafted fauna, genetically altered flora, and technology that saw many changes to the country our God-Emperor had conquered; now passed onto us.

Zed Legion's death world of Draydon was placed in orbit of Mani along with our worlds, and so the necrotic holy snow befalling the kingdom had ceased. Now, our Matron's Gloom was spread across the country without restraint, the smoke filtering out the land's color but not the color of energy; not fire, blood, and all things arcane, leaving the rest monochrome, like the deepest darkness below. That too would change, however.

With the glistening water of Crater Lake spread beneath us, we slowed our pace to let our beasts talk as we were over the net.

{"So this is our land."} Art mused. {"I wonder what it'll become? A vampiric empire?"}

{"Of course not!"} Kele chided. {"The Exalted Gloom's empire."}

"You are both correct." I said, glancing over the orders sent down from on high. "The surface will be ruled by vampires, and the nations will be devoted to both the Exalted Gloom in the Darkworld and Amun above. Only from the shadows. We will live as our culture- our nature dictates. Unseen, isolated, and in solitude, but ever-reaching in our pursuits."

That was true for every Legion but doubly so for us, for Shujen's surface was claimed by Amun during his walk, its cities sundered and reconstructed by the dead who defended them in life. Ruled by the holy death jarl, Zaraxus, Shujen's surface dwellers were given a new cultural foundation, built upon by the fall of Zimysta and our Sovereign's claim over its Darkworld. Having moved into the so-called arcologies of Amun's design, the citizens were sheltered from the elements, even on their city streets. Extensive greenhouses had been built in, around, and beneath them, close to tunnel networks and elevated roads linking each settlement together. Taxes had been abolished for all, for the dead had no use for gold, thus a portion of the coin the undead received from the citizens was returned to them via a basic income, leaving the rest to be split between the treasury and international trading.

Peasants got a taste of a royal's life, all while growing at ease around the living dead. Then the Darkheart began beating, leaking our sovereign's essence to the surface just as the holy draugr bequeathed the lands to my Noctis Sage, 'the Glutton,' King Darden Surela. Now, many minds were looking at the eldritch energy with a cultish fervor, and yet many were not. Thus, gloom, counter-intuitively, would not do for the surface. There would be a time in the future when gloom was to persist across the surface, however, and so I couldn't help but imagine it as we entered its embrace. I could feel the draconic shadow arcana pouring from her lair like a geyser spewing dark mist, invoking the richest warmth in the universe to embrace my spirit. Its beating thrum banged against my ears as we passed city after city, arcology after arcology, and witnessed the range of colors found within; its rhythm akin to a ritualistic chant that called to us ever louder.

Heeding the call, we merged with the thin streams of light pouring down the great chasm and raced, dipping and weaving around each other to coat ourselves in a gilded veil before we mixed with the darkness from deeper below, our bodies throeing while our spirits drank the rich night and churned through the Darkheart.

Appearing the same as the motes of twilight, we drifted into the gates of the sovereign's prime lair, gazing in wonder at the voluminous ovoid room being cleaned and polished by the kobolds of night-black scales and shadow-wreathed undead. A round dais of polished black stone set before a dark pit dominated the chamber, it and its gilded throne detailed with carvings of the Sovereign's reign of terror during Zimysta's fall. Within the walls of said pit was a maze of tunnels, chambers, and alcoves adorned with bone braziers and skull sconces that drank the twilight as much as the dais and throne, fueling them with roiling shadowfire that cascaded flashing purples, blues, and grays across the dark gems embedded throughout the space. Sprawling tapestries flickered in their light, showing what was and what it had become as they transitioned from light to darkness. Above was much the same; albeit with a more spacious and elegant design for our members. Though that was not the current object of my eye.

My eyes fell on a dragonborne of midnight scales and leathery wings, kneeling near the dais and glaring contemptuously at the many kobolds nearby. Chortling to myself, I raised my hand and poured energy into the machinations within, spawning a puddle of black, bubbling blood across the ground, its shores lapping as islands of carrion, gold, and gems surfaced to offer themselves to our Sovereign.

"Welcome, my Lordlings." Her silken voice rippled through the shadows before the towering form of a drow coalesced onto her throne, prompting us to bow deeper before her grace. "My task to you is the same as your path," she said to Urshure. "Corrupt metallic dragonborne with shadow and release them upon their domains, keeping the most useful in death. Bring your chromatic cousins into the night. Build your cities in the realm of shadow, under my rule. You will find all you need waiting there."

"Of course, my Sovereign." Urshure backed away with a bow until the darkness took him. Then I approached, bowing in reverence.

"Well done, rider." Sovereign Galendra smiled, turning to me as the many motes of twilight surged from the dais to congeal around her form. "You all have done well in meeting the Elven Devil's standards and unveiling yourselves to the realms. Now, bear the blessings you have yet to receive." The motes of twilight surged from her with the words. Splitting three ways, they swarmed our mounts in gleaming auras while aggregations of dusk and dawn settled before us to enlarge on one end and condense on the other. The former formed a smooth handle and sanguine guard, held in the hand of a hulking set of armor covered in gleaming black scales; Cononthoth's scales, broken off during Zimysta's fall and attached to this unholy set of power armor, beating with a dark heart that pumped her draconic, shadow-infused blood. The same Shadowblood that would make the blade for my handle; any blade I could ever want.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Your tasks from me are complete for now, young rider. Now, the Elven Devil has tasks for you. See to them well."

Backing away with a bow, I led the others out the chamber and took a moment to survey the two-tone horns Hodur now boasted. Swept back against his brow with a slight twist, they appeared identical to the Exalted Gloom's, aside from the color shifting from a black base to purple midsection and gilded tips. Drifting through the striated structures of the Darkheart, I connected to the net to supervise Supreme ArcaTechist Viatrix's work in the Network's apps, going over Amun's grand design for the peninsula's future and comparing it to the work being done in our kingdom.

Both of our works encompassed the surface to the Darkworld and from the borders out to the edge of Shujen Bay. But only ours was underway, preliminary though it may have been. Our undead and Shadowblood machines had excavated vast complexes for a myriad of industries throughout Shujen's underground. Some were filled with industrial plants for the growing undead industries above. Others were for our extensive network of labyrinths, lairs, and tunnels. Yet more were for the crystals and chambers our mountain-crawlers would settle over, becoming places of power for the gloom and shadowfire leaching up from below. As we saw in the Sovereign's lair, much the same had been happening throughout the Darkworld. Cities, outposts, breeding grounds, and habitats for the Kobold Corps and the shadow draconic beasts were being spread across Shujen's Dark Sky, here, and the Underground, where they drank from the rivers of gloom rising from the Darkheart further below. Cities, sanctuaries, and bases were being built throughout the True Darkworld for the vagrants of society, the Owl's followers, and our legionaries, who carved their true lairs in the degenerate matter of the Underdark. While great on its own, the ArcaTech's grand design was far grander in scale; impossible to achieve for anyone else.

The work we were given was to take place between the two regions. The long-term goal was to plug every entrance to the Dark Sky to prepare for our departure to Maru, save the few chasms our mountains would rest on. The short-term goal revolved around Shujen Bay, from the depths to the surface. A great dam was to seal it off from Crater Lake, yet would remain connected to it via canals on either side. Even that was not the end, however. Rather, it was only the beginning. We still needed to train and learn the extent of our perks, recruit more members, and prepare for a likely war against Rhar. And so, I wasted no time in returning to my throne to connect with the vast machinations within.

As my senses merged with the many scrying eyes lining the surface of Mt. Zelbus, improved greatly by the blessings granted by Geri, I witnessed the zealous reactions of the new wave of cultists who populated Dryndrabethei. Those who had grown fond of Zaraxus and thus witnessed the Glutton's rebirth as my Noctis Sage had thus grown fond of me and my moving mountain. Now, they were among us, and a fresh crop had replaced them; and with greater numbers from our debut before the event.

Of course, because of our nature, Simion's description of us was not entirely apt. Clan Gloomscale, our 1st Corps, were our assassins, bodyguards, and the enforcers for our sleeper agents - The 2nd Vassal Sleeper Corps, not the army corps as the realms so thought. Their higher members would use the Flesh Mother' installations to adopt younger bodies and infiltrate foreign lands, rising to positions of power while turning their peers into dormant vampires who'd activate to eliminate key targets, allowing their lower-ranked members to use the Flesh Kitchen to adopt the target's visages and memories, temporarily forgetting their own until they were activated and called into action. Likewise, the 3rd Cult Corps was the 3rd Cult Subversion Corps. A less often deployed force that would operate within the outer fringes of cities and underground, both in the urban sense and the geographical sense. Like the rest of us, they played the long game. But their only goal was to corrupt the local populace into worshiping the Owl and the Exalted Gloom over time.

Where they would go was up for debate. For now, however, they only gathered at the edge of Dryndrabethei to squint and raise their hands at the crawling mountain settling atop the chasm with an eerie silence. At least until a droning rumble preceded the eldritch smoke giving way to the light, when they wailed. I would deal with them later. For now, I opened my mind to the Shadowblood Tech and the similar augmented beasts granted to us by Iris, crammed in the innards of my mountain. Slowly, I guided them down the base and through the chasm below, where they used the blessings from Leary to calcify and mold the energy into pipes, valves, reservoirs, and pools to form a smooth labyrinth stretching deep into the underground that the augmented beasts readily populated.

Despite their numbers, there were countless more alcoves, annexes, and chambers filled with everything from the recreation chambers, illusory game rooms, gymnasiums, and visiting halls designed for us by Blude; the darkness, blood, and iron-loving crops gifted to us by Freki; or nature reserves for Reina's flesh crafted creatures; and our most potent tools - the Blood Womb.

Within moments, the shadowfire miasma flowed into the pipes of Mt. Zelbus to be distributed to the various districts, and I opened my industry tab to see Viatrix splitting the stream across our domains before surging the eldritch energy through our fresh infrastructure, awakening the machinations therein and sustaining the beasts of metal and vampiric gloom that now populated them. Simultaneously, I sent the order to the Glutton to command the armies of undead artisans to march out into Shujen Bay to begin the dam's construction. The Looking Glasses came alight just as the order was received, filling the dark pane before with the maroons and wood browns of the Glutton's office, coupled with his dismissive visage dutifully working through a stack of documents while ensuring to have his fill of bloody meats and wine.

His was a similar schedule to the one Etan and my clone agreed on. Not quite my doppelganger, he, along with our heightened access to the shadow realm, was granted to us by Wilson as a blessing. Regardless, the Abyssal Regent took our nature as isolated vampires into account for our training regimen. Our role was to snake our way into both foreign and domestic societies and tug strings to bring them in line with Eotrom's ideals. And so, the daily disciplinary duties and training regimens assigned to us were less frequent than the other legions, and yet more intensive. Our daily duties were only a few chores and studies while we pursued our ends throughout the day and much of the night. Skills and tasks were to be trained or done while mortals slept. But once a tenday, we were to dip into our lairs within the Darkworld for extensive combat training.

Of all my duties, that was the one I looked forward to the most. Training. For, on one hand, there was a war brewing. But the other hand would give me an understanding of the changes we'd recently faced. Our long-awaited prestige warlock classes.

While it was said that every legionary would be a prestige warlock, the standard legionaries who would come later would go through two steps of their warlock path with every promotion while the Prime's tasks were focused more on our standard procedures coupled with our specific duties. Ours, on the other hand, were more focused on the God-Emperor's intentions for the Marulean Crusade; both the preparation and its aftermath. For example, ArcaTech Viatrix's current task revolved around bringing candidates down the 'March of Progress', whereas mine and the other Conditor revolved around being approved by the Necro King's clone and being accepted by the clan of Death and Darkness, and our rewards were most interesting.

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