Chapter 93 – Proof Of Concept (1/2)

A sound that Kairon could only describe as nightmarish came from the twelve original imps on the first void calling.

Three of them stopped their chanting, the speckled stars in their cowls winking out from existence until they had only faces of pure black.

But it didn’t stop there.

Void had been called, and a slothful undoing had seemingly been channeled to them.

“Sythara! The void imps! Can you do something?!” shouted Kairon. “Hush warned me of the price The Plane requires, but perhaps there is something you could do? Anything that does not give up more of your shapes or power?”

Even as he spoke, their tattered cowls of brown, crude leather had begun to peel away like rotten fruit. The flesh on their arms flaked into ash, and the claws on their hands and feet began to wither.

The demoness gave him a look. “Not in my current state, child. Not in my current state.” Clicking her tongue, she simply let her dark tentacles droop around her. “Besides, what has been done can not be unraveled. They have given in to the end.”

Deflating a bit, Kairon saw she was right. “Everything has a price.”

Shaking his head, he checked on the rest of the void imps. None showed the same signs as the husks that were the three deceased ones, but he knew that might not stay that way for long.

Hush had joined the newest void calling himself, both arms raised above his head and starry eyes gleaming a violet purple. Kairon did note that the bottom of Hush’s cowl turned that same violet color, but it wasn’t spreading fast.

As far as the three lost imps, it thankfully wasn’t looking like a price paid in vain. He’d remember it, however. Three dark coins paid from the coffers of his city’s populace.

Taking a deep breath, he turned his vision downwards again. Just like the skin of his void imps, the gateway to The Plane too was peeling away. Faster and faster, until finally the purple gleam shining in his mind went dull.

The ground stilled and the void imps went quiet, save the six calling of forge.

They too went silent not a minute later, the stone beneath the industrializer seemingly being reinforced enough to keep the creation standing.

And what a creation it was.

At last, after nearly an hour, the beacon of blazing orange light faded to nothingness.

“Well there she is,” breathed Kairon. At the heart of all the commotion, a gargantuan steampunk factory had been constructed.

In its center, an oversized furnace of slate gray metal had been erected. Muted red and orange embers smoldered in it, leaking tiny wisps of smoke into the air. Around it, bronze pipes, levers, and pistons were arranged. Each was set to a different angle, with gauges and dials nearby. There were even several red valves that must have some purpose.

Kairon had no clue as to what. Not yet, at least.

At the top of the furnace, great smoke pipes waited. No smoke came from them, but their function was evident enough.

But that was just the heart of it.

Around the furnace, taking up nearly the circumference covering the three building slots it had claimed, was a circular conveyor belt. A series of mechanical arms were positioned above it, with more pipes, levers, and valves bristling on every open inch of the factory.

Oddly, there were several junctions leading onto the belt with wooden and iron railways—some even had a few mine carts with parts or huge buckets of molten lava. Lava that leaked an envious forge energy.

Magma was even dripping off several places on the belt itself, landing on the metal flooring with a sizzle.

He was just adding a mental note to ensure no imps got too close to that stuff when there was a sharp groan, followed by one of the great buckets that sat upon the factory’s railways toppling straight over. It landed on the ground with an enormous clattering, sending molten lava splattering everywhere.

“Ah!” Reeling back, Kairon pulled up his cape and took ten healthy steps in the other direction. He waited for a count of thirty, but no other buckets fell.

Yet.

Being careful to watch the upper rails, he slowly moved closer again.

Staying true to its namesake as the Infernal Industrializer, sets of oversized interlocking chains were thrown in strands from different places. They connected machines and pulleys to the center mass of it all, making it appear like a great metal spiderweb from above.

Then he noticed the pylons.

“I think… We’re married to this lava spewing contraption,” said Kairon. Walking slowly around the metallic flooring that was branching dangerously close to the fourth building spot, the city lord began to count.

By the time he made a full revolution, he tallied up ten great bronze pylons that connected the Infernal Industrializer to his city. They all had a beam of pure orange running through them.

When viewed with his mindspace, the reason became more clear.

Connections. Between the time where the ritual had winked out and now, this machine had somehow drawn up a connection to every building in his city. Like it somehow grew little passageways.

Yet, they were dormant. They weren’t the orange of forge, but dull and hard in his mental senses.

“No… Those look less like connections and more like veins. Like a heart. A beating, living heart. Created right in my own city.” Kairon needed more information. He wasn’t an engineer—he was a bureaucrat.

So he reviewed what he could. The notification had said a pact had been formed, right?

Flipping open his claw, he tried summoning a pact between himself and the Infernal Industrializer.

In short order, a glowing contract was summoned. After a quick perusal Kairon determined that it was less akin to that of Boney’s or Bean’s, and more to Sythara’s. The pact itself was made up of several core pages, but of course had the boilerplate overleaf with far more language within.

Honestly? The pact wasn’t what he expected. “It’s almost like this contract was made for a demon. I mean—if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was. But in reality, I have a pact with a building.” Narrowing his eyes, he looked back at the Industrializer.

If he squinted, its central forge did have two large embers that sort of looked like eyes. They even blinked.

Wait. They blinked?

Kairon cocked his head.

The eyes blinked again.

“Oh. Uhm. You wouldn’t happen to be able to talk, would you?”

A low, grating sound was his reply, followed by a puff of black smog coughing up from the central hearth. “I WISH TO CREATE,” bellowed a booming voice.

Okay. It did talk. Which meant it likely had some level of sapience. So he had a sapient building, literally fused to his domain.

“I wonder what you can do,” he muttered. The sapience brought on all kinds of new possibilities. Danger, too. But the possibilities…

As far as the danger went, the pact formed by The Plane gave him a measure of safety. However, this creation was made by a member of The Board. If he wanted to fully utilize it, and prevent any… issues… he needed to tread carefully.

“I am Kairon, lord of this city. I’m thrilled to meet you!” He paused, choosing his words with the utmost care. This was a creation of pure forge by all accounts. Kairon needed to treat it as such.

“KAIRON.” The forge breathed in, and out, each time bringing and drawing in that black smoke. “KAIRON. CITY LORD. WHAT DO YOU CREATE?” asked the hearth. Its voice was deep, but grating.

And loud. Very loud.

Considering the creation before him, the demon thought about what to do here. About how to communicate best with his new building.

It was of creation, and creation was of forge. Forge was envy. The desire to reshape, to remake, to create your dreams and desires with physical constructs. Which meant…

“I strive to create a city to protect my own. To build the largest, most impressive center of demonic and imp populace The Plane has ever seen on this realm. To reshape a nest in this world for me. To make others envy what we have.”

“THIS REALM?” The two ember eyes floated around. They seemed to take in the city, to take in the sky, and then to take in Kairon. Beneath, he even felt a slight tremor in the dozens of veins below his city.

It was feeling.

“I WISH TO CREATE.”

Was this forge a child? Was the transition to this realm with the pact some sort of catalyst for its birth? That would certainly explain its simple nature and speech.

“Yes. I understand. Why don’t we create together?” asked Kairon, trying to direct the conversation where he wanted.

“CREATE TOGETHER?”

“Yes, yes. Together. You want to create. I want to desire. Maybe we can form a sort of agreement. Tell me, Industrializer. What is it you want to create? What do you desire to reshape?”

“MMMM.” A low clanging filled the area, as it seemingly thought.

Nearby, the other demons had begun approaching and inspecting the creation too. Sythara had the look of a most interested scientist written all over her face. “Child! It is talking?!”

“It is,” he said slowly. “But please, let me do the speaking here. We don’t want any incidents.”

“But buildings do not talk, child! It is quite irregular! I wish to know why!”

“This one does.” Kairon gave her a sideways glance. “You may observe and take measurements, but do so quietly.”

She nodded, heading over to the edge of the Industrializer. His demoness seemed very interested in the outer area of it. “This building,” she whispered just loud enough he could make it out. The forge, meanwhile, was still clanking away. Glancing this way and that with its embers.

“What of it?” he asked.

“It was removed from something else,” said Sythara.

It only took him a second to realize what she meant.

The railways leading to the Industrializer’s conveyor belt were clearly bisected midway. Cleanly, with no cracks or fault lines. The Plane had yanked the factory from the middle of whatever housing it had—presumably The Creator’s—and dropped it right here.

That also explained the ramshackle bucket of molten lava that was still overturned on his forge district, a puddle of steaming red goo leaking from it.

“That… might be problematic.” Kairon pursed his lips, considering.

If the supplies in those mine carts were used to feed the Infernal Industrializer with energy, he would need to find a way to recreate or somehow supplement what they did.

Assuming they wanted to, that was.

Then, a lightbulb went off in his head. Just in time as it seemed their new building had made a decision.