141. Vision and Follow-through (Redux)

As soon as the two of them were firmly on the ladder, Petter used [Heat Sink] to 'close' the hole. To any outside observer, especially a soldier who'd hemmed and hawed about breaking down his queen's door, the balcony would look empty and perfectly intact.

Not that Serac could be bothered about interference now—not when she could sense that the goal was near. The ladder—about a hundred feet long, just as expected—connected to another opening at the bottom, which then led into…

A wider passage—this one horizontal, or at least diagonal, thus allowing the Wayfarers to traverse it on foot. The first thing Serac noticed was the ambient light—dim green like the inner lining of the Realm-cave. If she'd needed any more confirmation that she was delving into the hollow insides of the Realm-tree, this was it.

And the second thing: heat. It was warm inside the tunnel, almost so uncomfortably so as to warrant a stronger adjective. For someone who'd gotten accustomed to the Rotgardian winter, then readjusted to Krongard's temperate climate, this was another significant notch up the proverbial dial.

Already starting to sweat, Serac tried to tug on her collar, only to be hindered by her [Abyssal Plate]. She almost thought about shedding the armor right then and there, but… not knowing what threats still awaited at the end of the tunnel, the smart and responsible thing was to leave it on.

As Serac and Petter ventured deeper into the tunnel, she saw that the latter was having a much tougher time of it, sweating profusely from his mackerel-striped head and looking as though his Poise was breaking with every step. It occurred to Serac that she, unlike her Yaksha friend, was no stranger to being roasted alive…

… Which only lent more credence to the idea that the 'architect' of this place was another soul bred and forged from the same inhospitable hellscape. Was Loha trying to recreate her own personal Naraka here inside the Realm-tree?

"Or," Trippy with the timely quip, "it might simply be a case of 'stick to what you know'."

Well, in this case, the architect was clearly someone who 'knew' a lot—at least much more than a hell bumpkin like Serac could hope to match. For the tunnel eventually led into the very center of the Realm-cave, thus revealing the full extent of Loha's mad genius—a bold vision and the means to follow through in spectacular fashion.

In a word, the place was a living, breathing machine. 'Machine' in the sense that its component parts—shaft, pipework, boiler, and more—came together as one busy and enormous apparatus. And 'living and breathing' in the sense that, well, these parts were worked and driven by a veritable army of Aberrant creatures.

Caution utterly displaced by sheer wonder, Serac half-jogged onto a wooden (and conveniently placed) catwalk to get a better look.

Her bulging eyes first landed on a Jotuneter, using several of its tentacles to stick to the cave wall, while the rest were busy throwing a seemingly endless supply of dark objects into a large container. Squinting, Serac managed to identify said objects as Rumpetrolls. The 'container', then, was where the tadpole-like Aberrants self-combusted en masse, thus producing the heat required for some manner of steam engine.

The absurdities didn't end there. The walls were also home to an organized 'queue' of Ulvknalls. The wolf monsters used their well-developed paws, not to throw pocket sand, but to operate the numerous 'switches' that lined various tubings, which all fed into a massive central pipe. These switches were, bizarrely enough, attached to valves made up of Slangespytt swarms, which then opened and closed on command.

"This must be… that 'mechanism'… we saw in the Queen's notes." A rapidly melting Petter sidled up to Serac, forcing out his words through parched lips. "Pumps and siphons… for overharvesting the Realmtree Dew. Although, I didn't… picture it as quite so… big and, uh, self-sustaining."

"What in hell are all these parts for?" Serac wondered aloud, wishing someone more educated—perhaps someone like Renate—were here to explain the nitty-gritty. "I've never seen anything so messy and convoluted yet so elegant!"

That, of course, wasn't quite true. For she'd lived and escaped the Narakite version of something convoluted yet elegant, something that relied on a large Aberrant 'work force' for its operation, and something artificial that intimately integrated itself into a Realm's native ecosystem. Even as a proud Damnatorium survivor, however, Serac had to admit that this had taken the art form to a whole new level…

She was also reminded of a pithy aphorism, passed down from a Manesferan by way of his mama: the best lies are half-truths. For as it turned out, the Realmtree's withering had been masterminded by an 'Aberrant queen' and her horde of loyal Wildspawns—just not the queen everyone was referring to.

Except these weren't Wildspawns… not anymore, anyway. As Serac tuned her focus onto one of the button-swiping wolf boys, she saw the Pathsighted label: [Untamped Ulvknall]. One of King Tyr's Calmspawns—put to work in the 'mines' instead of out to Pasture.

It also had its own health bar, as any Aberrant would. Seeing this, Serac's mind made the next logical leap. I wonder if I can smite it? Well, no point wondering when she was well-equipped to test it out.

By this point in her Pretjordian life, Serac had smiting its various critters down to a science. One unimbued bullet to start things off, followed by [Appetizer] for a significant damage buff. She still needed the remainder of the cylinder to finish the job, but it was her most economical method for smiting an Ulvknall.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Wolf boy crumbled into dirt and tree bits, presumably to return to its Tamped cube form. Instead, the particles swirled in place for a second or two, then clumped back together into the same Untamped shape as before. Even in terms of its 'job', it barely missed a beat—right back to swiping switches as if nothing had happened.

Serac only took a moment to recover from her shock, before turning her attention onto the first Ulvknall's 'co-workers'. No reaction whatsoever. Everything and everyone kept chugging along, as if an intruder hadn't just fired off six loud shots with her six-shooter.

"Wow," Serac murmured, genuinely impressed. "I've never seen any Aberrant behave like that, 'Calm' or no. Must be some powerful magic at work here. You reckon Mr King is in on this too?"

Petter parted his parched lips to answer, then seemed to think better of it. He opted for a slightly less taxing shake of the head. Serac couldn't tell if it meant 'no' or 'I don't know'—not that it really made a difference.

"Right, we can worry about this machine later." Serac took it upon herself to decide on next steps. "First, let's see if your hunch was correct, Petey. About Renate being locked up in here. Gods, if she is, I hope she's handling the heat okay!"

Before going ahead with the search & rescue, Serac took a moment to get her bearings.

The catwalk she stood on now was clearly meant for easy access from the tunnel. Looking down (Roots-ward), she saw nothing but more moving parts and more Aberrants—very little in the way of footpaths or even platforms to hold onto. It appeared then, that a bulk of the mechanism went up towards the very Apex of the Realmtree.

What about the water? The so-called 'internal reservoir'?

Nothing. Not even so much as an errant spray. Granted, Serac couldn't see anything in the darker depths below, but she doubted even a ripple-reader could—

"It's all in the pipe," Petter said in between labored breaths, evidently having read Serac's mind as well as the ambient ripples.

"The pipe? You mean that big one in the middle?"

A labored nod from the mackerel man. Serac turned to inspect the center of the mechanism, herself filling with dread as much as awe.

The pipe in question looked to be built from recycled tree innards, sanded down and stripped clean of the earthiness that gave the Realmtree its character. In fact, it was so alien in appearance that it paradoxically made it easier to accept the sheer lunacy of its existence… which didn't bode well for Pretjord's future as a sustainable biome.

And all for one crazy Rakshasa's personal use? Gods—up close, this looks even worse than what we imagined from the blueprints…

All the more reason to find Renate—the one soul who might be both spiteful enough to fight the queen and brainy enough to understand her machine. To that end, Serac hurried onto a spiral staircase that rose from the catwalk, with Petter limping to follow.

So far, Team Serac's rescue mission had met their only resistance in the form of dutiful Kronvakt members. Well, either the Kronvakt's duty didn't extend to sweating themselves silly inside a boiling hot cave, or their queen hadn't entrusted them with her deepest secrets. Whatever the case might be, Serac and Petter proceeded through the spiral footpath unimpeded, slowed only by the heat and their own flagging energy.

The Calmspawns too seemed perfectly happy to let them through. Evidently, stopping would-be saboteurs wasn't part of their job description—which in itself was remarkable, going against the fundamental nature of the Aberrant-Wayfarer relationship.

After what felt like hours to Serac (and possibly Kalpas to Petter), the pair finally reached the top. For the central pipe did flatten off, right where the Apical Bough itself began to taper into its topmost strip. And what awaited on the 'roof' of the machine defied all imagination—even more profoundly than everything else that came before it.

It was another tree. Tall. Proud. Lush and glistening with the bright-green leaves that adorned its crown. A very much organic sight amidst a mechanical fever dream.

A tree inside a tree? Serac thought dully, flitting in and out of heat-exhausted consciousness. Now I've seen everything…

Stepping up onto the roof, it became clear that the tree was in fact a seamless extension of the machine. Whatever liquid flowed through the piping system must've been pumped directly through the second tree's roots, before being converted into…

The Realmtree Dew. The leaves glistened so brightly because they brimmed with dewdrops, which then fed directly into the numerous receptacles that surrounded the trunk. This was the 'siphon' as described by Loha's notes! Who could've guessed that it consisted of an actual, living tree?

Serac quelled her impulse to rush towards the tree right away. Yes, Loha's despicable work needed to be stopped, but finding Renate was still the top priority. To that end, an inspection of the surroundings was in order.

As empty and spartan as Loha's private chamber had been, her 'cave' was busy, and cluttered with various objects—many of which were incomprehensible to the untrained eye. There were more desks here and more secretive notes written in hieroglyphics, but beyond that, Serac was at a loss to describe what she saw.

Shelves lined with strange instruments, seemingly neither Narakite nor Pretjordian in origin. Drying racks filled with various plants and animal parts—ingredients, perhaps, for Loha's unique brand of alchemy. Suffice to say, this was a place well-worn by use. The Rakshasa queen had spent months, years, decades, centuries here in this stuffy cave, working on her secret project.

Serac walked past the desks, the shelves, and the racks, eyes peeled for anything that might be used to confine a soul against her will. She thought she found one, when she stepped upon a metallic plate that was fused with the floor.

The plate contained 'holes' in a circular pattern—insertion points, one might imagine, for the bars that make up a cage. But such bars were absent, and nor did they suddenly spring up in response to Serac's presence. False alarm. Yet, it did leave her wondering just what the thing was supposed to be.

Serac's search eventually took her to the the base of the tree inside a tree. And here, finally, she saw it. Well, strictly speaking, what she saw was a pile of fallen leaves, barely notable in context. But what she read was a Pathsighted label, familiar and reassuring—save for one important detail:

[Designation: THE FINLESS]

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