Rhamiel turned his attention to the sound, mind racing. He followed it and found a creature outside the wall.

  It stood over twelve feet tall, bipedal and humanoid in shape, it had two arms and a head that ended its similarities to people. It was a creature with skin made of tanned leather, stuffed with straw. It was clothed in a heavy cotton jacket and white pants, paired with heavy boots that reminded Rhamiel of a soldier's uniform. Its arms were too long and ended in heavy wooden claws, each hand holding a sickly green-coated sickle. A neck of banded straw led up to the pumpkin head that moved as if it were a humanoid face.

  With an intake of breath, the thing raised its face to the sky and howled again, its voice full of agony-filled rage. No one was near that section of the wall where this Scarecrow Creature was; the closest fighter was Apprentice Keane, but even he was a few minutes' jog away from the beast.

  Rhamiel used his Aspected Analysis Perk.

  “Wait,” Rhamiel paused, frozen in thought. Core Beast? Aspect Core? Does that mean this is the nearby Spirit Core? The one that The Hero was actually looking for? Please don’t tell me that this thing is here for…

  At the apex of its disturbing howl, the sickles ignited into acrid flames.

  “Crud,” Rhamiel sighed. “Apprentice Keane, please hurry. I’ll try to hold it off for a moment, and the wall will only- oh, never mind.”

  “Where is the Core!!” Nils shouted, his voice shrill and unnatural. “I am not playing this game of hide and seek! Choose your representative and come out!”

  Well, that made this choice easy. He could hold the Core Beast off for a few minutes. Or at least keep him talking until Apprentice Keane finally showed up.

  Taking a moment, Rhamiel summoned his presence immediately to the right of the Core Beast and spoke with more certainty than he felt. “No need for a representative, I can talk to you like this. I am Rhamiel.”

  It turned its attention to face the source of the sound, and looked up where it thought… No, it knew where Rhamiel’s presence was hovering. That thought made Rhamiel a little worried, but he held back from commenting on his concern. A win in his opinion.

  The pumpkin head broke into a ragged smile, “Interesting. Not like a normal Dungeon Core or Druid Core. Definitely not a Creature Core. What kind of Core are you, and why are you raising humans for the slaughter instead of just killing them?”

  Raising humans for slaughter, yup, not friendly. Not friendly! Talkative, but he would likely try to harm his citizens, and that would not do. Feeling vindicated for summoning back-up, Rhamiel attempted to stall for time.

  “Wow, then what are you? I know you are a Creature Core, but what are you? You're like a moving doll filled with foliage.” Rhamiel stated smugly. “What kind of beast is that for you to be considered a Creature Core?”

  “I’m a Golem,” Nils answered. “I wanted something that could use these.” He lifted the two sickles it wielded and ground the blades together, green flames and white sparks flying from the contact.

  “Those are pretty nifty,” Rhamiel agreed, using Aspected Analysis on the Sickles.

  Ignoring all of the many implications that this description contained, Rhamiel locked in on the one piece of information that mattered now. “Witchfire?” Rhamiel questioned.

  “Yesssss,” Nils hissed with pleasure at the recognition. “I found these years ago after I fell into this world; they were in the throne room of a castle devoid of all humanoid life. Other beasts roamed the halls but avoided getting too close to these beauties. And since I found them, my life has been much easier. I mean, I was able to evolve from a Natural Core Golem to something with many more possibilities. Who knows? Maybe one day I will be able to fight off some of the Greater Bosses and make their strength my own.”

  “Wow, that is some… lofty goals,” Rhamial commented.

  “What is the point of living in this world of decline if we cannot dream of heights unattainable before we arrived?” Nils chuckled menacingly. “Besides, the blades want to be used on the powerful; they yearn for it. And that is where you come in.”

  Readying a Fractal Shear spell, Rhamiel tentatively asked, “Oh, what do you want from me?”

  “Now, you see, I am trying to find a friend or two who have different power sets than I do to help me do these things. Reinforcements that can provide monster fodder or special items to assist me, no one can fight these monsters around us alone. Not that it looks like you are alone,” Nils sneered. “I ask again, what kind of Core are you to allow all these Enlightened to remain uncontested within your Domain?”

  “A smart one,” Rhamiel answered quickly. “What monsters? These beasts surrounding my walls? These aren’t too bad, there are a lot of them, but not too many-”

  “These things!” Nils shot. “No, the monsters above these. Not even Field Bosses or Area Bosses, but the Country Bosses and the City Bosses. Who knows? Maybe even the World Bosses,” the Core Beast looked up, and that pumpkin smile turned wistful. “Wouldn’t that be something? Can you imagine that? Being powerful enough to slay a World Boss like the Eternal Drought?”

  “No, I can’t,” Rhamiel said. “I haven’t even heard of that guy.”

  The pumpkin head literally blinked at the space where Rhamiel’s perception was floating. “How… How could you not know?”

  “None of these humans have brought it up to me yet, and I am busy with personal projects, ones that you are slowing down just by talking to me,” he told the rather creepy guy.

  “Then allow me to make my point,” Nils brought the point of the sickle down onto a part of his wall. “Like I said, I need help from other Cores. Many other species band together for a common purpose, and we do not know what will happen to us after the Age of Decline ends. We Cores may need to work together to ensure we are ready for whatever comes next, and I would champion that cause. As the Leader of our coalition, I-”

  “You, the leader?” Rhamiel questioned derisively. “A literal scarecrow. You may be the first Scarecrow I have ever seen, but even I know they are not something to be afraid of. Why should you be the one in charge of this hypothetical group?”

  He took a moment to check on Apprentice Keane, who was coming along. More time was needed, or he would have to find a way to defeat him by himself.

  “Because I am the only Spirit Core that is mobile, I am the best choice for the Leader with that alone. Add the fact that I also have these, which are giving me specialized evolution options, and I am the obvious lea-”

  “Of what?” Rhamiel probed further. “A hypothetical two-person group? I mean, sure, if I decided to join you, you could be the Leader, but you would only be bossing me around, not much of a coalition if you ask me.”

  “You are just the beginning,” Nils tried to persuade him. “I have spoken with a few other Cores, and none have been very interested in working together unless I could prove able to hold up my end of the deal. Which is to defeat a being equivalent to a Boss or a Boss themself. Which is why I am here.”

  “Oh?” Rhamiel asked.

  “I believe I caught something that was in the area looking for me. A human driven mad by the Deity Core of Udarov, I want his head. Just his head,” Nils smiled widely. “Nothing else required. If you killed him, that would be quite a feat, and it would prove your might. But I ask again, what kind of Core are you? Druid Core. Dungeon Core? If you are a Creature Core, you are a strange one, and I don’t smell your divinity to be a Deity Core.”

  He trailed off, sniffing the air, “wait. What is that smell?” Nils questioned. “It's divine, but not like the Core of Udarov. It smells like… them, directly.”

  “You can smell what? Divinity? Mana?” Rhamiel asked, genuinely curious.

  “I can smell divine mana,” it confirmed. “What you have is faint, but potent. You are rather intriguing, Rhamiel.” Nils grinned. “So, for the last time, what are you? Why are you harboring those Enlightened? And why aren’t you answering?!”

  Checking again, Apprentice Keane had gotten distracted by a gaunt, undead creature with dusky gray skin, four arms tipped with pale, two-foot nails.

  Great, I'll have to deal with this.

  Before speaking, Rhamiel sent off a distress call to all the fighters of the settlement.

  “Hey, so a Creature Core is trying to recruit me for his cause. I was waiting for Apprentice Keane to come and assist, but he’s been waylaid. Someone, come help. I will try to hold him off.”

  His proclamation was immediately met with incredulity, but none could get there fast enough. Something in his instincts told him that the moment he revealed his nature. He could lie, but he had already listed all the Spirit Core types he knew, so could he lie convincingly?

  Maybe.

  “I am a Civilization Core,” Rhamiel answered him. “That Divine power you sense comes from one of the buildings I have made beyond this wall.”

  Nils froze, as unnaturally still as the wall his weapon was still piercing. “What is a Civilization Core?” It asked, its voice low and oddly dangerous.

  “I don’t build dungeons or grow forests or whatever Deity Cores do,” Rhamiel delayed. “I build cities and work together with the Enlightened… as partners,” he added after a brief pause.

  “You build cities?” it repeated incredulously. “What tripe, I have never heard of such a heretical thing.”

  “Heretical?” Rhamiel questioned. “I don’t think so. This was just a choice that appeared to me, and it called out to me. Didn’t the same happen to you?”

  “Yes,” Nils answered begrudgingly. “But with your inverted morals, I suppose you are no longer an option for my coalition. I will just have to break you and all your enlightened friends before I find another.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Come and get me, uh,” he struggled to find a word that sounded good to finish off with, deciding to go with one that he had heard shot around the settlement. “Jerk”

  The pumpkin heads' smiles twisted into a sneer. “If this is all you have to stop me, then I doubt this will be difficult, Civilization Core. Bah.”

  The Golem drew back his sickle and reignited the Witchfire before he began attacking the wall. Each swipe burned and destroyed chunks of the wall with the Witchfire as well as the physical blades.

  With the sixth swing, the attack breached the heavily logged wall and burst a hole in it with a shower of wood splinters and chunks. Holstering the sickles, Nils walked up to the wall, grabbed each side of the hole, and pulled. Witchfire ignited along his body as he pulled the hole apart, bodily ripping a section of the wall apart.

  “Feeble.”

  Before he got out of range of the neighboring walls, Rhamiel used Fractal Shear. Rhamiel felt the Divine Mana of Order form into the spell and cut into the Scarecrow Golems' chest, reality splitting where it hit. An infinite black filled the space, as if Rhamiel were looking into the dark night sky between stars, forcing this damaged reality to remain for a time.

  The Scarecrow stumbled back, and Rhamiel held back, activating another. He might be able to beat him, but only carefully and with precision.

  Looking down at the fresh scar on his form, Nils ran a claw over the large wound, and his smile widened. “Divine Order? You can cast Order Magic? Interesting, it really is too bad you need the Enlightened, I would be interested to see what we could have done as a team.”

  “Oh, well, I-”

  “Shut up,” Nils shot. “It's interesting, but not good enough.”

  Redrawing his Sickles, he took slow, almost methodical steps towards the center of the settlement. Nils looked around as he approached, head on a swivel, keeping a wary eye for any threats coming towards him. After a few minutes of his slow walk with nothing approaching, he frowned, “What, no monsters to send against me? Or… wait, is that the price you paid for this?” he gestured to the building he was approaching. “The Enlightened in exchange for no Monsters?”

  He got it right, but Rhamiel wasn’t going to admit that.

  “Nope, wrong!” Rhamiel responded loudly. “They are busy fighting off the monsters, so you wouldn’t have seen them.”

  “Sure,” Nils nodded. “Now, let's see. Where would you be?” It asked, looking around at the seemingly haphazard buildings scattered across the area. “I guess you are building stuff, but where would you put yourself to keep yourself safe?”

  The Scarecrow mused for a long moment before turning his attention to the Tier 1 Eldritch Cathedral Base. “I sense the Ordered Magic coming from there. I could see a Core hiding itself over there.”

  Nils actually began humming as he walked, the ends of his legs not formed into stubby feet Rhamiel had suspected, but rounded stumps, thumping into the ground. Even now, his steps were slow and careful, but Rhamiel wasn’t sure it was entirely because Nils was careful. It was because he couldn’t go any faster. His Physiology wouldn’t allow it.

  Rhamiel prepared himself by sending a few Drones to locations around the settlement, setting up contingencies in case he could not stop this guy. To be honest, he doubted it. If One Fractal Shear could not even slow it down or cause it to hesitate, then what would more do? Maybe stop him, but he doubted it.

  At the entrance to the Cathedral, Nils paused. “Potent Divine Magic here. Magic of the Outer Gods is an aberrant thing in this world, and yet you align yourself with that as well. You are more foolish the more I learn.”

  “What can I say? Any power is good,” Rhamiel brushed it off. “Besides, you wield divine sickles. What is the difference between you and me?”

  “I owe no allegiance to dead gods, I just brandish one of their tools,” Nils answered as he stepped into the Cathedral.

  Immediately, he paused as the Witchfire on the sickles burned with more vigor than before. It was as if someone had thrown accelerant onto the flames, the flames almost screaming as they raged on the blades.

  Rhamiel was reminded of the last line of text on the Witchfire Sickles of the Sisterhood Hag, ‘and wreath these blades in the caustic flames that even burned divinity.’

  “Great, and he chose to go to the one place filled with Divinity,” Rhamiel cursed to himself.

  “An actual temple?” He questioned. “Oh, that does explain the Divine Mana I caught on the breeze. But why would a Core want a temple?” He paused, and Rhamiel was sure he was looking up the building's properties. “The Eldritch Cathedral Tier 1, a special building that can worship all of the Outer Gods. What an absurd thing.”

  “That is what I am told.”

  “No matter, I will have to start breaking these things down one by one,” Nils said as he began to approach the Altar that held the Spell Catalyst for his Wisdom Spells.

  Rhamiel immediately unleashed the next Fractal Shear. A second gash appeared across the Scarecrow's form, this time running up from his chest to above his right eye, intersecting the first spell's instance over its chest. The Scarecrow staggered back a step, raising its sickles up defensively.

  “Mantle of Witchfire,” Nils growled.

  Much like when he pulled apart the wall, sickly green fire spread across his shoulders and arms. After the green flame had finished spreading, it looked like a cloak had spread across its form, probably a defense of some kind.

  After checking the amount of Divine Mana he had left in the tank, he confirmed that he had enough for one more use of Fractal Shear. But perhaps it was time to change tactics.

  Rhamiel drew upon his Divine Mana of Madness and used the Howling Spiral spell, centering the whirlwind on Nils' position.

  Winds howled, and the large Scarecrow Golem struggled to remain on his feet for a handful of seconds. But regaining his stance, he stood up straight. Then he began to look around, hearing the voices that accompanied the spell as cuts began to litter his exterior. It looked at where Rhamiel’s perspective watched on as if in disappointment.

  “Come, Twittering,” Nils ordered, the green flames about his body changing to white. But along with the change, the Golem’s posture altered, now hunched forward and blades held low and to the sides. All while the controlled look in its eyes became something more chaotic, unable to focus.

  And with a wave of one of the sickle blades, Rhamiel felt his spell shatter, the winds dying as a burst of green flame and swirling winds sliced apart his spell.

  “Aww,” Nils cooed. “Is that it? Is that all your little winds can do? That's too bad. Really! Really! Really!” his voice changing from patronizingly sweet to loud and aggressive. “Now, do you have any more tricks to show?! Anything more to show that you are more than these little people scurrying about your walls?!”

  Nils did a slight tapping motion in the air with the sickle tips, pantomiming the action of something scurrying around. He cackled at the action, and Rhamiel found himself confused by the sudden change in personality.

  “Who are you and what have you done with Nils?” Rhamiel accused the Golem.

  “Me?! Oh, I’m still Nils,” The Golem nodded. “But I am also so many more just waiting to be called, due to these powerful blades. Hehehehehehe.”

  Rhamiel watched on with no small amount of horror as Nils' smile grew wide with maddened glee.

  “This personality belongs to the Twittering, as chaotic as the winds she can commune with and control. And now, your winds are useless,” Nils chittered. “And now…” he trailed off, focusing on the Wisdom Spell Catalyst.

  He approached it, still hunched forward, each step a small one that would have looked rather comical if not for the dire situation. With every step, Nils continued that crazed cackle, and Rhamiel sent everyone the Golem’s location. He still hoped someone would come and help him before he lost some of the usefulness he had regained. But then the enemy did something that really showed the difference in Nils' normal personality and the Twitterings.

  He looked at the Lyer Holy Symbol of Order, with its dull and shining silver pieces combining into an intricate whole, and just walked around it excitedly. Rhamiel followed the Golem’s perspective and looked where it seemed it was looking and was a little surprised at what he thought was going on.

  Whatever the Twittering was in Nils' head, that personality seemed to love shiny objects, watching where the light shone off them.

  Its little entrancement was broken a moment later by a yell.

  “Seriously, Core!” Apprentice Keane shouted. “You needed help with this nutty thing!”

  The young man held his signature longsword in one hand, but it was held lazily at his side. The young man looked dishevelled; his usually well-kept leather chest piece and braces were shredded, he wore only one boot, and he was breathing heavily. His piercing blue eyes bored into the Golem in its ridiculous posture, and he fixed his long brown hair so it did not hang in his eyes. “I mean, this thing is ridiculous!"

  The Golem turned to look at Nils, its head moving deliberately slow as it fixed a glare at the Apprentice.

  “Ri-ri-rediculous! I- I’m not ridiculous!” It stammered incredulously. Nils then stood up straight and, voice harsh, said, “Come, Schrafe.”

  The flames changed from white to a matte steel color, no longer flowing off his body as before but clinging to him like clothing. This new look made Rhamiel nervous.

  “Be careful, it did something a minute ago and changed. I think it's doing it again,” Rhamiel warned.

  Nils stood straight, but not just straight, but stood unmoving. The right leg was bent and forward, and the other was moved, with both weapons behind its back. “It would be wise to listen to the Core; he’s been talking incessantly.” He said, with the same voice and quality, but the words came out smoother, more cultured than a moment earlier.

  “Come on, Core,” Apprentice Keane shook his head. “It's still just a scarecrow. What do you think it can do to me?”

  Still sure of himself, the Apprentice approached with his sword held before him. He looked over the Scarecrow with a confident expression and spoke with a dismissive tone, “Martial Charge.”

  His sword glowed silver and vibrated the air with an intensity that Rhamiel hadn’t seen yet from any of his Citizens. Raising the sword above his head, the Apprentice practically leaped forward with

  the sword ready to swing down, the Scarecrow being the apex of the swing.

  With a deft turn and flick of the sickles from behind him, Nils took the special attack from the Apprentice on one sickle and turned the attack aside. He then swung the sickle down and up in a graceful arc, the witchfire flames arcing up in an almost solid line of matte steel flames that caught the Apprentice across the shoulder.

  The Apprentice screamed as half the leather he wore fell off and began oozing blood, the young man immediately standing and looking more serious than a moment prior.

  “Am I just a Scarecrow now, young man?” Nils asked, humor dripping from every word.

  “That's a Creature Core,” Rhamiel told him. “Did I not say this? I thought I did.”

  “Great, that's just great,” the Apprentice groaned, lips curling in a snarl. “Any chance back-up is coming? Maybe Graham or Elgeia?”

  Rhamiel checked their positions and sighed, “No. It doesn’t look like it. Elgeia is trying to hurry, but she’s not very fast. And Graham is dealing with some kind of humanoid bird soldier thing. Sorry, but it looks like you are on your own.”

  “Then I am probably going to die here,” he said with a growl. “This is just fantastic.”

  “Oi'!” shouted a deep voice that Rhamiel was not expecting to hear. Karrow ran forward, his blue-tinted Pickax raised high as he charged at incredible speed. “Ta’ thi’ Motha’ Fu-”

  Nils repeated the action he had performed on the Apprentice, deflecting the attack with one sickle, then moving to attack with the other. But that is where the difference ended. Karrow’s attack came down with enough force and at an odd angle with the Pickax’s tip towards the Golem’s center mass that he failed to deflect it adequately.

  The blow still did not reach the Golem’s torso, but the attack knocked it back several feet with a wooden crunch, meeting all of their ears. Rhamiel had a sickening feeling that, if Nils were a human or an elf, his arms would have broken under that strain.

  “Damn, I’ve been ambushed… by a miner!” Nils burst out laughing. “Seriously, is this the best you can do, Core? Align yourself with the Enlightened in the worst point in history for them, and you think you can keep winning?”

  “I jus’ broke ya arms!” Karrow shouted. “Doht get snippy wit me.”

  Nils just smiled, “Repair,” and with a green glow, both of his arms snapped again with a groaning flex of wood under great strain. “There, all better.”

  The Golem spread his arms wide, spreading out his stance with both sickles displayed to his sides. “Come on, neither of you two is good enough to stop me from doing what I want, so you can either run along and maybe live a little longer or resist further and die before your Core. Either way, I am going to do what I want before anyone more imposing arrives.”

  Rhamiel wasn’t paying attention to Nils' rant; he saw something. Across the Golem’s torso, where the two unhealing gashes that his Fractal Shear spells intersected, there was a gap in its chest. Where, connected to the outer structure by actual lines of green flame, was a blood-red crystal. He recalled what he knew of Creature Cores from his initial choice prompt: that they clothed themselves in mana to create a body; it did not say they replaced the Core itself.

  It only took Rhamiel a moment to formulate a plan, albeit not a very good one.

  He told Apprentice Keane and Karrow the plan. The Miner nodded, while the Apprentice groaned.

  “Fine,” he said. “Not like I have anything else to do.”

  “Come, Annis,” Nils spoke, and the Scarecrow looked like he had grown a foot in height. Arms grew, shoulders bunched, and something in its expression became barbaric and wrong; its eyes were mismatched and lopsided. The flames across its body and the weapons took on a shifting purple and blue hue.

  With a feral roar, the Scarecrow charged with the weapons, swiping at the Apprentice as he stood his ground. Deflecting the sickles but being knocked aside as if he were half his size, that brief opening, Karrow stepped in and swung his pickaxe as horizontally into the Golem's chest. The Golem raised its sickles to catch the tool and leaned into its defense, managing to stop his attack this time.

  “Knights' Oath! Heavy Swing!” Apprentice Keane shouted as he charged. Coming in from the Golem’s left side, he swung the blade from right to left into its back, the sword fast but supernaturally heavy.

  The blade struck home in Nils's back, and he cried out in anger as he pushed the Miner back and turned to swing with his left blade into the Apprentice’s torso. The blood from the Apprentice practically crawled up the blade for that split moment before he backed off it and ran a hand to the wound to staunch the bleeding. But even as he moved away, the Scarecrow turned towards the Apprentice, swinging down with its right sickle.

  “Fractal Shear!” Rhamiel actually shouted. Aiming the spell and carving another unhealing gouge into its torso.

  “Really, Rhamiel!” it shouted angrily. Venom practically dripped from its mouth as it spoke his name, but Rhamiel just needed a few more seconds. “You stay out of this fight, and then you interrupt me?! I guess if I kill one of these two, it will actually hurt you, right?!”

  Then, with an immediacy that surprised Rhamiel, Nils swung down and into the Apprentice’s shoulders, holding the weapon in place while he cackled madly. The Apprentice screamed, and blood welled from the wounds and climbed up the sickles, the red of the blood joining the blue and purple of the flames about the weapons.

  “Die! Hahahaha,” Nils laughed manically as he pushed the blades deeper.

  Behind the Golem, Karrow drove his Pickax down onto its back. Screaming, the Golem got distracted just long enough for the Apprentice to shove his arm into the hole made by Rhamiel’s last Fractal Shear and grab the Core in its chest.

  And with a vicious pull that aggravated the wounds that the sickles had made, still embedded in his shoulders, the Core snapped free from all the green flames that held it in the Golem’s center with painful screams.

  Apprentice Keane fell backwards, the Core in his hand as he hit the ground.

  Rhamiel ignored the prompts, instead calling Yule over to try to heal the Apprentice with his potions. Karrow was injured, but there was nothing life-threatening from what he could see.

  “Oh, I level’d up,” he stated, a little surprised. “I have’t level’d up from fighten in yea’s.”

  “I got two levels,” Apprentice Keane wheezed. “Cool reward if I wasn’t dying here. Hey, Karrow, think you can get these outa me? They are still drawing out more blood.”

  Rhamiel was surprised to confirm that the blades were still drawing out the young human’s blood and blending it with the sickle's fiery miasma.

  Karrow positioned himself above the apprentice's torso, flexing his fingers to prepare. He had not grabbed the handles yet; he wanted to minimize his exposure to the blades, given their nature. “Ready?”