Chapter 39: The Iron King

Chapter 39: The Iron King

The Derro facility had fallen into a state of disrepair.

An overwhelming stench of putrefaction went hand in hand with the smell of alchemical reagents. The sprawling chambers of metals had grown dark and unwelcoming, as strange crystal lamps flickered above the groups heads. The ceiling, adapted for the dwarf-like Derros rather than taller humans, was low enough that Valdemars hair grazed against it. The sorcerer couldnt help but feel a sense of claustrophobic unease as he followed Marianne through narrow corridors.

What happened here? Valdemar wondered. Half the pipes running along the metal walls were leaking either steam or oil. Shattered pylons laid broken on the ground next to dried residues of alien, unknowable origin.

And the brown traces on the floor werent rust, but dried blood.

The door closed behind us, Marianne warned ahead of him. She had put her revolver back around her belt, keeping a hand free. I heard it in the distance.

I am disappointed by the absence of a welcoming committee, Lord Och mused at the groups back. I expected at least one ambush or a trap, if only for protocols sake.

Valdemar noticed that Ktulu was growing agitated in his bag and the Haunter disguised as his shadow flickered. They sensed something wrong in the vicinity, a force that startled them. Someones watching us, the sorcerer muttered under his breath.

Not us, Marianne warned. The glass eyes are everywhere, hidden in the dark or so small you cannot see them but theyre only staring at you, Valdemar.

The old Valdemar would have been disturbed, but by now he had grown numb to such things. What does that say about me? He wondered. Is it paranoia if everyone is out to get you?

The corridor led them to a dark chamber larger than any other before, and the stench of mold joined that of putrefaction. Unlike the previous areas, this place had a higher ceiling adapted to a humans size. One look was enough to tell Valdemar the horrifying reason.

Broken glass devices provided what little glow illuminated the laboratory. Oil dripped from the ceiling, the drops hitting the cold metal floor with a ticking sound. Preserved organ samples, from spleens to blackened hearts, were lined up on a metal table covered in a layer of infectious mold.

And along the walls were the donors.

The sight almost made Valdemar vomit. A dozen naked humans, both men and women, had been impaled on biomechanical spikes. The disgusting contraptions had skewered them like pieces of meat on a food stand, piercing through their ass and erupting from their open mouth. Cables connected their exposed skulls to the devices, while the contents of their rib cages were left exposed. Fungal growth had devoured most of their insides, leaving only dead husks behind.

The four Derros surgeons responsible for this horror show werent in a better shape. Their dismembered corpses had been scattered around the room. One had been cleaved in half at the waist, the torso and legs piled up on a human corpse like a twisted fish skewer. Another had been hit so hard in the chest that the blow turned the ribs and organs to a bloody soup. Only one was relatively intact, his throat slashed and eyes removed.

And the cherry on top of the disastrous sight, an iron golems remains sat in a corner, the brain powering it splattered against a closed metal door.

What is this Marianne covered her mouth as her eyes looked at the ghastly spectacle. Valdemar pitied her. He already found the scene disturbing and horrifying, but his partners enhanced sight allowed her to see every gory detail. What

Mmm. Lord Och alone didnt seem concerned as he examined the impaler spikes more closely. This is a new design.

Even though he had seen worse at the bottom of Lord Bethors tower, the scene disturbed Valdemar. It wasnt the sight of rotten meat and dismembered corpses that bothered him, but the implications of the scene. The massacre reeked of a cold-blooded, intellectual brutality; of a clinical sadism laced with an odious kind of curiosity.

It hadnt been enough to kill.

The victims had to suffer first.

Are you alright? Valdemar asked Marianne with concern upon seeing her unease.

Its No, Valdemar, Im not alright. She shook her head, her fingers tightening her grip on her rapier. An inquisitor told me once that he turned undead because the job never got easier. I understand what he meant now.

And he had made the right choice, Lord Och commented with cold nonchalance. Undeath teaches emotional distance.

Ignoring the Dark Lord, Valdemar put a hand on Mariannes shoulder. Maybe you could cast an illusion on yourself, he suggested, trying to help. Weaken your enhanced senses, filter out the horror.

I appreciate the thought, but I cant. Marianne gently removed his hand and tried to smile. I cant lower my guard in this place. Your life, and mine, depend on it.

Shes brave, Valdemar thought as he answered with a nod. Lets figure out what happened before moving on then, he said. Whatever killed these Derros might still be around.

Most wise, my apprentice. Lord Och waved a hand at Valdemar. Come over here.

While Marianne moved to study the Derro corpses, Valdemar joined his teacher in examining the biomechanical spikes. On closer look, the sorcerer noticed that the cables piercing through the victims skulls interconnected with the dead gray matter inside.

I do not have your experience with derrotech, Lord Och admitted, but I have an inkling of this devices purpose. What do you think?

Its a neural connection device, Valdemar identified thanks to his knowledge of biomancy and derrotech. Its the same system that allows the Derros to put brains in jars or command golems from afar.

But why connect a dying man to a torture device? To record his agony?

Look at these, Marianne said as she pointed at the most well-preserved of the Derro corpses. Her gloved hand trailed against the slashed throat and then the empty eye-sockets. While the lethal wounds were sloppy, the eyes were extracted with methodical, surgical precision. Some of them pre-mortem.

Valdemar shivered at the implications. Even though he hated Derros after seeing their ghastly work in Astaphanos, he didnt wish such a fate on anyone. What purpose would it serve to harvest the eyes before death? If that was the goal, killing the Derros first would have prevented a struggle.

You forget the simplest explanation, Lord Och said with a flat tone. That there was no practical purpose but self-gratification.

These murders had been carried out not out of a need for survival, but out of sadism.

Did they do it to themselves? Valdemar asked as he glared at the Derros remains. They grow bored of torturing our kind and moved on to attack each other?

No, Lord Och replied as he pointed a finger in the broken golems direction. This machine was physically shoved against a wall. I have yet to see a Derro with the strength to do that. Only a warbeast or a powerful golem could have achieved such a feat.

Marianne tensed up. One of their experiments escaped?

Perhaps, Young Marianne. The surgical operation you noticed implies a higher intelligence than a savage beast, so we must remain on our guard. Lord Och stroked his chin. Have we been invited for cleanup duty, I wonder?

Or the figure on the projector we saw was the creature responsible for the slaughter, Valdemar pointed out.

No, it wasnt. Lord Och chuckled. Though it was vague, I recognized the body shape. That kind of wasted effort would be unusual for him.

Valdemar examined his master. He had grown to know the lich over the last few months, and he knew very well how little Lord Och cared about others.

To a Dark Lord, there was only one Derro worthy of remembrance.

But why would he be here, in a destroyed facility?

Kthulhu. Valdemar tensed up, as he heard his familiar grumble in the bag. Fagthna.

Valdemar was about to ask his partner what was up, before sensing something in the air. So did Marianne, who immediately looked around. A tension spread through the room, an invisible jolt coursing through the steel.

Lightning, Marianne whispered. I sense electricity in the air.

Ktulhulu! By now, Ktulu was growing downright panicked.

We have to go, Valdemar warned as he looked for the exit. Quickly!

Its not magic, Lord Och said with a hint of curiosity. I wonder if

When he looked at Blutgang, his Psychic Sight sent him the same feedback as the broken golem outside. He didnt sense any blood coursing through the Derros veins, or any trace of flesh for that matter. Even the lifelike eyes were made of colored glass.

Otto Blutgangs smirk turned predatory as he raised his left hand over his face. His fingers sunk into his foreheads skin and swiftly tore it down. Half of a mask fell to the ground.

I-I-Is that better now? the Derro King asked as he stuttered again. Half his face covered in false skin; the other in metal bones and wires. Do you feel more com-comfortable?

As Valdemar had guessed, this body was just a proxy, a mechanical puppet commanded from afar. As for how

Ktulu had fallen silent in his back and glared at the Derro King with all six of his eyes. Whatever Otto Blutgang had become, Valdemars familiar considered it as threatening as a Dark Lord.

Where are my companions? Valdemar asked bluntly as he prepared to cast an offensive spell if he didnt like the answer. Lord Och would be fine thanks to his immortality, but he couldnt say the same for Marianne. What have you done with them?

N-n-nothing. I care n-n-not for them. They are s-s-safe for now.

A little blood dripped from Valdemars fingers, ready to lash out. Are you threatening me?

Must I? The Derro King looked at Valdemar with what could pass for puzzlement. We are si-si-similar beings whose interests align, anomaly.

Similar beings?

What are you? Valdemar asked. Not a Derro anymore, from what I can gather.

My greatest desire was to increase the intellectual capacity of my species. Unfortunately, the p-p-percentage of intellects worthy of preservation is pitifully low. All this neural processing power, wasted on vacuous personalities and base animal instincts. Rather than educate my countrymen, upgrading their mental faculties through overwriting seemed a more sensible solution.

You wanted to overwrite the minds of your compatriots with your own? Valdemar asked while staring at this narcissistic king in disbelief.

Anomaly, the only way to save your species from idiocy-induced extinction is to practice intellectual eugenics. Your society will be way more optimi-mi-mized once you have weeded out weaker minds and repurposed their wasted gray matter with a su-su-superior personality matrix.

The chilling thing was that he believed every word he spoke. Valdemar could tell from his self-righteous, matter-of-fact tone. His sheer egomania made the Dark Lords look humble.

But even the plasticity of a normal Derro brain could not support my overflow-owing intellect, Otto Blutgang explained. They could support spe-specialized thrall personalities, but a single nervous system was not en-nough for me

The Derros probably couldnt handle an ego that large. He still brainwashed his entire race, Valdemar thought. And all of this sounds pre-planned.

After countless iterations, I haavee transcendeddd A burst of electricity briefly surged from Ottos facial wires. I have transcended the limits of the cerebral prison and become a being of p-p-pure intellect. A stream of thoughts and mathematics, the perfect complexity of a Godmind.

The Derro King had integrated his soul into his own machinery. Not quite a lich, not quite undead. A genius loci of wires and lightning, a self-replicating mind inhabiting both flesh and steel.

And then the full scale of the Derro Kings ambition became clear to Valdemar, as he remembered his trip in the Outer Darkness and the invasive machinery within.

You want to overwrite Ialdaboath, the sorcerer guessed, hardly believing his own words. To replace its mind with your own. To become a Godmind.

Valdemar expected the Derro King to reply with a flat yes, but the answer was somehow even more chilling.

Possible, but infeasible. I have dis-discarded this possibility in favor of crea-creating my own improved, circuitry-based vessel.

Otto Blutgang wasnt trying to replace Ialdabaoth. He wanted to become a better version, one made of wires and steel rather than flesh and blood.

We were walking inside his bloodstream, Valdemar realized. Inside veins of metal and iron innards.

Thi-i-is a long-term objective, fraught with peril, Otto Blutgang said. In the meantime, the portal project must continue. I need you to sta-stabilize it.

So you may send a copy of yourself out there in case Ialdabaoth wakes up before you can take over the world? Valdemar glared at this maniac. How did you know I would come here? Have you been spying on me?

The Derro King locked eyes with his guest.

I have been watching your line since be-be-before you were even born, he said, his eyes shining with mania. D-d-do you think your grandfather and his p-p-platoon could have made their way to your p-p-pathetic civilization without my permission?

Valdemar flinched, his blood boiling.

My grandfather didnt remember, the sorcerer said, his voice laced with burning rage. I thought it was the shock of crossing worlds, but it was you. You erased his memories of his abduction!

Your ex-existence was unplanned, anomaly, but I f-f-followed your genetic lineages progress for research, Otto replied, his wires wriggling like rotting worms. I calculated a sev-seventy-three percent chance that you would investigate this portal and your origins. I l-l-laid the groundwork for your arrival. No-o-ow we will help each other.

Why would I help you? Valdemar hissed through his teeth. Its not just about the portal, isnt it? Its too much work to bring me here just to help you open a door back to your species home.

If you do not help me, your ov-ovulation machine will die.

The blood dripping from Valdemars hands turned into small, boiling tentacles.

Have I misunderstood? From your do-do-dopamine ratio, I assumed she was distracting you with her womanly pheromones. Be-between us, the thought of being seduced by a female neocortex fills me with dis-disgust. Mental self-duplication is a better way of intellectual reproducti

Tendrils of blood erupted from Valdemars hands and impaled the psychotic Derro King against his own throne. The crystalized tips of these tentacles pierced through the wires underneath Otto Blutgangs suit and spread inside its artificial avatar, keeping it tightly restrained.

Where is she? Valdemar hissed. Speak or Ill scrap you.

What would it change? The Derro King sounded supremely unimpressed. Copies of my con-consciousness are s-s-spread all over my facilities. No-no-nothing but the complete era-ra-radication of Derro civilization will des-s-s-stroy me.

Valdemar brought the Derro kings face closer to his own, before channeling his best impersonation of Lord Bethor. That can be arranged.

Though it disgusted him to say it, Valdemar called upon his ancestry.

I am the Red Prince, the one who can wake up Ialdabaoth and to whom the Qlippoths answer, he said. Do you truly wish to challenge me, you piece of stuttering junk?

I estimate a three per-percent ratio of probabilities that you will go that far. It is low.

But it isnt zero. Valdemars tendrils tightened their grip and bent the Derros metal bones. You have enslaved your own race. Do you think I will hesitate to do everything in my power to utterly destroy you if you cross me?

Otto Blutgang considered the threat, and suddenly turned more cooperative.

I have sought to contact a higher in-in-intelligence to perfect the portal, he admitted. But the subject turned out to be volatile. I had to quarantine the guest in the facility, but I have been incapable of getting rid of it without B-Blood magic. With your assistance, I can s-s-send it back and sta-stabilize the portal.

Valdemar frowned as he read between the lines. First rule of summoning, never call what you cannot put down. What did you summon?

In response, Otto Blutgang looked at the portal and Valdemar understood.

He had contacted the only kind of creature capable of helping with portal technology.

The ones that invented it in the first place.