Chapter 56. Foundations

“You sure this is the place? Looks like a rundown lot of brainless,” sneered a clumpy-haired rat behind the shadows of a street corner that overlooked the alley where Abe’s zombie accomplices put together the finishing touches on his wall.

“100%, rot breath,” a furred hand reached out and pointed. “My contact assures me he’s in there. Some dumb wight who sold serious treasures about town.”

“He strong then,” another hissed.

“So are we, cretin. Have some respect for the clan.”

“Calm down, the lot of you,” bellowed a rat twice the size of the others, its pure white fur covered in festering wounds and boils that hairs clumped around. “Our source is reliable. It’s a single unaffiliated wight and a few dozen zombies. And he is believed to possess treasures you mangy sewer feeders can’t even dream of.”

A cacophony of excited screeches sounded across the half-dozen rodent humanoids as they drew daggers and short swords.

“So, are you lot ready to become rich?”

********

Undead sat lazily around tables in the dark, hazy room—high off concentrated energy, their gazes half-lidded and drooping.

“Surprise, surprise,” Abe said, planting his boot against the edge of a table at the center of the room.

“Hu, what?” Targa shook from his stupor and wiped his numb face. “Who are–” he narrowed his blinking eyes.

“Forgot me already?”

“You’re that ghoul, the runt from the mission, but—” his throat caught. “A wight… you’ve been busy.”

“So have you, from the looks of it,” Abe grunted, glancing around at the half-naked ghouls that draped their rotted, albeit admittedly generously, feminine shapes across the surrounding lounge and Targa. “Who are these?”

“Just a little fun,” Targa chuckled, flashing his blackened gums and teeth.

“You look a little more financially endowed than I remember you, Targa.”

“What? Haven’t come to sook, have you?” 

Abe raised a brow.

“I don’t know what happened to you back there, and I don’t care,” Targa sneered, leaning forward in the lounge. “But we got what we worked for. If you weren’t around to share in the spoils, that’s on you.”

“What did you work for? You wouldn’t have got a dime if it weren't for me. Now, the way I see it is that you owe me.”

“Do you, now?” Targa growled, moving to stand, but as he did, one of Abe’s tendrils wrapped around his neck.

“You want to see what else I’ve learned since we last met?”

Targa’s eyes peered down at the tendril as he stood frozen. “Fine,” he muttered, lowering himself back onto the lounge. “What is it you want?”

“Only information.”

Targa’s eyes studied him momentarily before nodding to an empty spot on the lounge beside him. 

“Why didn’t you just say so.”

“I want you to understand; I’m not asking for a favor. This is a debt you owe me,” Abe said, tightening the tendril around Targa’s neck.

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha,” Targa grimaced, pulling on the tendril with his hands.

“Good,” Abe said, weakening his grip a little. “Now, you seem like the unsavory type to keep contact with unaffiliated merchants. I want names.”

Targa slapped one of the girls awake and ordered her to write down the names of the merchants as he listed them.

“There, you got what you came for,” he growled, pushing the list toward Abe.

“Good. Now, behave Targa. I wouldn't want to have to make a mess of this place. Until next time,” Abe smiled, releasing his tendril as he rose from the lounge.
“Yeah, next time,” Targa growled beneath his breath as he rubbed his throat—the hint of energy Abe had teased him was undoubtedly noticed, and Targa would have known how easily Abe could have filled his veins with poison.

“Something’s not right,” Abe muttered as he returned to the alley. 

He stilled in the adjoining street, eyeing the slow movement of the zombies putting the last bricks in place. They had never been fast, but their movements were off.

And then he spotted the power signals within. It was hard within the overcrowded city, especially with his deathly orb pulsing away.

“No,” he gritted his teeth and charged forward. They had reached his room.

Charging through the entrance in the wall, he didn’t pause to hear the zombies’ groans or excuses—he didn’t really care, though; he could tell by the energy signals that they wouldn’t have stood a chance against these creatures anyway.

Two rats stood upright at the door to his little shack and turned when they spotted him charging through the alley. 

Abe could tell these creatures were at the same stage as him, but there was nothing special about them.

The dagger-wielding rats barely got a chance to react as Abe’s tendrils shot forth, digging into their exposed flesh and injecting them with poison. Foaming at the mouth, they jerked backward and stumbled to the ground.

“What now, you sewer feeders?” Sneered a voice from within as their bodies sounded against the ground, and a second later, two more rats appeared from within, but Abe had already closed the distance between them.

Greeting them in the doorway, Abe combined his dreamer and deathly energy, flooding it into his limbs and increasing his speed as he darted between them, making swift and deadly slashes across their furred bodies. 

Kicking the bleeding corpses aside, Abe entered. Three more stood within. Two rats were on guard, and another—much bigger than the others–with thick white fur bent over, its clawed fingers only inches from Abe’s stash as it sniffed the air.

“B-b-boss,” one of the rats stammered as Abe’s tendrils shot forth.

“Enough!” The large rat turned, but its eyes widened when it saw its two underlings being dosed with Abe’s toxins, scratching at their faces as their mouths filled with foam. 

“Thieves,” Abe sneered as he turned his gaze at the big rat.

“What, no, this is a misunderstanding,” the rat said, raising its hands defensively.

“Right,” Abe said, and his tendrils shot out toward the big rat, but instead of hitting it, smoke exploded from there where the rat should’ve been. “What now?” his brow curled.

“Slow,” a voice sounded at his back, and through a cloud of smoke that formed behind him came a dagger darting out. 

Abe turned, but he wasn’t quick enough, and the dagger drove into his side, releasing a toxin of its own, and he felt the corrosive substance attacking his blood.

His sword swung around but cut through only smoke as the cloud dissipated—still taking on the form of the rat in its final moments.

“Too easy,” the rat sneered, appearing behind him and stabbing out again.

It wasn’t just the smoke; the rat seemed faster than him. It was time to test another of his new toys, and Abe released a could of the miasmic spores, which suffocatingly filled the small room.

The dagger stabbed into him again, but the staggered rat began to cough, and that second was all it took for Abe’s tendrils to wrap around its limbs. Abe swung around to cut the captured rat, but his sword cut through the smoke again, and limbs held by his tendrils collapsed into a mist.

“Damn you, rat,” Abe grunted, but a cough revealed its location, and Abe was already swinging around to meet it as it materialized, cutting its torso in two with a mist of blood as it appeared to his left.

“Whaa—”

“Your trick got boring,” Abe grunted, but he could feel the assault within his veins and gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. If he hadn’t so many tricks up his own sleeves, this rat likely would have gotten the better of him. But a reflexive sniff was all it took to remind him that growth-inducing brains were on offer.

Wasting no time, Abe cracked into the rat brains and stuffed them down his throat. The healing effect of eating evolutionary brains was almost immediate and soothed the toxins within his veins, and within a couple of minutes, the pain had faded.

He finished off the rest of the rat creatures and was a little surprised that he couldn’t even feel the next step waiting for him. He had felt that next stage after a similar number of brains when he was a ghoul, even if it had taken longer to reach the stage. The fact that he couldn’t now give him pause. Did it just mean that the goal was further and harder to reach, or was he nearing the end of his ability to evolve naturally, and would he need treasures to support further growth?

“Ahh…”

Abe looked up at the zombies gathering around.

“Ss-sorry…”

“It’s fine,” Abe grunted as he straightened. “None of you would have stood a chance anyway. Now get back to work,” he waved. 

Holding a grudge against these weaklings was pointless. A single one of these rats would have made short work of them, and then he’d have no one to build his flimsy wall. The reality was, if he wanted to move around the city without worrying about whatever he left here, he would need some half-competent guards.

“What am I going to do about this mess,” Abe sighed, surveying the bare alley.

He hadn’t come here to build a following. He wanted to return to the domain and ensure everything was fine with Miss Nia, but what choice did he have?

Since he had to wait for his vessel anyway, he may as well make the most of his time here. And besides, he felt he owed his Mistress a debt, anyway. If that thing she bought for him was as powerful as it seemed, he wanted to pay her back for it, and selling these acorns seemed like the most reliable way to achieve that.

But he was going to have to find followers on his own somehow. It wasn’t so much that he held a grudge against Targa, or the Reavers, but their betrayal had left a sour taste in his mouth. It might not be worth making enemies of them, but he certainly couldn’t trust them. In fact, he wasn’t sure there was any living dead within this entire city worth of trust, but the alternative was holding up here until his ship was finished.

Sighing, Abe shook his head. Where on earth would he find reliable minions to do his bidding?

“Mm-master.”

“Huh?” Abe turned to a zombie beside him with a raised brow.

“T-theeese weeereats, they aare clan, they aare manny.”

Tilting his head, Abe thought about the zombie’s groaning words for a moment before they clicked. Had he just made an enemy on this stupid rock of a world?

“Great,” he groaned—so much for keeping a low profile.

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