The Great Core's Paradox

The Golem froze.

Mother prodded at him again and again, commanding him to move and fight and find that taste again. It made her happy. It should have made him happy.

He didn’t move, even if a large part of him wanted to obey. His tendrils jerked and jolted about in fits and starts, and his form began to collapse under the strain. Bits of mud oozed off its surface like a tiny rockfall, each little piece pulling at another as it tumbled down. He let them fall, ignoring the way that it made him feel weak and vulnerable to lose the strength that came with his form. The Core that had taken the place of his heart drooped alongside it, beginning to fall towards the ground as he fell apart. His insides bared themselves to the air, Core-heart and ever-present tendrils both defenseless.

Even when he did, his kin never appeared; they were already gone.

Just like the Creator.

Mother roared within his mind, pushing against the lethargic horror that waged its own war against her; that sense that said everything that could go wrong had, and there was no use even moving anymore. No use obeying, even when so many parts of him were desperate to. His tendrils twitched and twirled in tiny motions as those parts tried their best to obey while others fought against them in equal measure, the two conflicting forces keeping The Golem’s body locked in place.

He laid there for a long time; long enough for the mud to cake and harden, coating itself in a brittle shell. Occasionally, one of his tendrils would inadvertently cut a path through the shell’s surface in their short travels, sinking in and out of its frail edges to taste at the gooey stone inside.

The Golem hardly noticed, still caught on the flavor of chalk and stone and something else - kin.

Still caught on the flavor of something worse - Creator.

Still horrified at his betrayal.

Mother’s roars had long since dimmed, her attention moved elsewhere; a few whispers still slipped through, the occasional urging to obey her previous commands, but only a few. He didn’t know what to think of that. Mother’s attention made him happy; it meant that he was worthy of it. Why was she all but gone now?

And why did that make him happy?

Before he could shift his defenses, the incoming root smashed into his clay-form with the strength of a giant; the feeling wasn’t quite pain, closer to the sensation of hard-caked mud cracking on the edges of his form. Noticeable, but not actually painful. More of a light itch or vibration; enough to know that something was happening, but not enough to be crippled by it.

When that light itch spread across his whole form, it was a little more maddening.

His clay-form shattered into pieces. The root kept pressing down, only held away from his Core-heart by the broken pieces that rested above it. His tendrils reached down, slipping between the cracks of his shattered form, already working to rebuild what was lost.

[INSTRUCTION].

Mother whispered in his mind, quieter than before, and The Golem obeyed. His Core began to wobble as the ground below grew muddy, each touch of his tendrils softening the stone.

Sometimes it was just easier to obey.

After all, Mother knew best.

Something was coming. The Golem could hear the plop and plod of rotting meat-feet inching closer little by little, a steady tread through the cave that was once his home. With his Core pressed against the ground and buried in the mud, it was difficult to see what. The mud that pressed itself around him wasn’t part of him anymore; he couldn’t see through it any more than he could see through solid stone.

It came closer, and Mother’s voice came with it. Her whispers grew a little louder, changing from what they were before. They didn’t tell him to obey anymore. Instead, they just told him that he would obey.

She seemed happy about that.

The Golem wasn’t sure that he was. It had felt so good to listen to Mother, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Ever since her voice had appeared in his mind, he had possessed true purpose.

But that purpose had…been wrong. Even after everything that happened, the thought was a difficult one to even process; other thoughts told him differently. Mother was Mother. Obeying her was right. So why was something wrong?

Mother had told him to consume his Creator. She had urged him to swallow his kin. That was wrong; he knew it was, more than able to remember the revolting taste of his betrayal.

But Mother couldn’t be wrong. Mother knew best. But Mother was wrong.

The Golem felt caught between the two conflicting thoughts, each one seeming just as true as the other. He knew they weren’t. One was wrong. It had to be.

He twitched again as the sounds of meat-feet came closer, but only barely. His tendrils were still locked in place by his conflicting urges fighting against one another, his Core still stuck in the mud that had sloughed from his form.contemporary romance

There was a buzzing, and then a great many somethings fell on top of him, pressing against his Core-heart and - more importantly - his bundled tendrils. Like every other living thing that The Golem’s tendrils had touched, they started to dissolve. The process was horribly slow, [Slime’s Gluttony V] not even close to powerful enough to devour them outright. The masses caught within his tendrils hardly even moved as they dissolved, though he knew that they should have been able to. The Golem hadn’t trapped them within his form.

Still, they laid there and allowed themselves to be devoured. Frozen in place as he was, The Golem had even less of a choice.

They tasted like rot.

Experience Gained!

Level 1 Blood of Tiamat Consumed.

Transferred to Core.

Progress Towards Next Upgrade: 1/20.

…

Experience Gained!

Level 2 Blood of Tiamat Consumed.

Transferred to Core.

Progress Towards Next Upgrade: 20/20.

Blooded Trait: [Chains Of The Creator III] Increased.

[Chains Of The Creator IV] Acquired.

Progress Towards Next Upgrade: 0/40.

…

Experience Gained!

Level 2 Blood of Tiamat Consumed.

Transferred to Core.

Progress Towards Next Upgrade: 1/40.

…

Experience Gained!

Level 3 Blood of Tiamat Consumed.

Transferred to Core.

Progress Towards Next Upgrade: 40/40.

Blooded Trait: [Chains Of The Creator IV] Increased.

[Chains Of The Creator V] Acquired.

Progress Towards Next Upgrade: 0/80.

By the time that the last of the rot had dissolved, the world seemed clear again. Starting to pull free from the lethargy and horror that clung to him like sucking muck, The Golem pushed the surrounding mud away with a twist of his tendrils. Mother whispered her approval, the sounds of her happiness making him happy, as he moved to follow her commands at last. There was no reason not to.

He didn’t know why he had needed to eat Creator and kin, but it didn’t really matter anymore.

Mother knew best.

A bed of broken shards was pulverized in an instant, the already brittle material easily shattered by repeated use of [Tremor Touch]. The ability cast a series of vibrations through the fragments, growing in strength until the pieces burst. A plume of stone-dust flew upwards, clouding the air.

The Golem let his Core sink down, dropping into the mud below. The moment that he touched down, [Clay Crucible] forced the mud immediately surrounding his Core to harden, only for it to be smashed again by another cast of [Tremor Touch]. The combination left a hole only large enough for his Core-heart and bundled tendrils to pass through, letting him drop down even further below the surface.

The root, far too large to follow, was left behind. The abandoned enemy smashed itself against the ground above, only the cushion of the mud stopping the nearby ground from growing fractures.

It wouldn’t have been enough to kill The Golem, not really. In his before-form, he had been vulnerable; the shard-heart that had once been the source of his tendrils could have easily been shattered. Ever since Ascending, becoming Golem rather than Slime, that vulnerability had been lost. His Core-heart, just like the Core that formed it, was all but indestructible.

His tendrils, however, weren’t quite as sturdy. At best, he could shift them around so that they hid behind the protection of his Core. If they were damaged enough, The Golem wouldn’t be able to reform his mud-form or clay-form until they regrew. In the meantime, he would be defenseless.

Rather than wait for that to happen, The Golem followed Mother’s advice: he fled. [Sodden Earth] softened the path. [Clay Crucible] forced it to harden again, more brittle than before. [Tremor Touch] shattered it with hardly any trouble at all, and his Core fled further.

Then, when he had the space that he needed, he started to take on a new form. Mother whispered [INSTRUCTION] after [INSTRUCTION], guiding The Golem through the process.

His tendrils stretched out, pressing against the walls of stone that hugged his Core. Stone became mud became stone again, forming thick plates and heavy ridges. One layered over another, again and again as his defenses grew. The Golem’s form lengthened, stretching out like a giant tendril until it found its end at a dangerously spiked tail. In the other direction, a head grew, its draconian maw filled with serrated fangs and terrible spikes. Powerful legs sprouted from his underside, thick enough to carry his new form’s massive weight, and a set of wings burst from his back.

The earth began to shake and tremble.

He broke the surface with a roar like rumbling stone.

done.co