One month later, Bitz sat in a classroom. The sun just started to peak over the horizon, but he had been up for a few hours.
He was not too pleased about his current predicament.
Though he knew that learning to read and write was important, he felt it was entirely too demeaning for someone like him.
He was a Sleeper after all!
It was something he had fantasized about for a long time. Like any other kid from the Outskirts, he had known that the Nightmare Spell was a death sentence, but they still imagined what it would be like after surviving it and receiving superpowers.
They would go to the Awakened Academy, grow strong, make powerful friends, and best of all, become a citizen!
…but he was still in the New Workshop.
And he was still being worked to the damn bone.
That in itself wasn't the problem.
Though it was April, and he had 8 months to become as prepared as possible for traveling the Dream Realm he was still stuck studying mundane crap. At the very least he thought he should learn the runic language of the Spell!
But no!
He was still learning Government Standard language…along with a whole slew of other subjects. He would study for 5 hours a day on basic knowledge.
Granted, all of this knowledge had a practical application. The Red Judge's whole schtick was efficiency and obsession on Hunting.
These classes were essentially exercises for the developing mind. All the younger people in the New Workshop had to take them. The adults were in separate, but similar classes that were more specialized on whatever path they wanted to follow.
For a while people had stuck to safe things like medicine, cleaning, or teaching.
Then a while ago Oskar met up with the Red Judge.
No one knew exactly what transpired, and rumors were abundant. Each of them were absurd from Bitz's point of view, but he understood why people were in shambles.
That was because Oskar had thrown his full support behind the Red Judge. It wasn't just a few deficient stragglers that he sent to the New Workshop, but his entire following. Leaders from every aspect of his business including drug dealers, prostitution schemes, mercenary work, and smuggling were all suddenly thrown into new, dangerous roles.
Some trained to be engineers, manufacturing and designing The Red Judge's unique "Trick Weapons."
But the majority of them turned to become Hunters.
The New Workshop exploded. The thousand or so residents turned to over a hundred thousand overnight. And people kept pouring in.
The Red Judge was unable to keep up, initially. He spent every hour for an entire week creating new buildings and connecting it to the existing infrastructure. And even then, he ended up delegating some work to Oskar's people.
The school where Bitz currently sat inside was renamed Maria Academy.
Several other institutions received odd names that seemed completely random.
For those who were in specific courses, they did not attend Academy's, instead they reported to colleges.
These were not just colleges in name only. Just like the grand centers of academia in the city, a few blocks would be completely overhauled to fit the needs of a specific field. Oto's Engineering College, Ludwig's Hunting College, and so on.
The people following these paths would live in the standard apartments that were in the initial apartment building.
Plumbing, air conditioning, and a bed for each resident.
So long as classes were attended and genuine work was put into it, you would eat for free as well.
The interim system used relied on instructors updating each individual's "food card" through some fancy city tech.
Each person had one of these cards, and it also acted as identification.
Now that I think about it…this place has really become a whole city.
A self-sustaining, fully functioning city.
Of course, this impossibility was only because The Red Judge was the one ruling over it. His rule was a simple, but brutal one.
He laid out the Government's laws in plain words and made it clear that there was a no tolerance policy for those that did not follow their rules.
If someone committed a crime, then they were forced to leave the New Workshop. If they tried to come back…well it wasn't clear what exactly would happen.
But after the first offender tried to steal, he was suddenly thrown to the ground by red chains.
When he tried to come back during the night a gallon of blood along with burn marks stained the cobbled street.
Those who heard the commotion and saw what had occurred used vague language that implied the criminal was smote with divine prejudice.
This had occurred several other times. People kept incorrectly assuming that The Red Judge was unable to keep track of all the happenings in the New Workshop.
But there were always a few new stains on different streets and alleys. The foul stench of charred flesh remained a horrifying reminder that they did not live here out of charity, but instead because The Red Judge felt the urge to create Hunters out of them.
The reverence people had when they spoke about him was…unnerving.
He was something between a god and a devil to the people living here. An all-seeing and all-powerful force of authority.
This image was only reinforced when the Ascended came flying overhead with giant red wings. He no longer was trailed by a river of the red liquid as he kept a large amount of it stored in giant tubs.
It was an open secret that the red liquid was the blood of Nightmare Creatures.
It also seemed he constantly collected corpses of Nightmare Creatures as well. Sometimes they would be shipped to him via a Government vessel, on occasion though he would carry gigantic, mutilated flesh back with him.
…it was the little things like that which made him seem like an eldritch abomination.
He hasn't been around today though, usually we would have seen, or rather heard, him take off to slaughter some poor Nightmare Creatures. Where is he?
…
Gehrman took a deep breath as he fell into what looked to be a bottomless hole.
He had carved out a giant hole near the main castle of his Citadel, it led directly to the place he had officially dubbed The Sanctum.
Eventually he reached the bottom. It, unlike the rest of the tough stone and dirt of his Citadel, was impossible to break. He was forced to make the fall land right in front of the giant, circular door.
Fortunately, this meant that it would remain totally secluded and secure while he was inside.
The golden lines illuminated the dim room, giving it the same reverence that it likely had thousands of years ago.
It had a calming effect on him, which was good since he would need it to accomplish what he was about to do.
In a flash of pale sparks, the [Portable Blood Imbiber] appeared.
Though the Ascended Memory was outclassed by most of his prey, it was still useful. It couldn't quite pierce the corpse of Corrupted creatures above the Class of Monster, so Gehrman had to dig out a hole for the Memory to suck out the blood.
It was not terribly efficient, but it was still the best way he had for storing blood.
This was very necessary, as over the past few months he had a strict diet of only 10 Blood Fragments worth of blood a day. This was in order to balance his sanity to where he could always work on projects in the New Workshop.
During any given Gate Crisis, he might stumble upon any number of creatures. During Gates of the 2nd Rank all he had to deal with was a few Fallen creatures. He might not get 10 Blood Fragments from those encounters, and this was by far the vast majority of Gates he dealt with. But he would also travel far in order to reach 3rd Rank Gates.
Because they always had a few dozen Fallen creatures and a couple Corrupted creatures. So almost always offered over 40 Blood Fragments.
He had to stretch out his supply of high Rank blood in order to keep up his diet.
And though it was annoying, it was undoubtedly working.
The New Workshop was growing at an explosive rate.
And Gehrman's consistent effort finally rewarded him with what he had once lost.
His 7th Soul Core.
The Titan Core.
Blood Fragments: [5,998/6,000]
He had the last Fragments in his hand now, the Blood Vial gleaming with the foul remnants of a Corrupted Demon.
"No reason to hesitate I guess. I already know the Truth of the 6th core."
Still, he couldn't shake off a feeling of apprehension. This was his first time gaining a new core since the end of his 2nd Nightmare.
The trauma from that experience still hadn't left him. It probably never would.
And yet he had to move forward.
Having 7 Soul Cores would give him another boost in Essence, possibly putting him near the reserves of a Transcendent.
If he wanted to respond to more Gate Crises, he needed more Essence. It didn't take a lot to sustain wings and throw his body forward into supersonic flight, but it added up over the several hours he spent in the air.
Besides, it would also give him a comprehensive physical boost.
Exhaling through his nostrils, Gehrman stood in perfect stillness..then he descended into his Soul Sea.
The landscape was a bit different than it had been a month ago.
Several trees had been cut down and some of the garden had been culled. It was odd to say, but Gehrman had been terraforming his Soul as of late. In order to optimize his new abilities, he needed as many materials as he could to create Trick Weapons. Wood, corpses, and bone could only go so far.
He needed other materials, other elements, in order to make the truly special Trick Weapons.
So he traveled deep into the forest, scavenging for different plants, sap from trees, and of course, beasts.
But none of that mattered at the moment.
Gehrman started to leisurely walk to the edge of the facsimile of the Hunter's Dream.
Out on the still ocean of quiet, dirty blood.
Once he got there he raised his gaze. He looked at the six moons dominating his Soul.
Expressionless, he allowed his physical form to plunge the needle of the [Portable Blood Imbiber] into his thigh.
Instantly, he felt a fracture. Like a singular crack in a plane of glass his mind strained to hold back the tidal wave of sensations. Thousands of Blood Fragments whirled through his Soul. A storm of them filling the twisted, singular sixth moon. That Soul Core was malformed in a way where the entire thing was focused on a single point.
It was unstable, but it was also singularly powerful.
…
In the beginning there was chaos, Frenzy.
Then came a thought, and from that thought Dissociation.
From that Dissociation came Agony, for difference bred pain.
But from that difference came Bliss as well. Separate from Agony there was joy.
With this distinction came the need for Control. To exist and force others to exist as one wished.
This desire grew and grew until it became something else.
"Obsession."
Gehrman's Soul Sea shook violently.
Madness in its many forms splintered and reformed into ordered chaos.
Then, the storm of Blood Fragments shot upward cavorting and dancing with mad glee. It coalesced into something new.
Splitting the six Soul Cores, the six Blood Moons, formed one final celestial sphere.
But it wasn't quite correct to refer to it as a Blood Moon.
Even in its nascent form barley resembled a moon.
An Event Horizon, twisting with the absence of all things, shimmered around Gehrman's seventh Soul Core.
It was akin to a black hole, but instead of the center distortion being a lack of all things, and thus perceived as black, an impossible blood red vibrated throughout the thing.
It thrummed with power.
The power of a Titan.