Caster had been slowly drudging back to his room when he heard the news of Gehrman's return.
He currently resided in a very specific part of Fort Balmuth– the section belonging to the New Workshop.
From far away, it looked like any other part of the Siege Capital, heavily fortified and largely vertical. It was only when one looked deeper did they notice the oddities.
The noise was the first thing people tended to notice, multiple buildings worked similarly to factories, large groups of people would use strange looking tools made out of Nightmare Creature corpses to carve up and process the new corpses brought to them by the 5 Ascended that acted as their powerhouses.
Caster's cohort had not entirely split apart, instead they would leave on missions with 2 or 3, taking on Corrupted creatures or Fallen of higher Ranks. This quality material was allowed (mostly) to return to the New Workshop's outpost, allowing the men and women there to design new weaponry.
Whenever they got a new corpse, a team of Hunters would analyze it, picking apart its biology in an effort to understand its weaknesses. It would then be recorded in an ever growing encyclopedia. Following this, Engineers would take their own data, and then certain teams would come up with proposals on how best to make use of the corpse.
It was a rather macabre display, but to the people living here it was nothing short of mundane. Humans were adaptable creatures, after all, and those who had been brought to Antarctica were the best of what the New Workshop had to offer.
These people had been living by the Red Judge's tenets for a little over 2 years now, and they had grown fond of the ways of their mysterious and horrifying master.
It gave them a sense of superiority. As "Outskirt Rats" they were often seen as inferior, or lesser. Now though, any citizen would know to look at them with wariness, not disgust or contempt.
It was an exhilarating change of pace that motivated each and every one of them to throw themselves into work.
That work included designing Trick Weapons, and then carving the necessary parts from their bank of dead monstrosities.
The focus these days was mostly on bullets and long range weaponry. It was tough going, especially since the Red Judge's designs focused on short range firearms. Still, they did their best to make do with what they had.
The Hunters were also doing well. Most of the Awakened former mercenaries were released as scouts. On occasion, they would be joined by a few mundane Hunters as well. They would travel very carefully, and stick to only picking off the occasional Awakened creature.
It was seen as lunacy by most of the Government, but so far none of them had died. More than a fair share had been grievously injured, and most of the time they would find themselves fleeing from stronger creatures, but the New Workshop had built up a collective kill count that was nothing to scoff at.
Perhaps most astounding were the mundane Hunters, they were equipped with Trick Weapons that were made from Fallen, and sometimes Corrupted creatures, and a good number of them had slain a Nightmare Creature or two. A few of the more skilled ones had a few dozen kills.
When Caster heard the shouting and mayhem, he assumed it was either some Hunters talking about their battles or engineers hemming and hawing of the newest corpse.
It was neither of these though.
"Master Caster!" One of the Hunters called out when they saw him. A lot of these guys had been getting more familiar with him despite his best job to let them know he didn't want anything to do with them.
He would insult them, call them scum, rats, and mongrels, but they would just smile and insult him back.
Since they were being trained by Gehrman, Caster obviously couldn't bring retribution down on them, so they had come to believe that his words were just due to a "prickly personality".
"The Red Judge is back! Sequn said she saw his giant red wings overhead when she and her group were returning from a Hunt!"
Caster looked at the man blankly. It was not uncommon for those of the New Workshop to clamour about Gehrman's return. Though they didn't know the details, Caster's nonchalance at his death combined with the strange mythology they built around "The Red Judge" led them to all be convinced at his return.
Due to Gehrman's own interference, they did not worship him as a god, but they did treat him with reverence and fear one might hold for a deity.
"Oh," Caster said dryly. He gave the man a scathing look and walked off. Very much looking forward to his heavily soundproofed room.
The man's face fell as Caster walked off. Then, another Hunter came up to clap him on the shoulder.
"What did you expect?" the man said. "That guy was probably the first to know. Hell, he probably knew this was gonna happen weeks in advance."
That cheered them up, and Caster scowled as he made his way through the maze of hallways.
Everywhere he went he was met with the same chatter.
He sighed as he opened the door and escaped it all.
Caster had been given the best room since Gehrman was absent. In truth, it was more of an apartment than a room. Packed with his own kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom.
He turned left, to lie down on his bed. It took up a good portion of the small room. The sleeping quarters for Ascended were much more luxurious and larger than those for Awakened, but to Caster it was still paltry. He had imported a larger, and more expensive bed for his quarters.
On the side of that bed, there was a man sitting there, he was holding a small device.
"I heard that you hung on to my communicator for me," Gehrman said. "I appreciate that you didn't just let it freeze and shatter in Falcon Scott. It would have been a pain to get a new one."
Caster blinked, stunned at the casual nature of the return. Then he sighed.
"Get off my bed."
"Good to know you haven't changed."
Gehrman looked up from his communicator, taking in Caster's haggard appearance.
"I already heard about the Winter Beast and got caught up with the command about the situation with the Chain of Nightmares. I hear that you and your compatriots are putting in good work, I'm glad you didn't slack off in my absence."
Caster averted his gaze. Something (that was not quite warmth) filled him. A strange comfort, not for the praise, but simply for his being here. It was one less thing to worry about, he reasoned.
"Things are still escalating, it's good your back. It seems every day there is a new Tyrant or Terror. We'll need you…to…" Caster trailed off, a strange sensation hitting him. "Your Transcended?" He asked the question breathlessly.
He waited for Gehrman to shake his head. Surely this revival just granted him another one of the strange boons granted to him by his Divine Aspect. He had barely been gone for a couple months, he couldn't have completed the dreaded 3rd Nightmare in such a short time.
Of course though, he was still Gehrman.
The man, the Saint, nodded wordlessly.
"Ah," Caster sat down on the opposite side of the bed, his legs suddenly felt very weak. Exhaustion hit him all at once, but his mind was anything but sluggish.
This changed everything. Everything. Gehrman always had a ridiculous amount of influence, but now, he may very well be the third strongest human on earth.
He was no longer just a powerful eccentric, he was the equivalent to a Grand Duke, second only to the great Kings.
Unparalleled.
What will happen to the New Workshop now…what will happen to the Great Clans War? Though Lady Nephis has joined Valor, if Gehrman truly fights on the side of Song it will be a complete one-sided slaughter.
Caster raised his hands to his head, rubbing his temples.
"This…what comes next?" he asked.
Gehrman did not answer for a moment, but then he leaned back a bit.
"Well, first of all, I'll deal with the Chain of Nightmares. I should be able to cover the surrounding kilometers. No one else should die in this senseless mess…I'm going to talk to Wake of Ruin about building air crafts as well, that would help the evacuation tremendously." Gehrman mused casually, as if what he was talking about was obvious.
Meanwhile Caster was spiraling. A sense of dread filling him. It was theoretically amazing that no one else would have to risk their lives, but it would also mean that the crucible of the Chain of Nightmares would stop churning out great warriors.
He felt guilt, surprisingly, for having this thought.
A part of him thought it was logical, Gehrman couldn't babysit all of humanity. They couldn't rely solely on his ability.
…but this disaster was costing hundreds of soldiers every day, and with each Siege Capital that fell, millions faded into death.
The warring ideas hurt his brain and heart with the ferocity they opposed each other with.
He couldn't help but groan at the internal strife.
"Of course, that isn't exactly feasible. It's possible, of course, but the amount of Memories, even Echos that humanity would be losing out on would be a great price. I'm working on an idea to fix that though."
Caster paused his brooding to turn fully and look at Gehrman.
Already he could sense something truly absurd had been cooked up in Gehrman's brain.
"What is it?"
…
The Butcher Block.
An idea so ridiculous that only a madman would think of it. Only madmen would allow the construction of it.
But who would even be capable of saying no to Gehrman at this point?
It would be beneficial if he pulled it off as well, the only issue was the resources and the practicality.
No other Saint could ever come close to pulling off such a thing, indeed this was something that only a Sovereign should have been able to do. And even then it would have been a waste of resources.
To Gehrman though, it was simply the most practical approach.
The concept of the Butcher Block was a simple one. Its essence was a deep pit covered in blades and needles.
Crafted from the large Tyrants, Terrors, and Titans that Gehrman casually hunted. The remaining horrors of Central and Western Antarctica would have their corpses dropped a couple of kilometers outside of Fort Balmuth.
The Butcher Block was dug deep into the ground in a cone shape, three levels adorned it. 100 meters deep and 1 kilometer in square footage, the pits of hell were spread. Grotesque and warped forms were turned into long piercing weapons. What's more, they were carved from Fallen material. This was the largest of the levels. The one for Awakened Nightmare Creatures.
Then, around the center, there was another drop. This was 200 meters deeper than the initial drop, and it was 400 square meters. This level, dimmer still and hidden from the sun, reflecting of the colorful carapace that was lined with the Corrupted blades. This was for the Fallen creatures.
Then, a final pit was carved 500 meters below, a whole 800 meters below the surface of Antarctica.
It was the smallest of the pits, 150 square meters, and this, impossibly, was lined with a smattering of Great materials. Of course, it would be truly absurd for the entire place to be lined with a material that neared the level of godly. The majority of this layer was decorated with the especially hardy or sharp Corrupted creatures. Still, a few spires were of the 5th Rank.
The sheer amount of death that was necessary for its construction was both mind-numbing and horrifying.
Still, even this pit of death was not the end of it.
The Butcher Block was not just a place to gather corpses, it was a place for what was essentially the "farming" of Memories and Echoes.
Powerful crossbows that shot out deadly bolts were built into the walls on the first level, slaughtering Awakened beasts by the dozens.
Firearms, or perhaps more accurately, small cannons lined the walls of the 2nd level, obliterating Fallen.
Finally, for the last level, dark and dreadful, there were simply a few small openings. As of now, only Supreme bullets could kill Corrupted creatures. And that was only for creatures who were on death's door, and of a lower class.
Therefore, only Ascended, with particularly powerful Memories were allowed down on that level. Of course, Saints were granted clearance as well, but none of them would deign to partake in such a thing.
Hell, there were even some Masters who refused to partake.
That didn't matter to Gehrman though, he just needed enough people to keep the whole Butcher Block up and running.
This place quickly became the new home of the New Workshop, they vacated their area in Siege Capital, opting to live deep underground at the Butcher Block. The former people of the Outskirts got a certain amount of glee at seeing the befuddlement and fear of the citizens who beheld this abomination of a system.
Each person played a part, naturally killing happened around the clock, but maintenance had to be upheld in order to keep the pit from filling up. Naturally they also had to scavenge the corpses as well.
Each of the blades, spears, and other sharp ends had the ability to retract into the floor. This would leave the lifeless cadavers free for the taking. In order to ensure maximum safety, Gehrman had built something akin to a drain from the ocean itself. The pipes were protected with several powerful grates, making sure only water made its way through.
Naturally, these were also constructed of Nightmare Creatures carapaces, and thus were able to keep out the creatures who might have noticed the shift in the sea near the beaches.
A loud and creaking mechanism would arise after the blades fell, and a torrent of water would be released. The corpses were pushed to the walls, and then into a separate pit that allowed the workers to start carving up the corpses.
It took a lot of people to keep this running. Such complicated engineering needed constant upkeep, especially since it had to rely on gears and kinetics instead of electricity and technology.
A group of hundreds of Engineers were on standby to make sure that operations ran smoothly.
The Hunters would take a variety of jobs. The Awakened Mercenaries and a few Government Awakened had to be in charge of the crossbows and firearms, for if they landed the final blow, they had a chance to receive a Memory or Echo.
This was the exploit that Gehrman was abusing. It did not matter who dealt the most damage to a Nightmare Creature, whatever managed to be the final thing that pushed it over the edge and into death would be considered the killer.
If the Nightmare Spell was an artificial intelligence, perhaps it would have noticed this loophole, but despite its actions, it was a set system.
It had reacted to Paleblood and made countermeasures because that was a part of its "programming". It did not adapt, instead relying on a seemingly infinite supply of data to create Nightmares, Memories, and Echos.
In other words, as long as Gehrman did not kill the Nightmare Creatures on impact, the scenario ended up being no different than if a group of Awakened flawlessly contained a Gate, suffering no injuries or casualties.
This would be impossible for anyone else, but Gehrman's new Transcended Form was a lot more powerful than he had initially realized.
For one, he had overcome a rather annoying limitation that had been bothering him ever since he was a Sleeper– containing and saving blood.
The [Portable Blood Imbiber] had been a great Memory, but as time went on and Gehrman worked on a larger and larger scale it became clear it was woefully inept at storing a proper amount of blood.
He had circumnavigated this somewhat with the giant heated tubs he had the Government make for him when he was a Master, however he now had a much better method.
Gehrman ran into an issue a little while back when he realized he didn't have much of a method to imbibe blood in his Transcended form. Besides the tentacles that floated eerily about his form, there was no place to make a hole and suck the blood in.
As it turned out though, this was not an issue.
The hundreds of tentacles could indeed suck up blood. Simply by pushing the blood into them, the black, slimy things absorbed it. What shocked Gehrman more than this though, was that he did not feel a rush of Madness nor any new Blood Fragments.
The creature was of the Corrupted Rank, so it should have given him a singular Blood Fragment, and yet the counter did not change.
This was because the tentacle did not act like a part of his circulatory system, but as a secondary back up.
Each and every one of them was a storage device. It allowed Gehrman to hold a simply ridiculous amount of blood within him. A single tentacle could hold double the amount of blood that the [Portable Blood Imbiber] could.
He did the math, and if he filled each and everyone with blood, he would have enough to coat the entire surface of Falcon Scott (walls, buildings, and all) with a sheet of blood.
It was an absurd amount.
Furthermore, actually imbibing it in this form was also simple. Gone were the days that Gehrman had to forcefully push the blood into open wounds or (in desperate situations) down his throat.
His bony body held similar properties to the tentacles in that simply touching them to blood would cause it to enter his system. This time though, it would be truly "consumed" and grant him the Blood Fragments he required.
Gehrman figured this out during the construction.
Now that he didn't have to sleep at all, 24 hours of his day was spent tearing apart the ground, digging tunnels, and lining pipes. The brains of Old Gehrman, Johann, and Dorian, were largely interchangeable with what they could do, and he found that applying some Dissociation to himself helped with their parallel processing.
The cacophony of disparate voices that made up one of his minds, along with the mind of the Orphan, spent their efforts seeking out and killing Nightmare Creatures.
It was a truly horrifying image.
Above the clouds, in the light of the day ceaselessly reflected off the abhorrent form of the [Infant Great One] all around it, hundreds of tendrils of blood seeped out of it, becoming limbs, tools, and weapons. Their reach covered several kilometers, and even from the walls of Fort Balmuth the shadows of the countless pillars of blood could be seen.
Like an omen from hell itself.
Before Gherman started to add the blades and spears that would cover the entirety of the Butcher Block though, he decided it was high time to start planting the seeds for the next step of the New Workshop.