Training the Anoxe Clan

It has been a few weeks since Yorlee surrendered the capital to me. He now spends most of his time assisting Emo as his personal assistant and training the military fighting force. I estimate that we will have around 300k soldiers once the training is complete. The process of turning hunters and gatherers into a proper war-fighting force is slow-going. Emo's help has proven to be invaluable, with suggestions for a temporary restructuring of our forces to focus on training. We have temporarily moved my trusted Guardsmen into leadership roles to assist in the training of the new soldiers. Emo has also suggested adding additional training once they have grasped the basics, to improve their proficiency within their designated areas of operation. These suggestions have already improved and will continue to enhance the lethality of our fighting forces.

The forges stay lit night and day, continuously producing armor and weapons. The quality of these weapons and armor has vastly improved due to the advanced knowledge of metallurgy bestowed upon me by the Anunnaki. The mere thought of them fills me with rage, and I am determined to utilize every bit of information they provided to exact my revenge upon them. The next resource I need is oil to produce more complex machines to speed up the facilitation of producing armor and weapons for my men. This resource is going to be the starting point for our advanced soldiers but must first concentrate on obtaining the Ophidian Clan's land and assimilating as many of their people into our war machine as possible. First we must make a proper military force from these people. 

Yorlee takes a second to look over the capitol that he once governed. The once bustling city of the Anoxe Clan is now a fortress foundry. The streets turned into training grounds, forges burning night and day, smoke blackening the skies. His once starving people now wear Diyu's mark, food is no longer a currency, it is faith. "The city breathes iron now," Yorlee murmurs to Emo as they watch recruits drill in perfect unison. 'It has forgotten what it means to be hungry."

"But it now knows a united purpose and discipline" Emo adds. "Come, back to training the men. Lets split up I will take Melee weapons training and Yorlee, I want you to use your strengths and knowledge of the forges to teach the men how to run it. Diyu wants to keep them running night and day to be ready for marching orders."

"I will make sure they not only know how to run the forges, but can fix our crude engines that help keep them stoked and hammers pounding. I will also look for intelligent workers to encourage new weapons!' Yorlee proudly proclaims. 

Days bled into night. The drills continued without pause. Diyu Demanded perfection. Soldiers rose before dawn, marched until dusk, then were sent to the forges to labor as machinists and engineers. Flesh learned to obey metal; minds learned to submit to rhythm.

When one recruit collapsed from exhaustion, emo moved to intervene.

"He needs rest," he said

Diyu's voice cut through the air. 

"He needs purpose."

Diyu's descended from the balcony, each step ringing like a hammer against an anvil. He knelt beside the fallen kreegan, place a cold hand upon his chest, and whispered words in a language none had ever heard. The soldier convulsed, screaming, eyes wide as viens blackened with streaks of molten light. He rose to his feet trembling, alive, and unbroken. 

Diyu Stood. "The machine mends what is weak. Let this be your lesson."

The ranks stood in silence, fear thick as oil. Emo looked to Yorlee, but the former lord only bowed his head.

"he feeds them," Yorlee murmured. "If it costs him his soul, so be it."

Weeks passed. the forges grew louder. New weapons rolled from the smoke, Crude rifles, metal chariots powered by crude oil, the first walking machines with piston limbs and furnace hearts. Diyu named them Harbingers.

A council was called in the grand hall. Diyu stood before his generals and their assistants, light from the molten crucibles framing him like a black halo. 

"The Kregan will no longer beg the stars for mercy," he said, voice echoing like the roar of the engines. "flesh is frail. Faith burns out. But the machine, the machine endures."

He raised his hand and clenched a fist. The lights dimmed. Outside, the city's forges ignited at once a sea of orange fire. 

"From this day, we are not a tribe. We are not a clan. We are the War Machine! The Kreegan who falter will be reforged. The Kreegan who resist will be fuel."

The crowd roared, a thousand voices chanting his name, their echoes swallowed by the sound of engines awakening. 

The forge-fires painted the walls in shifting reds and golds, the same light that now seemed to burn in Diyu’s veins. Deep beneath the city, in what had once been the treasury hall, a single chamber had been repurposed. It was quiet here, save for the dull hum of the generators above.

Emo descended the iron steps, the echo of his boots the only sound. At the end of the corridor sat Diyu’s mother. She was not chained, but neither was she free. Her quarters were simple a cot, a basin, a small table with a single candle burning low.

“General Emo,” she said softly, not rising. Her voice was frail, cracked from the dry heat. “Has my son sent for me?”

Emo shook his head. “He’s at the foundry towers. Inspecting the new Harbinger frames.”

Her eyes lowered. “Then you did not come to bring me to him.”

“No,” Emo admitted. “I came to see if you were well. Lord Diyu has put your well being in my care.”

A bitter smile crossed her lips. “I am well enough, for a ghost in these hallow walls.”

For a while, neither spoke. The hum of the engines above seemed to pulse like a heartbeat, steady and suffocating.

Finally, she said, “You’ve seen it, haven’t you? The change in him.”

Emo looked up sharply. “He’s become… something more. He’s saving our people.”

“Saving?” Her voice was low, sharp now. “He hasn’t eaten in days, doesn’t sleep. His eyes” She paused, shivering. “They glow when he thinks no one watches. There’s something inside him, General. Something that whispers through him.”

Emo frowned. “You think he’s possessed?”

“I think,” she said carefully, “that my son made a bargain he does not understand.”

She leaned forward, the candlelight catching the lines of grief on her face. “When he was a boy, he used to dream of the hunt. He used to say that he would become the best hunter, so good that no one would grow hungry. Then the world changed, and his dream of the hunt and feeding our people left. But now he only dreams of fire. Do you understand what that means?”

Emo hesitated. “He’s driven. He carries the weight of the Kreegan on his shoulders.”

“No,” she whispered. “He carries someone else’s will.”

She rose, frail but resolute, and placed a trembling hand on Emo’s arm. “You are the only one he still listens to. Speak with him, before the fire consumes what’s left. Before he forgets who he was.”

Emo swallowed hard. The flickering light caught the doubt in his eyes. “And if he no longer listens?”

“Then pray,” she said softly, “that he remembers what it means to love something other than the machine.”

She turned away, returning to her cot. The candle sputtered, its flame almost dying in the hot, heavy air.

When Emo climbed back toward the upper levels, the hum of the forges grew louder. The heartbeat of the War Machine pulsing through the city. Above it all, Diyu’s voice echoed faintly through the metal halls, issuing commands no mortal throat should bear.

Emo paused, staring up toward that sound, and for the first time, fear settled into his bones. he began his ascent from the lower chambers, it felt longer than it should have. The heat grew thicker with each step, the air aline with the pounding of the forgers and the rhythmic hiss of steam. Emo's thoughts churned like the engines he could hear, her words still echoing through his brain like a stone drop in a still pond again and again.

"he carries someone else's will."

He reached the grand hall of the foundry palace, where molten light bled through the iron lattice. The War Machine was never silent these days; even in the dead of night, the city roared like a living creature. 

Diyu Stood at the balcony above the training grounds, still inspecting the Harbingers marching below. From this height they looked small moving in perfect order, each step sounded like thunder in the distant horizon. 

Emo hesitated at the threshold of Diyu's private chamber. The door open and a perfect view of Diyu on the balcony as the air shimmered faintly with heat or power, Emo couldn't tell which. the faint scent of oil and ammonia stung his nose.

When Diyu finally spoke, he didn't turn. "You're troubled, General."

Emo swallowed, straightened his posture, and stepped forward. "I am, my lord. I fear we are losing them."

Diyu now turns towards Emo and walks inside and sits on chair. "losing who exactly?" 

Emo follows him into the camber, the heavy door closing behind with a hiss of steam.

"Them. The soldiers. The Smiths. The ones who once fought for their clans, their homes... their families." He steps closer, voice steady but edged with worry. "They no longer speak of victory or survival, Diyu. They speak of you. They chant your name like it's prayer, not command."

He pauses, gaze flicking to the faint hum of Diyu's core beneath the armor.

"I've seen faith before, but this... this is worship. You asked for loyalty, and they gave you their souls. How long before they have nothing left to be loyal with?"

Diyu snaps back with a bit of annoyance in his voice. "Have you forgotten our goal? Have you forgotten the very cursed ground you walk on is set to be destroyed by our very sun? I give them purpose, I give them hope, I give them life! Without me we are all doomed!"

Emo's shoulders tighten, he does not raise his voice. He never shouts when stating something that must be heard.

"You speak of doom and purpose as if they are the same thing. you speak of life, and yet you hollow them out to fill your bellies with obedience. Purpose given by fear is not hope, Diyu... it is a leash."

he steps closer, so close the heat and light seems to bounce of each others armor. 

"You feed them and they bow. You save them and they forget how to choose. You say you carry them off a dying world, but you carry them into a new grave of your making." Emo's eyes burn with a tired, bitter clarity. "You measure victory in numbers and in iron, but have you counted what it has cost to win them? Their names, their songs, the small things that made them Kreegan. You have traded all of it for uniforms and a chant."

He lets the words hang, slow and heavy.

'you wanted followers, Diyu, You asked for loyalty. But listen to me now, listen as if I still bear the right to speak. They don't follow a leader anymore, they worship a god. A god of smoke and iron."

Diyu turned, eyes glowing faintly in the dim lit room.

"Then let them worship. Gods build empires, were kings only dream of them."

Emo's jaw tightened.

"And when the god demands sacrifice?"

Diyu stepped closer, so close the faint hum of his core filled the silence.

"then the faithful will burn willingly."

Emo doesn't follow. He just. stands there.

He remembers the hunter who desperately wanted to live, who's pride in being Kreegan demanded he help those in his tribe. Flashbacks of Diyu's honorable actions in the past flash though his head. He remembers when Diyu was Kreegan, not whatever he is now. When he spoke with passion and for his people. This new version that just accepted the faithful to be burned, is metal and fire. Emo wipes his head, smearing soot across his brow.

He mutters out loud, "He believes he's saving them, He truly does. Gods help us all, he believes it." 

Diyu makes his way to the forges to oversee how things are going. As Diyu walks down the streets Kreegans lower their heads and take a knee as he passes by. The fires paint the streets like veins of molten blood. Rhythmic clanks of hammers hitting steal, sparks flying on impact the sight is please to Diyu as he stands and watches. Behind him , Soft footsteps approach. Yorlee, Once a Kreegan of importance and power. Now, the keeper of Diyu's forges.

"your presence honors us, Lord Diyu. What do we owe for such an honor?" Yorlee takes a knee and lowers his head. 

Diyu doesn't look at him, "Rise Yorlee, I can see you have paid me honor in this fine forges and glowing hot fires."

Yorlee stands and gets a little closer to Diyu, "Not all wish to honor you as I do my lord, for you deserve the honor of a God. As you are our living God. The one and only supreme being. There are none that can rival you Lord."

Diyu doesn't speak, nor does he acknowledge Yorlee.

"General Emo disapproves," Yorlee said softly, bowing his head. "he forgets that greatness damands pain." 

Diyu didn't turn. "He forgets nothing. He simply fears what he cannont understand."

Yorlee approached, his eyes dlinting, in the forge light. "Then perhaps you should remind him what happens to those who doubt destiny."

Diyu's head tilted slight; not in anger, not yet. Curiosity. "You would have me punish him?"

"I would have you define yourself," Yorlee said, stepping beside him. "A God untested is no God at all. You are becoming what our world has begged for. A savior forged in steel. But saviors cannot afford softness. Not when the weak still question your will."

He looked over the forge, the molten rivers feeding the great foundries. "Do you know what I see when I look at them?" Yorlee asked.

Diyu said nothing.

"I see devotion given form. Every hammer strike, every spark, it is worship. Worship for you my Lord. The do not fear them because you rule them. They fear what they were before you. Starving, divided, and forgotten."

He turned his faze up toward Diyu, Voice lowering to a reverent whisper. 

"Do not let Emo's doubt poison your resolve. The machine must keep moving, even if a few cogs must break."

 Zurrotan voice creeps into Diyu's head.

"He speaks the truth, search your feelings you know this is true. Emo must prove himself worth to sit by the side of his God! a test of faith. Let Emo weed out the main cause of this doubt within your War Machine. you know who it is, I have showed you who will betray you Diyu!"

Diyu whispers out loud, "Mother."

Yorlee hears his words, and confused asks "My lord?"

"Its time we test the faith, bring Emo to my chambers at once." Diyu said.

"Yes, my lord. The weak break. The strong burn, But only the chosen... endure." Yorlee adds and leaves to fetch Emo.

The chamber was lit by molten fire from below his chamber window. Diyu stood behind a desk; Yorlee at his side like a shadow carved from iron. Emo entered, weary from the drills. Emo walks in and See's Yorlee standing at Diyu's side and begins to wonder what this is about. 

"You wish to see me my Lord?" Emo humbly says. 

"Take a seat in front the desk Emo." Diyu commands.

Emo takes a seat and musters the strength to sit straight despite is weary body.

"I have summoned you here to ask you about my mother, You have spoken to her haven't you?"

"Yes my Lord you put her in my care..."

"What does she have to say these days?" Diyu interrupted. 

"She worries for her son. For all of us."

Diyu sighs, "She feeds doubt into the gears of my creation. I know what must be done, if I am to lead us beyond this dying world, there can be no weakness. No hesitation."

Diyu turns to Yorlee. "Fetch a blade."

Emo's Stomach turned. "What are you saying my Lord?"

Diyu stepped forward, voice cold as tempered steel.

"Prove your faith to me. Execute my mother. Show me you are loyal not to blood... but to destiny."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Emo's mind raced with uncertainty, was this truly the will of Diyu? was this even the same person who he once admired and promised to save his people?

"You want me to kill your mother?" Emo asked.

"How dare you question our Lord's..."

Diyu raised his hand to single to Yorlee to be quiet. 

"Yes, I made a promise to you Emo, a long time ago on top of a hill that we will unite the clans. We both knew that sacrifice was needed, How can I be a leader if I do not lead by example. The execution of my mother will prove my ascending to God hood. I have will have no Mortal ties to this world and will be free to do what is needed. Will you do this?"

Yorlee hands his blade handle first over towards Emo.

"If I refuse?" Emo asked.

"Then you stand beside her when the blade falls." Diyu calmly says. 

Emo takes the blade from Yorlee and bows to Diyu before exiting the chamber with sword in hand. He makes his way to the door the leads down the stairs to where Diyu's mother is being kept. He pauses and collect's him self and struggles to justify the actions that lay before him. Emo opens the door and proceeds down the stairs passing several guards along the way. He reaches the final door one last pause before he enters. 

In the early morning hours before the sun could peak out. The guards saw Emo leave Diyu's mother's chamber alone. His armor was spattered with soot and blood that wasn't his. Diyu waited for him in his chambers, the firelight gleaming off his metallic skin. Emo knocks on Diyu's chamber door. 

"Enter" Diyu commands from within the chamber.

Emo hits the button to open the door. It opens with quick hiss noise and Emo steps though, the door quickly shuts behind him with another hiss. 

"Is it done?" Diyu quickly asks.

"Yes." Emo says with a lack of emotion.

"Did she beg?" Diyu asked with hint of conviction in his voice. 

"No, she forgave you."

Diyu's expression flicker with confusion, pain, and then nothing. 

"Good, She is free of doubt now." 

As Emo excused him self out of the chamber Yorlee watched from down at the forger in the shadows, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile. Not of triumph, not joy, just inevitability. 

When dawn came, Diyu stood before his army. Three hundred thousand strong trained, armed, and hungry for purpose. The banner of Anoxe Clan now bore a different symbol. A steel gear with a serpent eye in the middle. 

The drums thundered. The ground quaked. Diyu raised his arm, and the sun broke through the smoke long enough to glint against his armor. 

"The stars have abandoned us!" he called. "The Anunnaki turned their backs on us! but we endure! The blood of this world will fuel our ascension. The War Machine does not stop. It does not weep. it does not die."

A deafening roar answered him. The War Machine marched west, into the mists of the Ophidian swamps their boots striking in perfect rhythm, the sound of an empire being born. 

Above the roar, unseen by any mortal eye, a shadow laughed.