Yeah you all know the drill. I do not own Diablo (beyond the purchased game). I do not own That time I was reincarnated as a Slime (beyond the purchased manga). I do not need to be reminded that I do not own them and not rich because of it. Carry on! (... waits till you leave before breaking down and crying because of the lack of ownership.)

Out of Place: Forced out the door

Chapter Four

Veldora's Caverns

High energy areas untainted by demonic corruption, so few, so rare. No matter what their intent was, any angel who comes across this would be the mortal equivalent of a lost wanderer stumbling across a bag of jewels of such quality that even the worst of negotiators would end up well fed for years to come. Sadly the same could be said for those fucking death, suffering and misery bastards as well in an equally neutral setting. It's a good thing they didn't stumble across this then. Meh heh heh!

It was soooo good to have my arm back... but...

... why did I feel so... wanting? Like a cup not full. It's almost as if I was fighting in Hell again, just without the stress and general paranoia associated with it.

... I'll think about it later. I need a distraction. Now where's that journal of mine? There it is.

Order versus Chaos. That ultimately sums up the opposing forces of Heaven and Hell in a nutshell. There were many contrasts of course between the two forces that could be equally stuffed into one word concepts like Good pitted against Evil (even if 'good' was relative, especially with some members of the Host (I'M LOOKING AT YOU IMPERIUS! Malthael too I suppose), and Unification and Disorder. For me though, there was a different contrast to be seen—soldiers and warriors; finesse and savagery; grace and brutality.

And with time, Stagnation and... well I would reluctantly say Creativity, but, Azmodan was as much a stalker as he was a thief of my inventions by the time I became the Castellan. Not to say he didn't have at least a few ideas of his own, but again, thief, stalker, demon bastard, what-have-you. But ultimately that's beside the point lest I devolve into rambling.

Angels were, in essence, ironic in my eyes. True they were basically born with armor which in time was molded by experience and preferences as much as their personalities were fashioned. They grow stronger with age and are capable of making anything they desired. But weapons? Fortresses? Buildings? Elegant though they are in appearance, they were often wanting in substance; or in other words were often crap in quality whenever an angel wasn't passively powering them with their sheer presence. Even then for angels nearly nothing, I repeat, nothing is ever made without some sense of purpose behind them. That's how the Lord of Chairs title stuck, as weirdly amusing as that is, me creating what is essentially useless in the eyes of angels (HYPOCRISY, THEY NAME IS IMPERIUS! MAKE YOUR OWN BEAN BAG CHAIRS IF THEY'RE SO USELESS!). To give an example, if there weren't any demons or any sense of danger for the Crystal Arch then there stood a very significant chance that there wouldn't even be a Silver City in the first place; no walls, no roads, not even a hovel to its name.

But that is neither here nor there.

Soldiers and Warriors. To a degree the entire conflict could be boiled down to such in terms of warfare. Angels by large are essentially trained to fight together, be it as individual squads or as an entire army. That in theory even three wounded angels would be worth an entire warband of demons (often at the minimal strength of six, yet more often than not there are at least twentyish bodies number) as they covered one another and supplemented each other's strengths. As you, dear interloper, may have guessed by now, demons are an inverse to this. The darker incarnation of a warrior's spirit. Pride, rage, the innate desire to dominate others deemed their lesser, short of the Primes or the Mallet Lords there is little sense of recognizable leadership or even cohesion amongst them as they roam towards the battlefield, even after the taking of Hell's Aegis. In fact it was practically common practice amongst them to act on the chance to split away from what constitutes as the main army for each Prime. This had been both a blessing and a curse; less demons facing the Host were always welcomed, but in turn these renegades either made themselves nuisances elsewhere for everyone involved, angel and demon alike depending how spiteful and/or greedy they were, or else taken to ambushing us in areas we had previously thought were secure for the transport of supplies for their own ends rather than to benefit their original masters.

As you may have guessed this disunity also affected the Primes themselves. Sadly though more often than not they have just enough camaraderie with one another to deem any angelic force as a nominal enough threat for a brief alliance between themselves before ripping into each other anew for whatever gain or grudge that pleases them. Were it not for either the Siege of the Diamond Gate or the battles for the Pandemonium Fortress, never mind Aegis, I would constantly forget they were even capable of outright alliances to begin with.

Finesse and Savagery. At first glance it would appear to be simple: form and precision over might and fury; the thrusting of a spear straight into a demon's heart over the poor reach of a clawed swipe from said demon. There's a little more to it than that which involves both the former subject and the latter of Grace and Brutality, something I happily divulged in in my ever persistent quest to survive the war—the use of magic against the brawn of demons.

"Magic against demons? How's that special? Demons use magic too!"

True. Very true. There might be one fact mortals may not be aware of: Demons. Hate. Using. Magic. On. Angels. To the point where very few sorcerers would ever be close to the front line unless they were confident in an imminent victory. Why? Let me ask you this: should you explore the Silver City to its fullest, knew every nook and cranny and traveled to the very limits of the High Heavens were the realm meets the existences of other realms, would you find natural quarry? A mine? Trees even? (No, the groves found in the Basilica of Life that Auriel was kind enough to help me create during one of my moods doesn't count even if I ironically harvest materials from it now and then. By The City's own standards that area is, somewhat paradoxically, an artificial construct. Kind of like wig for mortals if the wig was still somehow alive)—

... aw shit, please tell me the invasion scorch that place! It was my own little sanctuary away from the workshop!

... now that I'm thinking about it, I feel like I'm forgetting something else. What was it though?

Hmm...

—Upon realizing this a conventional mind would think that the structures, the armaments, the cloth for the banners, had to have been gathered from somewhere. And before the creation of the world of Sanctuary it would only be logical that these materials came from Pandemonium before the war ravaged all that was good and green was scoured from its face, leaving only monsters in its wake. There's some truth to this logic once I had my way once my own voice started to carry genuine weight without Tyreal's, Auriel's and sadly even Imperius' voice at a later date; Mathael was on the fence about the issue throughout it all though given that it forced the dividing of our forces to relatively non critical areas in the war.

In the end though, no. Angels never bothered to gather resources in the beginning. They were just very good at manipulating energy. They literally made the immaterial material. If they wielded swords, they spent the time and effort gathering the ambient energies around them, from within them even, to make them from pommel to tip. The same could be said for everything else: walls, vases, banners, battlements. How does this translate into demons magic casters hating to partake in the fight against angels without some sense of surety?

It is exceptionally easy to tear apart their spells, add it to our own and fling it back at them.

As much as I love doing that and gleefully cackle in their demise, demons who have a keener interest in magic which requires active casting have long since learned to stay as far back as the amount of breathing meat shields could provide for them. Even the Primes begrudgingly permitted their absence from the majority of battles so long as they weren't overtly critical in some fashion. Sadly there were enough bruisers to take their place that were happy enough for the chance for either some perceived glory or to add more trophies for their collection.

On a side note: angel weaponry, even structures, when used by mortals, comparison to them even, are, as I said before, are surprisingly subpar when without the presence of an angel. Or rather without the energies of the energies provided by the Crystal Arch, which, given this is the closest thing to food and water for an angel, is in essence carried forth by the angels which helps empower their weapons.

Weapons however are a more... delicate issue than structures. It took me awhile to notice it at first but angels, at large, have a tendency to ignore weapons that were left behind by their forbearers. Not that I was innocent per se; after awhile you end up ignoring the depressing number of abandoned weapons in Pandemonium in favor of the next fight, the next ambush, the next siege.

... I couldn't help but make an ugly scoff to myself as I realized something: I regret to say I long since abandoned finding the time to try to use fallen comrades', those who fight with me or ended up dying under my command, weapons as grave markers...

... when was the last time I even considered visiting Ortonus' claymore? Or Ly'Myl's axe and hammer?

... Ultunas. Mryel. Lanwel. Indrial. Wen'Chal. Lorien. Acterion. Ve'ell. Finnelis. Sodello. Zyndal. Morven. Woyl. Durian. So'vell. Indris. Erlas. Juno... There were more. I know there were more. I may be horrible with names, but I know there were many others whom I made and effort to remember, now gone... when did I start forgetting you all? Could my loss of memory be worse than I suspect?

... I better get back to writing. Need to get back to writing.

I wasn't quite sure what to think, at first. You can bleat all you want about honor or respecting the dead, but, if there were a whole battalion's worth of spears, pikes, swords, maces and such, why not make an effort to collect them for the next soldier who takes their place? I and several others, including members of the Angiris Council, could attest to exhaustion from prolonged periods of conflict where we couldn't muster the energy needed to make repairs to our personal weaponry.

It was some time before I started picking up these abandoned weapons and experimenting with fighting styles with them, in the rear echelon stations mean more as watch posts than anything, the least likely places to be hit beyond the occasional would be saboteur or scout. Having made and used a spear before then, and my reliance on it until it was unfortunately destroyed during a skirmish during a routine patrol, I didn't quite understand why angels subconsciously avoided active use of these discarded weapons until I found myself desperately relying on them from one fight to the next.

You could say that these weapons are essentially keyed to their previous maker/user, the weapons unconsciously molded to them. One could see two exact copies of the same weapon that came from two different angels only to find, upon yielding them, that they were not remotely the same. Not only that, but once the original yielder dies (or rather the previous wielder dies, a few angels have been known to trade their weapons with one another) the weapon essentially atrophies once there is no longer an angel to supply it with the necessary strength to retain itself; if one effectively wanted to restore such a weapon they needed to not only supply it with power but dedicate enough time and effort to make that weapon 'theirs'. While weapons long forgotten on the weapon racks within the Silver City do not suffer to such a degree by virtue of their proximity of the Crystal Arch compared to those left out in the wastes of Pandemonium, suffice it to say that picking up an long-passed angel's weapon was an act of desperation on another angel's part.

As for angel weapons left behind in hell... one would be lucky to find even rust left behind, assuming of course a demon hadn't gone out of their way to pervert them for one reason or another.

... Hmmm. Should I? Perhaps. I can edit it later if need be.

The personal armaments of the Council however are another league entirely though if I'm particularly honest. To be fair though they are the oldest angels, or at least the most powerful, and their weapons fittingly match thus. In all honesty however I never had a true chance to observe them beyond what I could see on the battlefield or unwittingly spy on from afar. They have, or at least I suspect they have, long since reached a point where they functionally sustain themselves regardless of their wielders or even any other angel's presence. Self sustaining as they are powerful... I suspect that they would be the final stage of any weapon an angel personally makes as opposed to any my workshop has forged, and fought with since time immemorial on their part. It almost makes me wish to put a halt to my own weapon production lines in favor of such a feat. Yet in good conscious I cannot do that even after the so called agreement between the High Heavens and the burning Hells; I would certainly not bar anyone with their personally made weapons, but none have ever doubted the quality of the weapons forged with the metals hewn from Pandemonium and Sanctuary before the pact was made, both infused with the ambient energies of either its point of origin or what the Crystal Arch readily provides in the Silver City, even if they suffered the same fate as their energy fashioned counterparts.

I suppose that's enough for now.

... what am I doing in a cave again?

No, wait. Right. Dragon-god-thing that went missing. Right. If only this place wasn't a maze. Then again even mazes have limits, the markers I've been leaving behind helped me avoid accidently going back to the door after the third time. Sort of. The rest was simply me mapping out the cave system if anyone asks. Still, cavern upon cavern, tunnel to tunnel... honestly, short of that larger cavern with the lake I'd be surprised if there was a dragon in here at all. No typical signs of roosting, resting or what have you that indicated the prolonged presence of a dragon. No natural way in either as far as I can tell, or an artificial one aside from the door I originally entered from if the door counted. If Veldora left then I simply didn't stumble across a means large enough for a dragon to leave.

Then again what if the dragon was of a smaller statue that could navigate these tunnels, and thus didn't need a larger exit point? Veldora could've left the same way I originally came in. Of course then that would imply a higher end intelligence since he would basically have to not only open the door without tearing it off its hinges but close it and lock it behind him as he left. If this dragon was of a higher intelligence then that also meant that the use of magic to teleport himself out, necessitating the need for an exit to begin with regardless of size.

Ugh...

Let's say Veldora is officially no longer a factor, where does that leave me? I ultimately cannot stay here—whether I like it or not I must return to the High Heavens even if the act may be a pointless endeavor with the inclusion of the nephalem. Or rather the act of coming to its defense is pointless, yet even in the lull the High Heaven will forever be at war with the Burning Hells.

I couldn't help but scoff at that... have I really gave up any hope of returning to—no wait. Tyreal became human upon renouncing his lineage. How'd I forget that? Regardless, the Hells would need to be fought whether I like it or not.

... Sigh.

Back to the matter at hand: My body may be restored but I apparently still need to recover. I cannot put a finger as to why I feel so... drained as I am right now. Empty rather. Perhaps I didn't utilize the surrounding abundance of aether correctly?

At any rate, I could simply move somewhere else but if the apparent unrest my mere presence caused was an indicator then it stood to reason that I would basically just be moving the problem elsewhere. Yet if I stay here I would doubtlessly attract attention in the long run. Not only that but assuming I stayed with them, the goblins, how would that play out? Would I end up creating a goblin empire? Would every sentient race there come to my feet to worship me? Would I basically have to function as the "guardian god" as Veldora before me? None of it was appealing to be honest.

... yet I did say I would try to fix this mess, didn't I?

Alright. In order, attempt to build a foundation within the forest as things settle down. Observe the situation as it unfolds and hope it gets better, and step in to fix it if it proves to be worsening. Then, once the situation has settled and I have recovered sufficiently, I leave after performing one last check to ensure what I leave behind does not fall to chaos and attempts to take over the world. That's as simple a plan I can make at this juncture.

Now to build a proper foundation I would need to give the goblins a leg up in their defenses. Walls and forts were nice and all but wooden spears, bows with stone arrowheads, improvised hammers plus clubs, and axes with stone heads only provided so much towards a defense. They needed iron, steel would be better but I'm not sure if time was my ally here. There were deposits of metal within the cave, thankfully, but it would seem that the overwhelming amount of mana in the environment had fundamentally altered them. It sort of reminded me of some of the more exotic materials we mined and utilized from Pandemonium.

I wonder what sort of results we can get from them if we refined them from their raw states?

XVX

Goblin village (aka Jack's village), Great Forest of Jura, three hours later

"He returned! He returned! Great Jack has returned!"

Oh for the love of all that is good and holy... At least they set up their... hovels while I was gone. I'm fairly sure the shacks found within mortal cities are considered palaces in comparison. At bare minimum they didn't appear as inclined to topple over in the wind. A point in their favor however was that they managed to set up a second fence without needing my guidance, but still.

... never mind. The fence was barely any better. I can see they tried to replicate what we did with the fence but a good number of the posts were lopsided, more then one section tilting forward or back rather than uniform, creating gaps for an intruder to slip past the outer line.

On a semi related issue there's no forge here, is there?

Is the situation here much like more frontier villages within Sanctuary where at best there was only two people whom have specialized skills? Would they be able to produce metal weaponry on their own should I leave or would I basically have to either provide for them or teach them? In either case I would need to delegate—my memory may be a shadow of its former self in regards to my previous life but I certainly know I never was a teacher. The fact we got the workshop in the Silver City up and running as we did was nothing short of a miracle after beating my head against the wall for decades on end in trying to teach any one anything.

"Great Jack! It's great to have you back! Were you able to find out what happened to Veldora?"

"N—wait, who are you?"

I know beyond a doubt that none of the inhabitants were taller than mid-thigh at best. None were nearly tall as myself! Not only that but his features were much more human than they were before.

For what it was worth the... man-goblin(?) before me squirmed in place as he awkwardly scratched his head. "It's, uh, me. Charles. You gave me my name just before you entered Veldora's cave yesterday. Do you not remember?"

I was in there for over a day? No, better question. Did I name someone yesterday? Wait, I recall them mentioning something about someone having to give them names or the like. But how did that lead to this?

"I do not understand. How did you become..." I gestured to him in general. "Tall?"

He straightened himself as a frown adorned his features, looking bewildered as if I should know why in the first place. "Great Jack, sir... when someone with significant magicules bestows a name onto a lower ranking monster the monster, the act transfers a portion of their magicules onto them. Should it be enough the amount would trigger a evolution into a higher ranked species."

... evolution?

No. Just... no. That... no creature of Sanctuary, of Heaven, Hell and in between, works like that...

This required testing.

I snapped my head toward the nearest 'unevolved' goblin and point a finger at them much to their startled surprise. "I shall call you..." Come on, think of something! "Shin Bone!"

... close enough. But still!

"You shall be Cosmo!"

"Larry!"

"Shoe!"

"June!"

"Great Jack, please! If you get over eager—"

He was saying something, but my curiosity demanded to be sated. No. Not curiosity. Evolution did not just 'occur' and dramatically change something at such a rapid pace of one day. At its most base level it is something that meet a new factor that demanded a change to overcame lest it imperils the former. A change of tactics at the absolute minimum. Cold Weather? The body adapts to it generation by generation that the cold is nowhere near as burdensome, perhaps by allowing greater capacity for fat to act as an insulator or letting the body grow courser hair to trap excess heat. Failing that warmer or layered clothes. Species reconstruction change at such a radical level? Nothing organic in Sanctuary was capable of it.

As it stands right now there stands a possibility that I was in another world entirely. If I was to get back then I must know if there was any hope for my return.

There must not be room for doubt.