The Tribute
The morning after the feast dawned with a different energy. The air, still tinged with the scent of woodsmoke and charred meat, felt charged. People moved with a purpose that was no longer just about avoiding death. There was a lightness in their step, a glimmer in eyes that had been dull for so long. They had been reminded that survival could have texture, that it could taste like a hot, shared meal. The Kingdom of Rust had a heartbeat, and it was strong.
It was then that the Architect chose to speak again.
The voice didn't boom from the sky. It simply was, arriving inside their minds as a cold, clear data stream, as inescapable as a heartbeat.
"Acknowledgment: Settlement designates 'Sanctum' has achieved Tier 1 Coherence."
People froze in the plaza, bowls halfway to being cleaned, tools hanging limp in hands. The voice was a bucket of icy water on the lingering warmth of the feast.
"Analysis: Collective survival probability has increased by 7.2%. Resource management protocols show emergent efficiency. A primitive social hierarchy has stabilized. This exceeds baseline projections for Iteration 97."
A wave of confused murmurs swept the crowd. They were being... graded?
"Directive: The Spire is the Crucible. The Sanctum is the Anvil. To strengthen the metal, the anvil must bear consistent weight. A tribute is required to maintain this Tier 1 status and access associated privileges."
"Tribute?" Jax snarled aloud, gripping his axe. "What tribute?"
As if in answer, three points of crimson light appeared in the plaza, hovering over the ground. Beneath each light, the stone seemed to liquefy and reshape, rising into three identical pedestals of smooth, black stone. On top of each pedestal, a shallow basin was carved.
"Tribute Parameters: To be delivered within 24 solar cycles.
- Pedestal Alpha: 100 units of refined Corrupted biomass.
- Pedestal Beta: 10 functional components harvested from Spire-floor guardians.
- Pedestal Gamma: 1 voluntary consciousness for system analysis."
Silence, this time absolute and horrified, crashed down.
The first two were brutal but comprehensible. A hundred units of meat? They had just butchered the Razorjacks. It would clean out their new surplus, set them back, but it was possible. Ten functional components from Spire guardians? That meant looting the bosses they killed. Dangerous, but a direct tax on their climbing.
The third was monstrous.
1 voluntary consciousness.
A person. The Architect was demanding a person.
Panic, sharp and immediate, began to ripple out. People backed away from the three black pedestals as if they were venomous. The sense of community from the night before fractured instantly under the weight of this choice. Eyes darted, calculating, accusing. Who would be volunteered? Who was expendable?
Ryley felt the fragile kingdom he'd helped build teetering on the edge of a cliff. This was the true test. Not of strength, but of their humanity. The Architect was weaponizing their hard-won unity.
He stepped up onto the fountain base, the same spot he'd used to declare the feast. His face was pale, but his voice was iron. "Quiet!"
The panic simmered down to a terrified hush.
"The first two are a tax," he stated, cutting through the chaos. "A heavy one. We pay it. The hunts will focus solely on gathering biomass. Every group entering the Spire will prioritize looting guardian components. We have 24 hours. We work."
"But the third!" a woman wailed, clutching a child to her chest. "It wants one of us!"
"It wants us to tear ourselves apart," Ryley corrected, his gaze sweeping the crowd. "That's the real tribute. It's not asking for a body. It's asking us to sacrifice what we just built. To choose who to throw into the dark." He let the horror of that sink in. "So we don't choose."
"What do you mean?" Maya asked, her voice trembling.
"The tribute says 'voluntary'," Liana said, materializing at Ryley's side, her eyes like chips of flint. She had seen the pedestals not as a threat, but as a trap's mechanism. "It doesn't specify whose consciousness. Or that it has to be human."
A spark went off in Ryley's mind. He looked at the black basins, then out towards the walls. "The Corrupted... they were once conscious. They are minds, corrupted by the Rust. Is that not a 'consciousness' for system analysis?"
A daring, insane loophole. Would the Architect accept a broken mind? Or did it demand the pain of a willing, sane sacrifice?
"We catch one," Jax growled, understanding flashing in his eyes. "Alive. We bring it here and… offer it."
The plan was insane. Capturing a Corrupted alive was far more dangerous than killing it. But it was a path forward that didn't involve sacrificing a person.
"Then that's what we do," Ryley declared. "Wall-Wardens, fortify the main gate. We need a holding cell. Hunters, your priority is now live capture. Use nets, pit traps, anything. The rest of you, process every scrap of biomass we have. Start with the Razorjack remains. We meet these demands on our terms."
The kingdom mobilized, not in a panic, but in a furious, collective act of defiance. The feast was forgotten, replaced by a more profound unity—the unity of those refusing to become monsters.
The hunt for the living tribute was led by Liana and Jax. They targeted a smaller, humanoid Corrupted—a "Weeper," known for its slowed, shuffling gait and eerie, whining cries. It took hours, two injuries, and a net woven from Razorjack sinew, but they managed to drag the thrashing, shrieking creature back into the Sanctum, locking it in a barred cellar.
As the 24-hour deadline approached, the plaza was a scene of grim industry. Piles of processed, foul-smelling meat cubes sat by Pedestal Alpha. A collection of gears, lens-like crystals, and strange metallic organs looted from their Spire fights lay by Pedestal Beta.
And before Pedestal Gamma, they dragged the captive Weeper. It pulsed with a malevolent orange light, scratching at the stone.
Ryley stepped forward, the eyes of the entire kingdom on him. He spoke to the empty air. "Architect. The tribute. Biomass. Components." He gestured to the first two piles, which vanished instantly. "And for the consciousness… we offer a mind already claimed by your Rust. Analyze that."
For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened. Had they failed? Was it about to demand a real sacrifice?
Then, the Weeper let out a final, piercing shriek. Its body dissolved not into dust, but into a stream of crimson data, which was sucked into the black basin of Pedestal Gamma. The pedestal glowed, then faded to inert stone.
"Tribute acknowledged. Tier 1 Coherence sustained. Privilege unlocked: Sanctum Respawn Point activated. One designated respawn allowed per 30 cycles. Use it wisely."
A new, soft blue light began to glow steadily from the stone of the main gate archway. A respawn point. A single, precious chance per month for someone who died in the Spire to return here, instead of being erased forever.