[Sinister Shadows Alert:

Apologies for the delay, your foe's attack temporarily resulted in you almost blacking out due to massive damage. Your foe is effectively unconscious and is no longer a danger to you. Your shadow power won't activate, until you are next attacked.]

Damn it... I hissed, mentally. My protective shadow power didn't activate in time for me to be able to use it. My enemy laid on the floor in front of me, helpless as he underwent a conscious evolution.

[Remain on standby. This fight isn't over yet.] I told the system, ordering it to be ready to lash out at my foe, who had only managed to land a single blow on me, even though it was a powerful and devastating one. 

[And next time, don't wait! Activate automatically the second an enemy launches an attack at me, don't just activate when I'm hit!] I snapped, annoyed that a power that was meant to be defensive was so useless. 

[Aplogies for that. The Sinister Shadows power will trigger automatically the next time you enter combat, without asking for permission to strike. This is a new power, and it's one of the rare ones that automatically creates a new, perpetual entity. Its rules are a bit tricker than the rules for other powers.] The system told me, attempting to justify the absence of the power from the calamitous and painful battle I had just been in.

I sighed in annoyance at the system and continued to move towards my foe, ready for a fight but hoping to be able to one-sidedly slaughter the enemy before me.  

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The scene in the depths of the Infernian desert was a dire one. A monster made of plants and fungi was awkwardly hurling itself at a strange, fallen body that was radiating a piercing, unholy light. Both of the creatures were powerful beings, and though one was far stronger than the other he had made a single mistake that allowed for their fight to go sideways.

The plant monster was moving awkwardly due to a horrendous injury which he had just sustained and was already beginning to recover from. He had a single fully-formed and mobile leg. Just one. His other leg, or what was left of it, was on the floor not far from his current location. The remains of the leg were not flesh and bone but were instead a dense series of interlocked roots that ended in the stabbing point of a knife made of hard, floral roots.

The fallen body the monster was throwing itself at was that of a Krieg-Devil, generals and potent duelists in Infernius. Or rather, it had been that of a Krieg-Devil. The creature was currently undergoing an impossible, unseen in eons, transformation.

The transformation the creature was undergoing wasn't as mundane as that of an intermediate devil transitioned into another sort of intermediate devil. It was instead that of a greater devil transforming into a true-devil, the top tier of devil-kind.

As the god that the devil was clashing with reached the only semi-conscious form of the devil, Gugrog's body began to change. He wasn't just glowing anymore. The strange, irradiant outline that Althos could see was morphing before his very eyes.

Gugrog's shape was shrinking. The enormously, dangerously tall thing was losing both height and width before Althos' very eyes. The once positively gigantic devil was rapidly losing height, and his once almost legendary width was reduced incredibly as well.

Watching this intrigued Althos, who was aware that more than ending existed to this encounter, including ones where he captured the devil his blood was transforming. 

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This is a weird situation. I realized, keenly aware that this wasn't a great situation to be in, but also that this was an odd and possibly historic one. 

If what my comrades, worshipers, and servants tell me is true... Then this is the first time a devil became a true-devil in millennia. I thought, keenly aware of the status of Krieg-devils as the ultimate military devils, who were so powerful that not even Vizier-devils could be said to be superior to them.

Two ends of the hierarchy, just along different tracks. I mused. But not for long. I knew what I needed to do, even if it wasn't the funniest thing or perhaps the most immediately rewarding.

I know what I ought to do. To prevent any further mishaps. I told myself, as I moved until I was right above the head of the devil, and I rose a hand in the air so as to maximize the speed and force of the blow I was about to launch at my enemy.

With my fist in the air, I willed the shape of my hand to take advantage of its malleable nature. I envisioned my fist becoming a naturalistic, organic spear. And then I waited as the transformation took hold. 

I felt the countless tangles of vines, fungal plating, and bits and pieces of bark that made up my arm begin to rearrange themselves, pulling together and then twisting apart as necessary to unmake my fist and reshape it into a powerful spear. The feeling the motions made me feel was an uncomfortable one, but not a painful one. 

In seconds my hand was unmade, and in its place was a thin but sharp, spear. I grinned at the devil I was aiming at and lunged downwards, my spear aimed at where I suspected my foe's eyes would be. I may not have been able to prevent the damned thing from evolving, but I'll prevent it from getting back up. I said to myself, annoyed that this had progressed the way it had. 

My spear stabbed downward, cutting through the air with ease and easily penetrating the face of the newly-made true-devil before the thing could truly awaken. I felt the point of my own body swiftly penetrate flesh, bone, and then something soft, something squishy. Ugh. Gross. I thought, grimacing internally at the sensations I felt. 

I pulled back my arm-spear with a forceful tug and felt the thing retract back from the hole it had just created. As I did so, I heard a small, gasping breath escape the lungs of my foe and if I could at that moment I would have gritted my teeth in annoyance. I figured you'd still live, you damn fool. I thought, as I swiftly lifted my spear-arm back into the air.

While my spear was in the air, I glared down at the semi-conscious but unresponsive devil beneath me and I quickly stole into his mind and copied his memories. I'm not about to let this opportunity slip me by. I told myself, grabbing the ancient, millennia-spanning memories, thoughts, knowledge, and secrets, this devil had collected during his incredibly long life. 

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Another blow must be struck. I realized, and as soon as my spear was held high, I aimed it slightly to the left of the soon-to-be corpse and stabbed down again. And again my spear penetrated flesh, bones, and brain. As my spear-point was thrusting deeper and deeper into Gogrug, I cast Harvest Soul on the true-devil. And while this happened I received a pleasant notification.

[Alert: Gugrog the general has perished. You've gained experience. And for killing the thing with a weapon, however organic and eerie, you've inched closer to unlocking the following classes: Paladin, dark night, Berserker, and Fighter.]

Good. I thought, eager that the devil was done away with before it could lash out at me with its newfound powers. I felt a wave of happiness spring up from within me as I realized I had just done away with one of the strongest foes I'd have to face when I eventually came here again, with a full army backing me. 

Seconds later I felt an immense surge of power, rage, and hopelessness flood into me as I collected the newly released soul of Infernius' youngest and least powerful true-devil. While I relished the feeling of the soul within me, I felt my leg complete its regeneration, granting me my full, shambling, movement once more.  

I shivered as I felt the power surge into me, and prepared my aura of teleportation so that I could return to the city of Infernius. As I did so, my mind turned to the potency of my blood, and I began to imagine the sorts of wonders and horrors I could create with it. And almost as a reward for enduring the ordeal I had just gone through, I received a pleasant notification.

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[New Quest Alert: The Tyrant Of Transformation

Two subdomains have collaborated to provide you with a quest, à la the "Master Manipulator" quest you have. The subdomains of mutation and blood are collaborating to afford you access to their lowest tier of influence. 

Quest Objective: Have your cult entitled "The Changed Circle' successfully convince five creatures to drink of your blood and become evolved, mutated beings devoted to you. Existing members of the cult don't count towards this, though other worshipers of yours do count.

Reward: Successful completion of this quest will award you the first tier of influence over the subdomains of mutation and of blood.

The subdomain of mutation is also the subdomain that grants power over evolution, and templates. The subdomain of blood grants you power over your own blood and that of other people. At its lowest tier of influence it also allows you to animate puddles of blood and create oozes under your control, so long as they are made of blood.]

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I suppose I ought to contact Krivrivas and inform him to amplify the activity of the Changed Circle... I realized, after reading the notification, eagerly accepting the quest. I immediately reached out to my worshiper, using the religion menu, and sent him a message. 

[Krivrivas, your lord will come to visit you soon. Ready your followers to receive me in the cavernous home I've given you.] I said to the drider, who was located in another world. 

At that moment, I reached through our connection to see what he was up too and for a brief moment, I was able to glimpse the plump and, in his eyes, succulent backside of one of the female driders I had transformed during the two-month period leading up to the present. Krivrivas' hands were out and he was massaging the behind of the drider he was seducing, both her arachnid anatomy and that of her dark-elven half.

His fingers were dripping the unorthodox massaging oil he was using on his paramour, the blood of insects that the cult regularly feed on to survive in the space I had given them to colonize and populate. The scent of the blood, and of the sweat of both him and the woman he sought to marry, mixed together and filled the chamber with an unusual scent. She let out a pleased moan in response to his massage and seemed to be enjoying herself as much as he was. 

I hissed and pulled my vision back from his eyes. He immediately sent me a message, aware of my actions, as soon as I was done seeing through his eyes.

[Deepest apologies, my lord. I was in the midst of providing my lover with some much needed... aftercare, after our latest romp. I will prepare the others for your visit! And formally ask you for permission to cement our relationship in your eyes.] The former dark-elf told me, the last part of the thought referring to the drider he was on top of. His mental voice sounded both chipper and tired. It was as if he had just finished a rather vigorous workout, which in a sense I suppose he had.

And after that I whisked myself back to the city, recalling myself to where I knew my horde of spore-zombies to be. 

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I returned to a vastly different scene than the one I had left. When I left I had been in the middle of a street surrounded by corpses of soldier-devils, and when I returned that same street was occupied by my swarm of spore-zombies. And off in the distance, I could see a welcome sight: the sight of dozens of devils, of assorted types, fleeing the city and dashing towards my servants. 

At first, I was a bit nervous, but I immediately checked the dozens of devils using Identify so that I could be sure the devils dashing towards me were at least foes of Paimon if not allies of mine. It didn't take me long to be sure that they were. 

And that was how I began the sole period of my time in Bastille that was relatively calm and joyful. My spore-zombies dashed towards their brethren who sought to flee the cruel rulership of their ineffectual tyrant leader. I shouted out one more command to my creations. 

"Remember children! Do not assault those who are fleeing the city!" I shouted, commanding my followers to be pacifistic towards the devils dashing towards us. I projected my voice loud enough for the devils coming towards us to hear and chuckled as I saw them, a healthy distance away, breathe a sigh of relief. 

When the two groups did meet, my obedient creations would let them by with no problem. I'd command the refugees fleeing Bastille to dash forward and to keep dashing until they reached a line of fort kilometers away from this city. They obeyed me and would receive a cautious but optimistic welcome when they reached the border that marked where Paimon's territory ended and mine began.

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When my primary will had gone from being outside of the Girtablilu village, to the council-meeting place deep in the heart of one of our forts, I took his place. I, the mind-form of Althos, had been waiting outside of the Girtablilu village so that we could become even greater devils for about an hour, while my other-selves caused mischief in Bastille. While I was here, waiting for Lugh, I felt a number of faint, emotional echoes. Echoes of the feelings the other me's felt about things that happened to them.

I felt the power of gaining new devil worshipers, worshipers located within the vibrant city of Bastille. I felt an echo of the pain that plagued my primary-will. I felt the joy and rush of power that came with the absorption of the memories, thoughts, secrets, and knowledge, and then later the very soul, of the latest creatures within Infernius to become a true-devil. And lastly, I felt the immense joy both of my other manifestations felt when they witnessed devils openly fleeing the city of Bastille, rushing towards them and out of Paimon's ineffectual grasp. 

The total amount of time I had to sit idly by while my two other-selves ran around and invaded an enemy city, was about an hour. It was at that point, an hour after my primary self was one of the two who invaded Bastille, that Lugh reappeared in the distance. And he wasn't alone. I chuckled as they approached me, and I knew that we weren't far from gaining control over another community. 

Aoine was the sort to wear his heart on his sleeve and he had a look in his eyes, a look of driven ambition and incredible pride. A look I could exploit. A look I would exploit.