Ascended… Gods?
Demoros stepped back through the portal, his brow furrowing as Zarathos materialized beside him. He exhaled sharply, annoyance flickering across his face as he regarded the young titan he had taken under his control. Though natural enemies by birth, this one was merely a pup, having witnessed barely twenty orbits—a mere pawn, easily shaped.
Her peculiar affinity for portals, a rare and valuable skill, certainly added to her utility. The time dilation between realms, especially the prison world of Earth from which she had fled, made her age ambiguous, fluctuating with the flow of time across dimensions.
Further complicating matters, that very prison world, teeming with titans, was now merging with this realm under the influence of his accursed mother, the Primordial of Magic. This convergence reignited ancient conflicts and ushered in Life herself. Yet, amidst this chaos, such concerns were trivial compared to the immediate issues at hand.
He had tricked the Primordial Death and banished her. Though Demoros knew it was only temporary—sending her to Earth would last perhaps a single orbit, maybe two if he was lucky, due to its convergence—he had been able to exploit the weakened barrier between realms caused by the convergence to achieve this. The last time he had banished a Primordial, it was Life, and he did so with all the titans alongside her, expending everything he had to accomplish it. It would not last this time, only buying himself a bit more time to prepare.
Distracted again, Demoros exhaled sharply, turning to Mara, his protégé titan. “Why did you bring them back with us?” he demanded, gesturing towards the dragon and his champion, who was still tightly held in the dragon’s talons. “My intended disciple was to devour them after my display.”
Mara, nonchalant, leaned back against Demoros’ throne and examined her nails. “Nobody bothered explaining the plan to me,” she remarked casually.
Demoros paused, his thoughts swirling as he mulled over her casual remark, then nodded slowly, a realization dawning. “Huh, I believe you’re right.”
Zarathos, struggling with his injuries, lifted his head, his voice a mix of confusion and rage resonating through the vast, empty Ascended Council Hall. “W-What?” he stammered, his deep voice echoing ominously. “You mean to betray me? Me!” His roar was full of fury as he attempted to rise, spreading his battered wings wide. Blood streamed from his numerous wounds, painting a grim picture of his struggle to maintain composure amidst his profound fatigue and injuries.
A laugh echoed through the hall, followed by a slow clap, as another figure emerged from the shadows. Zarathos shifted his gaze toward the newcomer without fully diverting his attention from Demoros. Yet, he found himself increasingly distracted as the figure seemed to morph continuously, shifting form from one shadow to the next. The tone of their laughter alternated between masculine and feminine, matching the fluid transformations of their shape within the shadows.
Demoros sighed in annoyance. “You’re not needed here, Serpent. I have this under control and don’t need your help fulfilling my portion of our bargain.”
“If you say so,” the shadows replied in a wide assortment of voices and tones simultaneously, putting the Ascended Dragon God on edge as his eyes darted, trying to track the elusive darkness. “I just would like to know why the lizard is still alive. Wasn’t he meant to be sacrificed to my little niece? If we’re to achieve our goals before Life returns, we need her help—she needs to grow stronger.”
“This was just a matter of miscommunication on both of our parts,” Demoros huffed, casually waving his hand toward Mara, who continued examining her nails, seemingly indifferent.
There was a long pause before the Serpent spoke again. “I see… and what of the soul you were to collect as our… bargaining chip?”
“Your mother intervened.”
“I see,” the shadows flickered. “And what happened to Death?”
“Off to join Life, though I doubt it will be long due to my mother’s involvement,” Demoros sighed this time.
“Very well, cousin. Have your fun with this one, but make sure it seems as though Blake was the one who ended him. If she’s to fulfill our task, we’ll need her anger directed at the system,” the Serpent finished before fading away into nothingness.
“I’ll see to it, Jörmun.”
Zarathos, utterly confused by the conversation he had just witnessed, gathered enough to be enraged all the same. Turning his full attention back to Demoros, he growled, “You mean to betray the Empire? Betray your own kind, us gods, after how many centuries you’ve been with us?”
“Gods? Please! You’re all just a bunch of delusional toddlers playing around with power that was meant for titan children to combat my kind.”
“Your kind?” Zarathos blinked.
Demoros smiled. “Centuries? Oh, right—the real Demoros. I sometimes forget. It’s been fun manipulating you for these past two years, but it seems you’re no longer needed. It’s a shame your essence won’t be going toward my cousin—sister?—huh, I suppose our family gene pool is a bit confusing with the swapping around of souls,” he pondered aloud.
“No longer needed?” Zarathos roared, his voice shaking the very air. “You think you can do away with me?”
The mighty dragon opened his maw; flames and smoke began to form within as he readied to exhale dragon fire upon Demoros, or whatever was posing as the Ascended God. However, before he could unleash his fiery wrath, Demoros lifted his right arm, and suddenly it exploded into hundreds of black tentacles. They wrapped around Zarathos, sealing his maw and binding his body with a strength he hadn’t known was possible. He began to fight, thrashing about to break free, but horror seeped into his bones as he realized it was futile. A burning sensation crept over him as the tentacles started corroding through his scales as if they were mere paper.
Panic raced through Zarathos as he realized this was the end. Yet, he knew he still had a chance—a chance for revenge, a chance to warn others. With the last bit of his strength, he channeled his mana into his talon, still protectively cradling his champion.
Using the magic that had brought him to that wretched moon, Nyxoria, he started a teleportation spell to send his champion away. He could feel her resistance to his magic as she struggled to break free from his grasp, fight for and die for him. It warmed his dragon heart that she, someone he considered part of his dragon’s horde, would care so much for him, would be willing to die for him. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
Thankfully, her strength wasn’t enough; her resistance meant nothing to him, and without the power to prevent it, she vanished from his grasp to safety as his consciousness slipped away into oblivion.
Mara blinked, finally tearing her gaze away from her nails as the scene unfolded before her. “His champion got away, Nyarl—”
“Don’t say my true name,” Demoros snapped before she could finish, only to pause to take a deep breath before continuing. “The champion doesn’t matter. No longer tied to Zarathos’ system powers, she’ll revert to her disfigured form, her injuries from the Grotto of the Betrayed returning. If I’m not mistaken, those were life-threatening injuries. I doubt she’ll survive long.”
Mara responded with a simple shrug, “If you say so.”
“What about our… allies who provided the information about my little sister?”
“You know, you’re right, your family tree is all sorts of screwed up,” Mara shook her head.
“Funny coming from you, little titan,” Demoros chuckled as he dissolved the last bits of Zarathos.
Mara rolled her eyes, continuing, “That vampire and his kitty vamp are waiting for news on reclaiming their coven,” Mara told him.
“They’ll be disappointed to learn that most of their home is uninhabitable for the next century after the destruction of a dungeon core,” Demoros chuckled again. “What of our prisoner, has she given us any information yet?”
“No, the priestess is quite stubborn.”
“That’s fine. Send the two vampires back to their moon; we no longer need them.”
“I’m surprised you’re not going to kill them,” Mara commented. “And what of the dark elf?”
“You can kill them if you want. They serve no further use to me alive or dead,” Demoros said, pausing for a long moment before answering the next question. “Keep the priestess. She’s still of some use.”
A Kingdom’s Twilight
Chaos tore through the kingdom as the mana storm ravaged the landscape, ripping roofs from their foundations and toppling towers like matchsticks. Screams pierced the tumultuous roar of the wind, carrying the terror of the citizens battling the unrelenting forces. High Priest Nelzar scrambled frantically inside his office, stuffing everything he could into his dimensional storage necklace, his hands trembling with urgency.
The wail of a blowhorn cut through the cacophony, urgent and alarming. Nelzar rushed to the nearest window, standing on his little gnome tiptoes to peer outside. His heart sank as he spotted only three airships limping back to safety—mere survivors of the dozens sent to annihilate the vampires. The devastated fleet spoke volumes: they had lost catastrophically. He had to escape—now!
With panicked movements, Nelzar yanked up a rug and wrestled with a slightly raised floor stone. His fingernails clawed desperately, finally lifting the stone to reveal a hidden potion bag. It was his emergency kit, filled not with potions but with dimensional rings and necklaces, each filled with essential items for a swift getaway.
Bag in hand, Nelzar bolted from his office, only to halt abruptly as two royal guards approached, their armor clanking ominously. “High Priest Nelzar, the royal family demands your presence. The king wishes to speak with you immediately,” one guard announced, blocking his path.
Swallowing hard, Nelzar stammered, “I... I need to grab something first—to present to the king,” his voice quivered with a poorly masked fear.
“We will accompany you, but hurry; the king cannot be kept waiting,” the guard insisted, his tone brooking no argument.
As Nelzar nodded weakly, “T-That won’t be necessary,” his attempt at delay was overly obvious to the two guards.
The guards exchanged a skeptical look before one stepped forward, firm and unyielding. “You must come now,” he commanded.
Just then, a blinding flash erupted. The guards, caught off-guard, looked down in horror at the fresh holes in their chests, their lives extinguishing as quickly as the light in their eyes. They collapsed in a heap, silenced forever, while Nelzar seized the moment of shock to dash for his life, the storm’s howl echoing his frantic heartbeat.
He burst outside into the heart of the storm, the violent mana whirlwinds immediately lifting him off the ground, threatening to hurl him into the tumultuous sky. Desperate, Nelzar summoned his own magic in defense, struggling to maintain his ground. His spells flickered erratically, almost failing as the mana storm’s overwhelming saturation interfered with even the simplest incantations. Only the strongest of spellcasters could hope to cast in such chaos, and it drained him of nearly all his strength to just remain anchored.
With gritted teeth, Nelzar battled his way toward where the airships were descending, his one of only three chances to escape this moon. Just then, disaster struck—one of the airships misjudged its landing amidst the tempest, crashing violently into the ground and bursting into a heap of splinters. Nelzar’s heart raced as panic surged through him; he doubled his efforts, now painfully aware that only two viable escapes remained for the entire Kingdom of Slaethia.
The first of the last two remaining airships managed a successful landing, and Nelzar was right there, boarding as defeated and wounded knights, mages, and barbarians began limping off the vessel in search of healing and rest. Nelzar paid them no heed as he pushed his way to the helm. He only paused when he noticed General Anlyth looking utterly defeated.
“Ezad!” Nelzar called out as he approached the man.
The general glanced up, noticing the approaching gnome before recognition filled his gaze. “High Priest,” he greeted, but his words had no mirth or joy.
“We need to leave—now!” Nelzar urged, his tone sharp and urgent.
Ezad blinked, his mind struggling to grasp the gravity of the situation. After a few seconds, he managed to find his voice. “W-What?” he stuttered. “Why?”
“Look around you! This mana storm is covering the entire moon, if not at least half of it,” the gnome exclaimed, urgency edging his voice. “The kingdom is doomed. The monster hordes alone will intensify from the overabundance of mana. Plus, it appears you were defeated! What happens when the vampires and other races retaliate? These are the last two airships for the entire kingdom; our army has been desolated, and the Empire has already departed. We’re on our own, and these two vessels are our only means of escaping! Do you think the royals will let a defeated general leave when they run?” Nelzar frantically explained. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not staying behind to find out!”
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
The general slowly nodded, absorbing the direness of their situation, then sighed, “What about supplies? We don’t have enough for a voyage to another moon.”
“Don’t worry about that. I have everything we’ll need,” Nelzar reassured him, holding up a small pouch he clutched in his hand.
Ezad took a deep breath, rallying his resolve, before yelling to the last few remaining crew aboard the Skyborne Sovereign, “Quickly, we’re departing!” He then glanced down at the gnome, “Where to?”
“Yaddith! I have a distant relative ruling over a small kingdom there,” Nelzar stated, feeling a wave of relief as the crippled airship began its ascent.
Vampires
Lord Demidicus stood in the throne room, where a throne should have been, only to find it splintered and scattered across the grand chamber. His gaze shifted to his daughter—not the one he was proud to call his offspring, but the original Aurelia, the useless soul born to that body, which he had bound to the ring she wore. From what he could discern, with the soul of the daughter he recognized removed from the body, the soul within the ring was able to influence the shell, much like a phylactery.
It pained him to witness the resurgence of such weakness in his daughter, and he considered ending her existence then and there. However, he couldn’t bring himself to do it—after all, where would the soul he cherished go if it lacked a vessel to return to? So, Demidicus allowed the weak soul to inhabit his daughter’s body for the time being, though he tsked every time he observed her timid nature and noticed her flinch whenever she caught him watching.
Worse still, Duke Lysander, the man his true daughter—his only daughter—had married, was nowhere to be found. Demidicus had arranged that marriage knowing full well that the Aurelia he recognized would have turned the foolish vampire duke into her puppet. But now, with her original soul inhabiting her body, she would be the pawn if he should return—a fate Demidicus considered suitable for the weak girl, he supposed.
Lord Demidicus surveyed the gathering of vampires in the chamber, his glowing red eyes scanning for the only creature he believed could help return the daughter he cherished back to her body. However, a frown formed under the shadows of his cowl when he failed to spot the wretched whelp.
Taking a deep breath, the ancient vampire lord hissed out, “Where’s Olin?”
As Lord Demidicus’s question hung in the air, each vampire within the coven turned, their glances flickering amongst themselves as they scanned the room. No one could find the rodent lich among them. In fact, nobody could recall the last time they had seen him. Yet, none dared speak up before the ancient vampire lord because of their unease and fear of his wrath.
Before Demidicus could rip someone in half to make an example and stifle his growing anger, a portal appeared in the chamber. Two figures stumbled through, landing on their hands and knees as if they had been unceremoniously tossed through. Demidicus paused, his eyes taking in the sight of Duke Lysander and Lady Hikari. A slight, fanged grin appeared under his dark cowl as he glanced at the weak soul inhabiting his daughter’s body.
“Your husband has returned,” he chuckled, observing the expression of dread on Aurelia’s face. She watched as the vampire duke pulled himself up from the ground, his gaze dark and filled with hatred as he looked upon her.
A soft whisper of fear escaped Aurelia’s lips in that moment, “No.”
The Frog
Deep within the castle, beneath the chaos of the gathering above, Vorigan strolled hand in hand with Jason, his smile blissful as his body regenerated—genitals, intestines, and the gaping hole in his chest all mending, while his love contentedly munched on his heart as if it were a precious apple. They were headed to the dungeon cells to visit two friends the frogkin vampire had made during his absence from the coven.
“Craycroft and bearded lady,” Vorigan greeted cheerfully as they approached the cells. “How are you doing down here?”
From behind bars, a gruff voice corrected him. “It’s Gimona, Duchess Gimona Grimmail,” the dwarf woman retorted, her tone sturdy as the chains that confined her.
Craycroft stood up, his chains rattling as he did so. “I thought we had demonstrated that we’re not with the Slaethians any longer! Why imprison us?”
Vorigan shrugged as Jason polished off the last bits of his heart, making the amphibian’s other heart flutter affectionately. “It wasn’t my choice,” he croaked. “Lord Demidicus has returned, and with the mana storm raging outside, he decided it best to consolidate our food.”
“Food?!” Gimona repeated, her voice tinged with horror.
“So that’s how it will be,” another figure remarked from a different prison cell. Vorigan turned to see an elven woman shimmering in gold and silver.
“Where did you get that armor?” Vorigan asked, tilting his head curiously.
Anlyth sighed. “I was waiting to see if Blake was going to return before acting, but it looks like I’m going to have to find her myself,” she said as a golden sword materialized in her hand. With a swift swipe, the bars on her cage shattered.
Gimona’s voice, firm and resolute, cut through the newfound silence. “Mind if we tag along?”
Jason licked the last bits of blood from his fingers as he grumbled, “We’re coming too.”
“We?” Vorigan uttered before smiling with a shrug. “WE!”
The Succubus
Exhausted, Niamh’s wings throbbed with each beat as she navigated the turbulent convergence that pulled her world into this new reality. Yet, the sensation of being in her true body—no longer confined within a mere vessel for her soul—was intoxicating. She felt unprecedented strength coursing through her demonic form, energized by the realm’s abundant mana. Her journey aimed at a distant orb: a small moon nestled within the vast expanse of Völuspá’s atmosphere, which cloaked all its moons in breathable air and boundless mana.
However, the physical challenges paled in comparison to the weight of her thoughts. Niamh was consumed by three relentless pursuits: reclaiming her daughter, finding the dark elf who had captured her affection, and exacting vengeance upon Demidicus.
“Soon, my daughter, I’ll have you back!” the succubus whispered into the void. “And soon, Demidicus, you’ll know true suffering.”
A Dream of Nightmares
Duskara sat at her dining table, which was lavishly adorned with an extravagant assortment of meals, as three child-like skeletons entered the room. This time, she did not present herself as a youthful woman with a kind smile, nor as a haggard old crone. Instead, she was enveloped in darkness, her dress clinging to her skeletal frame. The only visible parts of her were the skeletal hands that protruded from her gown.
“Please, have a seat,” she gestured gracefully to the seats around the table.
The three skeletons exchanged uneasy glances, a silent communication passing between them, before they cautiously approached and took their seats around the table. The air was thick with a mix of opulence and the unspoken tension of the unsettling host. However, this wasn’t the first time they’ve been here.
“We’re dead, aren’t we?” one of the skeletons asked, its voice a hollow echo in the dining room.
Duskara nodded, her bony fingers tracing the edge of her dark gown. “Yes, Rob, I’m sorry to say, you are,” she replied with a sigh that seemed to carry a weight of centuries.
Another skeleton slammed its fists on top of the table, the impact rattling its bones with rage, as the third child-sized skeleton spoke, its voice tinged with accusation and sorrow, “It was Blake. She killed us again!”
“Yes, Yui. But do not view it as the end, rather as an opportunity,” Duskara offered, her voice carrying a mysterious allure.
Jeremy, his bones still clattering from his earlier agitation, glanced up, curiosity breaking through his dismay. “Opportunity?”
“You have two options,” Duskara explained, her skeletal hands gesturing elegantly as if weaving the very choices into existence. “I can transform you into shades, serving in this realm as nightmares under my daughter’s command. If you will, you would rule over domains within this realm as nobles of the Dream Realm. Or, you can join the line of souls that are only now beginning to move through the cycles of reincarnation. I’ll even place you at the front of the line, where you can be reborn, have new lives without any memories of the past—a fresh start,” the Goddess of Dreams elaborated, laying out their possible futures.
“Reincarnation, again?” Rob mulled over the notion, nodding to himself before raising his hollow gaze to meet the goddess. “I’ll take that, please.”
“The same,” Jeremy added, clenching his bony fists decisively.
However, Yui hesitated, her skeletal form motionless as she pondered the choices before her. After a few moments, she broke the silence, asking, “I’d get to see Heather again if I stay as a shade?”
“You would,” Duskara confirmed with a nod, her voice echoing softly in the vast chamber.
Resolute, Yui responded, “I’d like to be a shade.” Her voice carried a firm determination.
“I thought you were over her?” Rob whispered.
Yui shook her skull, her voice resonating with a mix of defiance and resignation. “Never! I should be. I know it’s just an obsession, and yet…” She paused, turning her gaze to Rob’s skull, peering into his empty eye sockets with her own. “Even if she doesn’t feel the same, I’ll always do what I can for her.”
“Then it shall be done. Rob, Jeremy, it’s been wonderful knowing the two of you, and know, I’ll occasionally pop into your dreams from time to time, ensuring they’re always pleasant, goodbye,” Duskara said as they vanished from the dining table. She then turned her attention back to Yui, her form shifting into the kind vestige of a youthful woman, the skeletal figure now gone. “Go upstairs and rest; I have a room prepared for you. When you awake, know you’ll be a shade of a phantasm, a nightmare with your own territory within this realm, Baroness Yui, of Nightmares.”
Yui nodded, her movements tinged with a solemn grace as she left the dining table to make her way upstairs. She disappeared into the room designated for her final slumber.
Duskara’s gaze shifted to the corner of the room, a scowl forming on her otherwise youthful face. “Come out, I know you’re there. It’s rude to spy on me,” she stated firmly.
From the shadows of the corner, Jörmun emerged, his smile wide and unapologetic. “How long did it take for you to notice me?” he chuckled.
“From the moment you stepped into my realm,” Duskara replied, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. “What do you want?”
“I’m looking for our sister, Asherah. Have you seen her?” Jörmun asked, his voice carrying a trace of urgency.
“She’s been posing as a priestess, healing the injured and the sick alike,” Duskara responded, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Jörmun’s expression. “Why?”
Jörmun nodded, his smirk tinged with irony. “She always did take after our kinder mother, a little wannabe Goddess of Life,” he remarked, not bothering to conceal his sarcasm.
“Well, she is the Goddess of Light, as you are the God of Insight—well, used to be. What are you now, secrets, cunning, or manipulation?” Duskara teased, her words playful yet sharp.
Jörmun’s smile faltered, turning into a frown. “War is coming, sister, and the four of us need to come together to survive.”
“Four?”
“Did you not rebirth a child with your own divine essence? That’s quite the remarkable daughter you’ve got. The flesh of an eldritch, the shattered soul of a titan, reforged by your own divinity into two distinct entities, unable to survive without the other,” Jörmun explained as he sat at the table. He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “I have to say, sister, your offspring is quite remarkable, embodying the potential of all three great powers. I’d wager she could do what so many have failed—destroy Life’s, our mother’s system that our dear old aunt, has perverted and ruined.”
Duskara shook her head, her expression one of weary resignation. “That flawed system has kept the eldritch from returning after Death shattered their essence across the cosmos.”
“The eldritch aren’t our enemies anymore. It’s the Ascended that keep using the system for their manipulations of this realm,” Jörmun hissed, rising to his feet.
“Brother, the eldritch will always be our enemies,” Duskara countered firmly, her voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber that seemed to grow with her annoyance.
“If you can’t see the truth, perhaps Asherah might,” Jörmun retorted sharply, his figure blurring as he prepared to depart. With those final words, he vanished into nothingness, leaving Duskara alone with her thoughts.
The Rat
Olin had been wandering the dark caverns of what seemed to be an endless dungeon for weeks. The creatures he encountered were surprisingly weak, offering little challenge as he dispatched them one by one. His undead eyes, immune to the oppressive darkness, detected a flickering light in the distance—a flickering pale blue glow that stood out against the omnipresent blackness. Despite the darkness posing no threat to his sight, the allure of the light was irresistible. Compelled by a mysterious pull, Olin made his way toward the beckoning luminescence.
Rounding a corner, Olin froze. Before him stood a human, the first non-monster he’d seen since getting lost in this place. The human male noticed him, and horror streaked across the man’s face as he raised his fist, revealing that the flickering pale blue light emanated from a lightning spell coursing over his hand.
“Human,” Olin greeted, his voice echoing eerily in the cavern. “You wouldn’t know the way out of here, would you?”
The man blinked, confusion evident on his face. “You can speak?”
Olin rolled his eyes as he approached, alarming the human who staggered back, holding his electrified fist defensively between them. “I’m not here to fight you,” Olin huffed. “I just want to get out of here.”
"R-Right," the human stammered. “A talking rat, not the craziest thing I’ve seen,” he whispered to himself, causing Olin’s frown to deepen as he heard every word. The human glanced up. “My name’s Korban.”
“Olin,” the rat grumbled.
“R-Right, nice to meet you, Olin,” Korban nodded to himself. “To tell you the truth, I saw some kind of crazy writing when I entered this place saying I needed to defeat the dungeon boss to leave.”
With a deep sigh, Olin uttered a single word, “Fuck!”
Death
Death slowly awoke, her eyes opening to a pink and blue aurora that filled the sky—a convergence unlike any she had seen before, emanating from within a world being pulled through dimensions. Sitting up, she surveyed her surroundings, taking in an array of unfamiliar buildings and structures. Though her realm lacked technological advancements due to mana interfering with such innovations, she had witnessed the ruins of several worlds that had joined the Moons of Völuspá. She understood the concepts of cars and electricity, even if they didn’t function in her domain, and she had observed magical alternatives that surpassed some technological innovations.
Regardless, the strange place she now found herself in was less advanced than some of the other civilizations that had fallen into her realm’s orbit. The technology here seemed primitive, yet it was clear that this world was soon to be absorbed into the vast and ever-changing landscape of Völuspá.
As she continued to take in her surroundings, Death closed her eyes momentarily, feeling a presence that bathed this entire world—a presence that made her smile and her dark heart flutter. Opening the endless voids that were her eyes, she whispered softly into the shifting air, “I can feel you, my love.”
Pulling herself up, Death wandered through the city she found herself in, examining everything with curiosity. She was on a quest to pinpoint where Life’s essence was radiating from. Despite her efforts, the exact source eluded her. Nonetheless, she was able to determine where the essence was strongest, guiding her steps as she moved deeper into the heart of the city, drawn inexorably towards the pulsating core of Life’s energy.
As Death meandered through the city, she encountered soulless monsters, grotesque abominations spawned from Magic’s manipulations. These creatures were an unintended consequence of filling the planet with mana to pull it through the convergence. Although they were a nuisance, the monsters panicked at the sight of Death, tripping over themselves as they fled in terror.
Continuing her journey, Death eventually reached her destination. She could have teleported there in a fraction of a second, but she chose to take her time, to survey the world and feel for her love’s presence. However, her path was obstructed by a crude scrap metal wall, with a few titans standing guard on its ramparts.
“Halt! Who goes there?” one of the titans called out.
“Dude, just let her in!” another countered impatiently.
“I don’t recognize her,” the first one shot back. “Look at her, she doesn’t even look human with that cracked dark granite-looking skin and pink hair, and look at her eyes.”
The second guard rolled his eyes. “So what? A lot of people have been having all sorts of strange things happen to their bodies! Remember Susie Richerson? Her skin went all red as she grew herself some horns, and what about that guy who always hangs out at the adventurers’ guild?” he retorted, trying to make a point to his colleague. Then, raising his voice, he shouted to Death, “Are you a monster?”
She smirked, then replied with a calm smile, “No.”
“See dude, just let her in.”
“Ugh, fine, but if she kills anyone, I’m blaming it on you!” the first guard conceded reluctantly, stepping aside to allow Death entry, his gaze still wary as he watched her pass through the gates.
Death walked through the small town nestled within the ruins of the city, observing titans engaging in various activities—some polished and sharpened their weapons, others practiced archery, and a few toyed with a strange device reminiscent of the crystal-lock pistol she had acquired from a lich in the Beastkin Kingdom.
Drawn by a potent essence of Life, she arrived at a building marked with a wooden sign proclaiming Adventurers’ Guild. Inside, the establishment buzzed more like a tavern than a guild. Her gaze landed on a lone man reclining in his seat, sipping a drink. His dark skin was webbed with cracks that glowed like molten lava, and his hair flickered as if aflame.
Approaching him, Death smiled, recognizing the features of her love’s firstborn. “Cronus,” she greeted.
The man raised an eyebrow at her. “Um, the name’s Raymond, though everyone calls me Ray.”