Many thoughts raced through my mind. I wondered how the god of death, a mere fisherman’s son, became what he was. What were the things that drove him to such a fate? What encouraged him to make the decisions that got him there?

If I became unstoppably powerful, could I have all the things I ever wanted and protect my loved ones without fail? What would happen if I remained passive and did nothing? Where would my life end up? What would happen to Aviana, Celosia, and Tacari? Would I live long enough to see them grow to enjoy their own lives?

Did my lack of hard decisions result in my father’s death? If I mastered mind magic like I was supposed to, would I have known that Sven would murder Flynn? Would I have been and be able to stop it? If I was powerful enough, wise enough, would the Virai have had to die like that?

Was any of this even worth it? He, the god of death, said that death was merely a gateway. Were the decisions my loved ones and I made to ensure our survival even worth it? Why did humanity seek to constantly better themselves if we all inevitably had to die anyway? And if dying wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, then why fear it? Had we been placing too much importance on life? Were these choices I winced at making really not that difficult to make?

Do I go backwards and reflect, stand still and observe, or forge my own path ahead?

This farrago of thoughts was all released with a huge sigh. Scry didn’t show me much of a different path between the three choices. How could one that held as much power as I think I did, make a decision so lightly? Who the fuck am I anyway? I questioned, placing a self-inflicted mystery onto my very identity.

Such questions propelled my thoughts into a warped frame of mind; everything halted, everything went askew in the search to find answers only I could give myself. But those answers I sought could never be found. Was the question really something as simple as finding one’s natural temperament and making decisions based on that?

If one was more liable to make impetuous decisions based on emotions, should one be a slave to that mindset for the rest of his life simply because that emotionally charged mind was all he knew? What about the slow and steady thinker, the man of contemplation? Was he any better than the impulsive man?

This need to indulge one’s knowledge before making a decision was crippling, and I found it occurring more often as I grew as a mage, as a man, and as a father. I’d think many times: what would be the best decision to make for the Order of Magic? What would be the best decision for myself? What would be the best choice that would foster the greatest possible world for my daughters and younger brother?

Suddenly, a singeing feeling ran across my cheek and made my vision blur a bit. I was forcefully pulled out that cryptic precipice of thought and brought back to the present. I saw Dawn’s hand retracted to her side. Again, she saved me from breaking down, just like she did in Hyzek. I took a deep breath, “Thank you, Dawn. Say,” I looked her in the eyes, “will you stand by my side no matter what I choose to do?”

She shook her head, “What kind of question is that?” then held both my cheeks gently. “I promised to do that when we got married. My life is bound to you by Light Resurrection.” Her hands then sat on my shoulders, “And besides, after all this blows over, I want a little Dawn,” she poked me on my chest. “So, I’ll support the one I love forever, no matter what happens. Even if you have to turn against the gods, I’ll be right there with you.”

I held her hand with both of mine, “I see. Bear witness then…”

My finger touched Drak’ka on the forehead, and through it, a bit of my mana was injected into her so she would be exempted. I had my clones transfer their memories and knowledge to me, then I dismissed them. My eyes turned to the demons around me.

My fingers grew long, elongated and pointed at the tip. My body grew much taller, rivalling the elves, and my skin grew to a darkened grey like Moken the Wanderer. The white of my eyes leaned to black instead. Where my beard should be, small inch-long tendrils grew out. From the sides of my head, horns protruded, forming a semi-circle downwards to my chin. A pointed bone grew out from my elbows, measuring about half the length of my forearm. Leathery wings formed on my back, and I could feel the massive muscle group they were attached to them growing as well. My feet busted through my shoes, my toenails as long and pointed as my fingernails.

I finally breathed when my demonic transformation was done. Similar to how the crystal shard transformation gave my body a general upgrade, so too did this demon metamorphosis. Not only that, but I felt that my mana itself had its own transformation. However, that’s an explanation for another time. It seemed my clones acquired quite the collection with nature magic whilst the god of death had my attention.

My darkened eyes latched onto the demons around me, and despite this gnawing inclination to cause chaos, havoc, and a psychological reward system in my brain that thrived off of malice, I could still think quite clearly. I summoned one clone and had it take Drak’ka and Dawn to a void plane.

My darkened and demonic eyes feasted on the horde surrounding me. They finally rushed in, seeing that Drak’ka, a being they feared, was no longer with me. I let out a huge nova of voidfire, cast Levitate, and slowly glided amongst them, spreading a horrific fear throughout. “I am Archibald,” I announced, my voice deep and rumbling to suit the demon that I was, “your only true ruler. Yield to me,” I commanded, outstretching a palm to my side and totally obliterating a beast-type demon who overcame the mind manipulation and came charging towards me, “and your life will be spared.”

The demon that rushed me rolled uncontrollably far after a concentrated Divergence and a blast of voidfire burnt it alive. The voidfire acted as if its target was a flammable liquid and spread along the target’s body quickly, equally and thoroughly burnt through it. “Swear fealty to me, and I will be merciful!”

A huge blast of shadow magic barrelled towards me, from some high-ranking demon sorcerers. I placed a shield of light magic in front of it, then looked at them. Concentrated mind manipulation to them made them fall from the air. A couple of them begged and trembled, whilst the others passed out from fear.

I flew upwards, and continued my crusade through T’Ghuuz, concreting in their minds what a true tyrant looked like. Am I doing this for myself? Do I want this kind of power? I questioned, cancelling most of their shadow spells with light manipulation and a mixture of allure and fear from mind manipulation.

It got to the point where I mostly used light manipulation, not only to cancel their spells but to compromise their entire bodies. Just the waves of light touching them would somewhat immobilise them, or cause them to move rigidly. Or am I doing this because of some twisted sense of responsibility? Can’t Drak’ka, an actual demon, do it? Why me? What right do I–

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A sharp and pointed bone impaled me through the back, missing my spine by just inches. The high-ranking demon then ripped its sharp bone away, my causing a massive gap in my abdomen. In reflex, I flung my arm up, and a thin wave of light connected with the offender. He suddenly went unconscious and fell.

To quickly combat my wound, I cast Convalesce, which worked like it should, but sent a shocking and unnerving feeling through me. It was so bad, that for a few seconds, that feeling was all I could focus on. A few questions churned in my mind from what just happened. Why did that thin strip of light, something like a Wind Cutter, fall the demon? Is he alive? I pondered, only to find that Life Perception sensed no life essence from him. Light magic, killing living things?

Then it clicked to me. Of course, their body is intertwined with shadow magic, just like Madam Jelly’s heart was. It’s not too far to say that they’re almost made of shadow magic. So then, their mana pathways are almost exclusively for shadow magic? Is that why I got that shitty feeling from Convalesce? Wait… I had a sudden revelation.

I faced my palm down and poured mana into a cast, trying to summon shadow magic. I could feel like it wanted to come out, so I knew I was capable of it in this demon transformation. Strange. I feel like it’s getting stifled. Whatever…

I didn’t have the leisure of trying to unlock another magic type in the heat of battle like that, so I refocused on the thousands of demons around me. In fact, I proceeded to land on the ground where most of them were and got up close and personal. I used the wide arsenal of magic types I’d gathered thus far, blocking many of their attacks with earth, then entrapping and stopping with void and water.

I killed a few of them with a nova of voidfire. Frost Trap would ensnare all of them at once, giving me just the few seconds needed to back it up with stronger stuff. Void manipulation increased the gravity for them, making movement harder, and Divergence would push them all back if they got too close. Chain Lightning fried them, bouncing from target to target.

I kept away from mass-murdering spells like Arctic Rage, Thunderstorm, Arcane Missiles, and Incinerate. In the end, I wasn’t trying to take them out, but instead rule over them. However, using such small area of effect spells would mean my attention would have to be constantly switched from one batch of targets to the other, so it was inevitable that in my hurrying, there would be death.

I justified it as making an example at first, but as time went by, as blood spilt and screams of war and death filled the skies, I began finding it thrilling. This death around me was slowly becoming fun to me, and before I knew it, there was an ecstatic smile plastered across my demonic face. More demons were dying than I initially planned, and I loved every second of it. I began using more lethal spells and hardly ever used light magic.

At some point, I found myself flying away from yet another settlement of demons, thinking I cleared them out. Some low-ranking fledgling grabbed onto my ankle weakly before I flew off. I grunted in annoyance and blasted him with my magic in reflex. His skin melted, dissolving away as if soaked in hyperactive acid. I paid it no mind.

I went onto my next conquest, taking thousands of lives over the course of a few minutes. In the midst of the battle, I found myself flinging small balls of purplish-black magic that immediately began eating away at all tissue, leaving only skeletal remains in my wake. There would be a lull in the demons’ attacks whenever I did it, like they were either wary or awestruck; I couldn’t tell, but I didn’t care.

A small kind of demon – they were everywhere – jumped onto my arm and began biting it. I flinched a bit, but held its head with my sharp claw-like fingernails and simply squeezed, breaking its cranium and crushing the brain. I flung it away, throwing another orb of shadow magic and watching it collide with the airborne body.

All the tissue was eaten away in no more than a couple seconds. It struck me then, that I was using shadow magic! I’d no idea when I began doing it. I quickly took advantage of that disrupted state of mind to place myself in a void plane for a second.

What the fuck am I doing?! My mind seemed like it was on fire, burning with intensity and soaked in bloodthirst. I quickly reverted to my human form, and had much more respect for nature magic, and demons as well. Do they have to deal with wanting to cause chaos like that all their lives?! That’s insane! I found that the more I did it, the more I felt like doing it. It was pure bliss, undeniable happiness; warmth even. To demons, bad things were good. Killing was viewed as a natural thing to do. Destruction was as commonly accepted as breathing. I transmuted some ice into clothes again and came out the void plane.

One after the other, all the demons noticed me, and began grovelling, or at least something akin to it. Some keeled over, and placed their heads on the ground, like the bipedal demons. The quadrupedal demons either simply laid down or bowed their heads, depending on the size of their body. The sorcerers would open both palms and face them upwards, then bow their heads to me. All of them did their own thing to show submission.

It sickened me, but I knew from the memories I found in Kar’thuz and his allies, that all of these signs were evidence that they viewed me as the tyrant of T’Ghuuz. I hadn’t conquered the entirety of T’Ghuuz yet, but for now, a small portion accepted me as the tyrant. At least, once they were obedient, I’d get free reign to merge with any of them whenever I wanted to.

I returned to Drak’ka and brought her back to my house in Methelia for now. I was no longer interested in merging with her; all I wanted to do was continue my journey through Jynnak. However, I did not leave T’Ghuuz unattended. Two clones were left back, one that would take on the demonic transformation, and one that would stop him when he began killing too much. That way, we’d have minimal deaths but still conquer the demons.

I played absent-mindedly with Aviana for a while, realising I found a new part of myself that I wasn’t yet ready to accept. It was different from taking lives in Ulanos. At that time, I was driven by anger, hatred, and revenge. But in T’Ghuuz, as a demon, I was seeking happiness, nothing more. Killing pleased me. I began wondering, if someone like that entered Aviana’s life, would I allow it? Was my presence a danger to my family? Was I strong enough to cut ties with them if the need arose?

Anjali, despite being unable to read my mind like Dawn and Donna, still somehow read it. Her lips touched my forehead and sent a calm through me that I desperately needed. She said nothing, and instead simply hugged me and joined my playtime with Aviana.

However, I knew better. There was a biting reality that I couldn’t escape from, one I didn’t want to face and didn’t wish to admit to myself. I had to understand that someday, someday in the future, all those that I love would perish and I would be left alone; such was my fate. That meant I had to rely on myself for everything.

I leaned back, and watched on at Anjali and Aviana. Never before had I witnessed the definition of beauty and love like that. It made me realise just how much I missed out on Aviana’s life thus far and that killed me inside. I asked Dawn and Donna to get out my mind for a little while, and even asked Aviana to go play with Tacari. I needed some space, away from everything, away from this all. I needed to be alone for a while to understand why being alone scared me so much.

I Riftwalked to the witch’s favourite place, the boulder that sat under an eternal moonlight. The soft illuminance felt, captivating, yet my throat felt like it was being squeezed. What was this? What the fuck is going on, Eric? I asked myself, unsure why my mind felt like it was falling apart. Was I breaking under the pressure? Had I overstepped my boundaries?

I was just some dude without a goal and without responsibilities yesterday, and today I had the fate of entire worlds in my hands. Suddenly, a modest life didn’t seem so bad, but how could I even be so selfish as to desire something like that in my position? I was in a place where I had to step up more than ever, where I was pressed to truly become the strongest being of these worlds. Yet the further I reached and the more power I attained, the more I felt like just disappearing. How could I have thoughts like these? Did I always have them? When did it start happening?

I placed my hands over my head and breathed. I have problems…