Alone, Mah-Jung waited.

Waited for the moment of connection.

He looked past the clouds of the Dao, following the scent of burning flesh, and the piles of corpses that reached through even the realm of the spirit.

He traced the lines of pain that thread themselves through the land, the limitless souls screaming out to be saved.

And when he found what he sought, he tried to keep himself from shivering.

He had told himself, long ago, that when he saw his Master again, he would not show fear.

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But even though his body was safe behind the walls of Ramor-Tai, to look upon the eyes of the Chosen avatar of humanity was to look upon strength itself – as infinite and unknowable as the cosmos the true Gods had been birthed from.

“So, he has gone?”

“Into the Talia Badlands, my Lord,” Mah-Jung answered quietly, eyeing the door to his chamber. “With the Planeswalker beside him.”

“Ori’un…yes. That will complicate matters. Your failure to ensure Sheloth dealt with him has been noted, Talon Jung.”

Mah-Jung bowed his head in shame. “I…I accept my punishment, my Lord. Should you wish me to pursue, I will be ready.”

“No,” came the answer from the darkest depths of the Dao – coming from a place far beyond safety, far beyond darkness, and far beyond light. “Your battle with him was enough to show us just what he has become capable of. The subjugation of the Cog will require a more…personal touch.”

Mah-Jung dared to raise his head, feeling the light-wreathed talons of his Master touch his face with searing, blinding heat. He was looking on the Master of all Masters – the man who would be the Master of Mankind soon. Nothing would prevent that, not even XJ-V. No matter how strong he was, how resolute his spirit, he couldn’t beat the avatar of Yuwa Himself.

“You shall remain where you are and await further instruction, Mah-Jung,” the High Eagle said. “It is time for me to stretch my wings.”