The wider world was in disarray. Nobody had expected for anyone to ever be able to overcome the force of a circle lord of the Infinite Hells. They were supposed to be unbeatable for a reason, a way for the gods to ensure that their enemies never came back to haunt them. Nobody dared to say it, but the truth of the matter was that if somebody was strong enough, they could treat the Hells like a buffet of essence, propelling them to the heights of power. The worst thing was, nobody could do anything about it.
“Why is that bastard Angranor not responding?” Cyron screamed, slamming the butt of his weapon down onto the ground.
The pristine white meeting space of the gods resounded to the echoing shockwave, and ripples crisscrossed the air. All of the gods had thought themselves safe, after Zyra had dispatched the angel to the Infinite Hells. However, nothing could be further from the truth. Not only had the Outsider defeated the angel, but he had actually defeated the guardian of the first Circle of Hell as well. Never had something like this happened throughout all of history, and for the first time in their lives, the gods felt the spark of fear.
Nobody within this universe could threaten them, as all of the other Tier 100s were constrained by chains of oaths and alliances, neutered to the utmost. Only Angranor was free from such strictures, but he was stuck in the Hells. Besides, none of them wanted a universe spanning war, after what had happened with Sarnakthros. However, Jonathan was unfettered by those oaths and alliances, and with his potential, he could one day rise to threaten their rule.
“Angranor only plays a game of his own making,” Malaraxia responded. “He enjoys our frustration. I say that we should use some of our contingencies, before things grow out of control.”
“You mean all those favors we have with the Outer Realm Hegemons? What could they even do?” Valantir asked, his form shining with bright white light. “The Hells are the domain of Angranor alone, and he does not answer to our beck and call.”
“We must be able to do something,” Malaraxia said once more, the only sign of her rage manifesting through her tightening of the grip on her spear. She could have crushed a planet with a simple press of her palm, but in this place, nothing happened.
“What can we do? We created this monster, and placed him in the one place that we could not reach,” Cyron responded, his blazing fury still visible. “What fools we were.”
“What about the System?” Tantus said, the normally silent god of Creation suddenly finding a voice. “It is not pleased with the Harlowe boy’s progress. It despises disorder above all else. It would only take a simple slip on my part to allow it to briefly control the reality of this world.”
“Jorhalon, that is madness!” Zyra shouted. “The System is the plaything of forces beyond our ken, and they would love nothing more than to claim this universe as their own. Only the Primal Laws stop that from coming to pass.”
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Do we have a choice at this point?” Tantus answered. “It might not look like much now, but the presence of an unbound being of Divine potential is a threat that we cannot afford to ignore. With the way that the Hells are constructed, he could ascend to our rank far quicker than we might expect.”
“Very well,” Valantir responded. “How exactly should we do this then?”
“Contact the System,” Cyron sighed. “It seems that we have little choice. Time will tell if this will save us, or damn us for all eternity.”
In the Oozing Bastion of Mire
Slothari was a being who preferred taking things slowly. She had spent eons cultivating her own monstrous body, gaining power from her connection to the ooze of this realm. Each of the circle lords had a unique talent that set them apart from the rest, and hers was that of mutability.
Her true form was a swimming pool sized mass of quivering slime that looked barely sentient, let alone capable of complex thought. However, she had created thousands of forms which she could assume in the blink of an eye, ranging from simple humans to facsimiles of dragons. Sitting at the Peak of Tier 3, she was by far the most powerful being in this realm, as she personally sought out anyone who dared to ascend too close to her own lofty heights. Not that it would matter of course, given that she had advantages that were almost impossible to overcome.
Now however, after so much peace and complacency, fear had managed to worm its way into her heart. As she reclined within an oozing pool of muck in the center of her palace, she opened up the notification that had plagued her mere days earlier.
A new challenger has risen to power within the Infinite Hells!
Granath, guardian of the first circle has fallen, and his killer is on a mission to slay every last circle lord in existence. Jonathan Harlowe is a being with impossible strength and potential for his lowly beginnings, and the utmost care should be taken with him, or else he might achieve his quest.
None of the circle lords had ever felt fear before, secure in the belief that they were the perfect beings for their own Tier, so inundated with righteous ego and power that they thought themselves akin to demigods. And for most of history, that was what they were. Now, they were nothing more than obstacles in the way of a man who could one day rise to eclipse them all.
Slothari was a cold and calculating individual, and rather than wallow in despair, she spent her time preparing her realm for the inevitable invasion. Unlike the fool Granath, late ruler of the previous realm, she was not fettered by the constraints of the ambient mana. Mire was a Tier 3 realm in truth, and she could go anywhere within it.
Of course, she couldn’t attack anyone that was too much weaker than her, because of the laws of the System, but that hardly mattered when she had a legion of fighters under her control, lured by the promise of power. Even with her only allowing a person to reach a maximum level of 280, there was still a lot that could be accomplished with the lifespan of a Tier 3 being. As such, many of her followers were Expert ranked with their core pathway skills, and some were even Master rank. When Jonathan Harlowe eventually showed his face within this realm, he would not like what was waiting for him.