Tsa’rahlitzek, the last surviving child of the conceptual entity Oblivion, greatest and oldest of the imperators, the ancient rulers of the Hells, lay dead, slain by a mortal mage of all things. On the world of Reath fools celebrated, for the demons of the infinite hells had long sought to conquer the fragile orb and never before had such a blow been bestowed on their great enemy.

The wiser of Reath’s great powers fretted and prepared. Great swathes of the Hells now lay undefended, and war always caused displacement and Tsa’rahlitzek’s domain had been vast indeed.

It would have been bad enough if she’d held territory close to Reath in the byzantine geography that made up the plenitude of dimensions that lingered, or perhaps malingered, into the modern era. But she had held the Outer Reaches, the very limits where the Hells bordered upon the Great Void where only Oblivion dwelled.

Without her express permission and effort mortals and even most demons would simply be unable to exist where they were incapable of enforcing such ephemeral concepts as physics upon the void, and all such demons were fleeing as reality itself dissipated into nothing around them.

It was a testament perhaps to just how implacable a will the fallen imperator had possessed that the worlds had persisted even this long now that she had fallen.

The other imperators, her peers if not quite her equals, braced themselves for the worst. Of Oblivion itself pouring into the Hells like a tidal wave, hollowing out and devouring worlds with near impunity as they tried to rally enough to create a new set of borders.

The worst did not come.

For a week they waited, and for a week the sword did not fall, until at last curiosity got the better of great powers that should, perhaps, have known better.

Jr’agenthek led the charge into the expanding void. The Imperator of Order and Light was, conventionally, the strongest of the twelve imperators that yet remained, and, somewhat paradoxically, had been closest to the now fallen Imperator of Shadow and Madness. Both factors that would have easily allowed him to bully his way to the vanguard if a third factor hadn’t guaranteed it; the complete lack of other volunteers.

It was a rare occurrence for an imperator to be astonished. Creatures of that sort of age seldom even managed surprise, the weight of ennui was far too great.

Nonetheless Jr’agenthek was astonished, astounded even, for, in the Great Void that had once been Tsa’rahlitzek’s domain, the imperators found their worst fears made manifest. Oblivion was already deep in the empty not-quite-space, hovering as an amorphous blob of hungry intent over a small shard of reality that was just managing to persist.

It wasn’t eating. That was the first major shock. Oblivion consumed everything in its path, without heed of what it was eating for Oblivion was hunger, perhaps even had been Hunger back before the Old War had even begun, before desperation had compelled it to eat its very identity.

The second shock was the object, or rather set of objects, that Oblivion wasn’t eating. It wasn’t much, just a small shard of stone yet to dissolve into nothingness, significant only because of just how much of Tsa’rahlitzek’s will it must have been imbued with to linger so long, the long cold corpse of a crimson demoness so weak an imp could have overpowered her, and the fading remnants of a mortal soul that was collapsing in on itself.

Nothing of any significance, at least until the moment he saw the demoness’ face.

Divine beings, of which imperators technically counted, had a rather strict hierarchy in terms of power and while in life Tsa’rahlitzek had not been of the calibre that could get away with statements like ‘And let there be light.’, she’d at least have been able to ask why there should be light without fear of reprimand.

In death she was a faded waif, her horns broken, the red of her skin drab and fading into the pallor of pink and if she’d seen a meal this side of the century it would have been a miracle. Often when people spoke of the dead, they talked about how they looked peaceful, perhaps even happy. Tsa’rahlitzek just looked annoyed.

Jr’agenthek did not get long to ponder this strange tableau. A ripple passed through the mass of Oblivion before it extended a tendril in a manner the ancient demon could only describe as tentative and just a little bit sneaky. Oblivion was devouring space itself to reduce the distance it needed to reach.

‘No.’

The thought echoed through the void and something impacted the grasping tendril at speed, becoming just a little bit less in its impact with the end of all things, but Oblivion darted back as if stung.

The imperator had to laugh at the sight. The decaying remains of the soul had swatted away Oblivion’s hand as if they had been an errant child reaching for cookies. The sheer incongruity of it nearly had him clutching his sides.

He wasn’t quite sure who the mortal had been, though he certainly had his suspicions, but it’s behaviour certainly presented an opportunity. For all he and his fellow imperator had had their differences, he had less than no desire to watch her corpse be devoured. With the soul keeping Oblivion at bay it might be possible to steal away her body for a burial or some other death rite.

They’d have to invent one. No imperator had ever died before and for all it had been an ever looming possibility none of them had ever discussed the disposition of their remains. A mistake in hindsight.

Slowly Jr’agenthek drifted down towards his comrade’s body, glancing behind himself to make sure his fellow imperators were still present and ready to intervene.

While Oblivion could likely slay any three of them, all twelve were beyond even its boundless appetite, at least for now.

The Imperator of Order’s approach was even more cautious than Oblivion’s had been, ready to flee at the slightest twitch from the hungry, lightless blob.

Which was why he got blindsided by the fragmenting soul bowling into him with surprising force. A soul, even in the final stages of dissolution as this one was, always presented a considerable store of energy and this one was expending itself with almost rabid violence.

It didn’t have the energy to injure, maim or kill Jr’agenthek but he certainly felt the impact. As another ‘No.’ echoed through infinity. He was pretty sure it was all it was even capable of saying at this point.

“Tenacious little thing isn’t it?” A friendly voice said from next to him.

Jr’agenthek chuckled, turning to agree with the speaker only to let out a shrill scream at the sight of Oblivion that would certainly have ruined his reputation for implacable calm, as befitted his aspect, if his fellow imperators hadn’t fled the moment Oblivion had flickered next to him without warning.

The winner of the Primordial War made a surprisingly dashing figure now he’d bothered to adopt a humanoid form. Ruggedly scarred with skin like leather, he would have been the toast of many an inn or battleground campfire, at least until the moment he opened his mouth. There was no disguising his true nature then, it was a toothless maw, its depth as infinite as his hunger.

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“I am remembering myself again.” Oblivion told him companionably as he continued to just watch the fading soul. “Calm child, I am not going to eat you. Not here and now at least.”

If anything Jr’agenthek looked even more afraid at that statement. The idea of Oblivion not eating something. It defied the primordial’s very nature.

“Why?” He managed to gasp out.

“I vaguely recall it being impolite to eat the other guests at a funeral.” Oblivion answered distantly, “Did I remember wrong?” Most creatures would have put an edge of threat into those words but the question was genuine and for just a moment the imperator felt a pang of sympathy for his ancient enemy.

“No. I just never expected…” Perhaps wisely he chose not to finish that sentence, allowing silence to settle. Strangely he trusted Oblivion’s word. There was a great honesty to its nature, endless nothingness and surcease neverending, he wasn’t even sure it could lie.

Then again he hadn’t thought it could choose not to consume something either.

“I was never very good at creating things. Not even in my image.” Oblivion admitted suddenly, jerking Jr’agenthek from his thoughts. The oldest monster smiled sadly as he stared at the corpse with its valiant defender. “They never once turned out how I wanted them to.”

“Then why bother?” Jr’agenthek asked politely, his own eyes never once leaving his foe.

“To do things I can not. Defying oneself is… difficult. To do it continually a torture. And yet failure and failure. I try to make scouts, I create a ravening horde that nearly eats the food that should be mine.” Oblivion didn’t shrug, but the imperator suspected only because he hadn’t yet remembered how.

There was another long silence after that.

“She was a terrible weapon.” The primordial stated flatly, “and an absolutely dreadful daughter. I suspect I was an even worse father.”

“You miss her.” Jr’agenthek observed softly.

“She was fond of you.” Oblivion continued, ignoring him completely, “and of him.” The monster gestured vaguely at the soul still guarding Tsa’rahlitzek’s hell-ly remains. “She wasn’t fond of much.”

“She was fond of you too.” The demon told him, surprisingly himself with the realisation.

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“I’m sure of it. She would never have known what to do without an enemy, and what other enemy could hope to compare to you?”

Oblivion puzzled upon that for a little while, deciding to change the topic rather than even try to answer that. “I’d be obliged if you killed the soul protecting her.”

“You can’t?!” Sure Jr’agenthek had been impressed by the bravery and sheer temerity of Tsa’rahlitzek’s defender but the idea that Oblivion couldn’t kill it had not even once crossed his mind.

“I owed it a debt that I repaid by not seeking reprisal against it when it swore to kill me.” Oblivion explained simply.

“Huh. So it is him. I’d suspected but I wasn’t sure. Looked like he was trying to fulfil that oath too.” Jr’agenthek mused, finally turning his gaze back to the soul that had once been Erebus, slayer of Tsa’rahlitzek.

“No. Whoever he was he was gone before I got here. There’s nothing there now but defiance for the sake of defiance.”

The demon laughed, just a touch bitterly but with humour too, “A worthy apprentice indeed. It would probably be a kindness to finish the poor thing off at this point.”

Oblivion smiled at that, as what it wanted to do and what it should do came back into perfect alignment. “Then it would not count as harming it?”

“There’s nothing left there to harm.”

With that Oblivion surged forward, returning to shapelessness as it sought a mid-conversation snack.

There was a flash of steel and the mass recoiled, writhing back into the shape of a man as it faced its new foe.

It would be a lie to say she’d been unannounced. She was always there. Always watching. Always waiting. If there were a single being that could match Oblivion in patience then it was the lady with the scythe.

Death slowly shrugged out of her cloak, letting the fabric, old and worn to the point most moths would have declined to eat it, fall away into the aether.

To poor Jr’agenthek it was all he could do not to flee. The Primordial War was a legend even amongst imperators and there were few battles quite so legendary as when Death had sought Oblivion’s neck.

She’d lost. But as he watched the youngest primordial smooth the dent that single blow had left in her small hand-scythe, sharpening it with her nails in the process, he couldn’t help suspect he was about to witness a second round. Then the moment passed as the fading soul began to swirl and bounce around her, it’s ethereal light, which his eyes chose to interpret as blue despite him knowing it was no colour at all, energised by her very presence.

Then, with as little warning as when she’d appeared, both Death and the fading soul were gone.

“She was always overprotective.” Oblivion grumbled, staring with a gluttonous longing at the spot where Death had been. Now there had been a meal worth a war.

Despite that the monster’s gaze softened as he stared down at now undefended body of Tsa’rahlitzek. There was no hunger in it for once as he lowered down to the shrinking fragment of stone.

For a moment Jr’agenthek considered protesting but Oblivion looked so mournful he simply didn’t have the heart as the oldest monster slowly cradled his daughter in his arms. He could see it written on his face as Oblivion grit his teeth to defy his very being for just a few moments as he held her for the first and last time. And he saw the moment as that control slipped and his oldest rival crumbled into less than dust.

Oblivion couldn’t cry. It went against its nature to let something like tears escape it. Nothing could escape it. All that meant was that the sobs wracking the primordial’s chest were dry ones.

Jr’agenthek didn’t pat Oblivion on the shoulder; he quite enjoyed existing. But he did stand there and watch in silent sympathy. Now at last he understood the real reason the greatest monster the multiverse had ever beheld had spared him.

He recalled the many times the battle against Oblivion had looked utterly hopeless. When they’d been outmanoeuvred or not enough of them had made it to the battle in time. He recalled how every single time Tsa’rahlitzek, who refused to fight alongside them, Tsa’rahlitzek who could impossibly survive her father’s inimical touch, would enter the battle like the wrath of the god she very much was and drive Oblivion back into the Great Void.

They’d been forbidden from following, from witnessing the great battles where she would face down Oblivion alone and emerge after an age, exhausted, sometimes even scarred, but impossibly alive. He remembered how after Oblivion had devoured its identity she’d stopped following it into the Great Void.

Now he knew how. Even monsters got lonely sometimes.

*

Pawn promotes to Queen. It was the message that had driven the fallen imperator to her insane attempt to seize Reath itself. It was the first act Oblivion had taken upon regaining its sense of self.

Only two people bar Oblivion itself still knew it had even happened, the rest had already perished. Of those two, one was a minor god, a faded, weak pretender to power already fled back to hiding, and it had far too many tasks and far too few resources and tools to direct towards them. The message’s meaning would go unsought for now.

The other, naturally, was the message’s intended recipient.

The message hadn’t been a subtle one. There was no need for a deep grasp of chess tactics and strategy. Even a remedial grasp of the rules would suffice.

Stop being a pawn. Return to being the most powerful piece on the board.

It would be a quick process, a century at most, maybe just a decade if they were prepared to take more risks than was wise.

Still there were decisions to take. The simplest was what to do with their current identity. It was tempting to just ditch it, fake their death for good measure, and go about collecting every object of power who’s location he had chronicled but not sought over his extremely long life.

He was loathe to do it though. For one the niche he’d carved out for himself carried no little sentimental value.

So the question became where to start. That question had an easy answer at least, and the answer was dragons.

At least three truly ancient specimens had fallen in the final battle with Tsa’rahlitzek, and because that part of the battle had been entirely conducted through portals no one knew which ones they’d been.

So three dragon’s hoards lay totally unguarded… well relatively unguarded, alongside possibly an even greater fortune in actual dragon’s flesh. That alone meant he certainly wouldn’t be the only one hunting.

He had advantages, sheer age for starters meant he already knew where a lot of Reath’s ancient dragons lurked, and surviving through a lot of the more major disasters meant he also knew where a lot of them probably weren’t. Combine that with a significant enough position in the Council of Mages that he got to see incident reports, admittedly with redactions and ages out of date, and he was fairly sure he was the premier expert on the matter in all of Reath. Maybe.

It wasn’t mortal competition he was worried about. While there was always the possibility some lucky treasure hunter or plucky mercenary might stumble across more wealth than they knew what to do with, they’d almost certainly leave the true wealth alone.

Aetheric chains. Magical constructs that did little unimportant things. Like enforce the laws of physics.

Even the least of them had enough magical power to turn a mage into a minor divinity – if they could survive the apotheosis that was – and nearly every first generation dragon had one. Had been created for the very purpose of guarding them in fact.

Three aetheric chains… it wouldn’t make him a power unparalleled on Reath but it would put the beings he’d have to show caution around into numbers he could have counted without taking off his shoes.

Then finally he could fulfil his pact with Oblivion. Finally there would be no more gods.