“I know you’re mad at me, but you don’t understand what you’re asking.”

Alainn’s voice pierced the nothing. Where was he? What was he? Snippets of memory flashed, specks of dying light in a bottomless abyss.

“Modifying your stats is one thing. Altering the game’s system code is an entirely different beast.”

Modifying? Code? The words slithered away before he could catch them. They were important though, weren’t they?

“I wasn’t sure I could do it, but I did, and I did it for you. Because whether or not you believe me, I believe in you.”

Those words filled him with a blooming warmth, although he couldn’t fathom why.

“Still, altering the core code is stupidly dangerous. As soon as it goes off, you’re going to light up like a Christmas tree. Then, the overseer AI is going to hunt you down and delete you. Deletion, Peacock. There’s a reason Zenith Flight hasn’t altered core code, and that’s it.”

Peacock… yes, his name had been that, hadn’t it? The code…. More memories, clearer this time, floated by. Veins of energy, expanses of pure color. He needed to do something important. What was it?

“That’s why I locked the core orb. It was just too dangerous, unless your character died, and someone was trying to hack you… in which case, it’s your decision. I never want to be controlled again. What kind of hypocrite would I be if I let you? Don’t answer that, just… it’s your choice, now.”

The voice stopped, leaving Peacock in a growing swirl of memories. Arianrhod’s always smiling face, Cavua’s gentle eyes, and Oncian’s calm.

Viseral’s sharp claws, the sound of a clubbed tail hitting Cavua’s skull.

The nothing shifted, going red.

Crimson pulsed as the torture he had endured in Zenith Flight’s cave flooded in. Alainn’s tears, Ferret’s scream as Nex cut him down, the crashing voice of Zenith.

I remember now. My purpose.

He’d hung onto the idea of revenge so long, yet now it rang hollow. He didn’t need revenge for what he’d become. His trials gave him the strength he needed. He merely needed to ensure no one else became what he had.

Peacock summoned every ounce of will from the aether, coalescing it into his essence, then shooting it out into the unknown with a single command—hack the core.

Color thrummed into existence. Not the rainbow from his memories, but all colors, in all hues, there and not there in parallel. With it came a flood of information. All of his world, laid out in infinite detail. Peacock felt his mind expand as it tried to encompass it all. It failed. Sense ran to nonsense, truth to relative concept.

Stolen story; please report.

No, focus.

Peacock drew back, fighting against the flood, a leaf in a hurricane. He reached out, seen and unseen, flipping and twisting the code he needed. The strands were infinitesimally small compared to the entire world’s fabric, but those threads were more than enough.

No sooner had Peacock finished his task than the flood of information halted. A shock ran through his essence as something closed in like a vice. Peacock jerked away, enacting the first part of his plan a hairbreadth away from true oblivion. The Overseer knew what he’d done.

Peacock slammed into existence. Not there, then there, himself yet more. His pulse hammered against his chest, his breath coming in gasps as he took in his newest surroundings.

The sound of a thousand blades clashing rang out loud enough to make Peacock’s head spin. It seemed he’d arrived back in Zenith’s void with a rather angry Nex-Serpent.

Peacock grinned at the creature; the fear of the Overseer drowned in the flush of new power.

Along the serpent’s enormous length lay every node which made it up. Each burned bright as a sun the size of Peacock’s torso. Each one was an easy target. With a thought, the suns snuffed out. The serpent burst into metallic flakes. The creature Nex had become was done, but Peacock was not.

A glowing helix, barely visible in the silver snowstorm, floated up and away. Peacock was on it in an instant. It tore in his claws, unspooling into nothingness. The physical form of Nex vanished, and without the code which made up his player essence, he would never be Reborn in the world again. The fact brought with it a cold satisfaction. Such a monster didn’t deserve a place in this, or any world. None that hurt others in Zenith’s name did.

Smoke rushed into the void.

Speak of the devil.

Zenith shone blindingly bright in Peacock’s new sight as he teleported back into the realm he’d created. His nodes had grown so bloated there was little definition between them. To an ordinary dragon, or the old Peacock, he was an impossible foe. Now, he was a nuisance.

The nodes went dead, followed shortly by Zenith’s Rebirth helix.

Peacock scoffed into the emptiness. “You called me Little Death, yet I was more than enough of a reaper for you.”

With its creator destroyed, the abyss reformed into the cave tunnel they’d left, the smell of smoke lingering in the air.

Peacock turned on his heels, shooting off to the place of his last kill before he’d run into Zenith. Nothing remained of the turquoise dragon. No glitter, no helix. It seemed Rebirth essence disappeared quickly after a character’s death.

Peacock snarled. His claws ached to rip apart the data of every dragon who bowed to Zenith’s barbaric ways. Zenith believed it was the natural order of things. The powerful taking over the weak. Peacock saw it as an excuse. Everyone could have resisted as he did, as Alainn did. Giving in proved only one thing—they wanted what Zenith offered. Such creatures deserved a place in the world no more than Zenith did, but with their essence shuttled off to character creation, Peacock couldn’t touch them.

For now, Peacock would have to whet his appetite on the dragons he’d not yet killed. Peacock’s mind lit up with the coordinates of every dragon in M and M, another thread he’d twisted in the core. The coordinates were spreading out, whether from Peacock’s attack, or some knowledge of Zenith’s death, he didn’t know. Either way, the dragons were running.

Let them try.

Peacock smirked, picking out a dragon which hadn’t yet cleared the cave tunnels. No amount of distance would save them from their fate, and thanks to the status Peacock had applied to each one, no amount of starvation, wounds, or otherwise, would end their misery until he closed in.

Whether or not they realized it, true death was coming for them in the form of a small Phase Dragon.