Joulo leaned back in her chair and stretched her stiff arms out wide with a yawn. Dozens of hundreds of games and deals as she met with almost every single god at least once. Her table was covered in cards used, forgotten, and traded alike as the items they represented were scattered across her domain. It had been a fun few years as she got to know her friends all the better.

Myriad perfectly maintained the environment, as they tended to every single blade of grass with utmost care. Tyliana was definitely the oldest of them all and her words of wisdom showed it. Even the addition of Trench made the games all the better, as he guaranteed no unnecessary death occurred, so no one was burned at their table. Together, their games went so well the world flourished. New types of wheat grew in nearby farming communities, new champions rose up, and for once the north was no longer forgotten and ignored.

It was a simple friendship that everyone enjoyed. Joulo couldn’t contain her smile as the queue of gods dwindled down to just one. With a smile, she turned to greet the last person, only for her pleasant mood to vanish. The new god had already placed a card on the table.

A black card with crimson font. It read ‘Demonic Influence’ and the table bowed under its weight.

“Call me Mask,” the new god said as he twirled another card in his hands. “I’m not here for any proper game, but just to inform you of what’s been happening beyond your notice. Call me a debt collector of sorts.”

Joulo just stared at the god as he took his seat. His features gave her a headache to look at, his details fuzzy and indecipherable. Red skin, hair, and a business suit were all the details she could be sure of. It didn’t make sense, since all gods could be seen by each there. There only way it was possible is if-

He put his second card on the table. Behind Joulo, Myriad gasped as they read it aloud.

“Systematic take over. Is this a coup? What type of god plays a game but doesn’t even bother-”

Joulo didn’t hear the rest of that sentence. Mask’s eyes drew her in like a lure. It was familiar and yet alien. There was a depth and deep-seated hunger she knew well. Yet there were more, colors and swirls of life she had never seen before in these hollowed halls. Mask differed undescribably from the other gods, and his hypnotic gaze only reinforced that thought. When he finally spoke, it had caught her by surprise.

“I have no plans of taking your domain or playing a game. I am simply here on behalf of another.” His voice was measured, but strained.

“And who might that be?” Tyliana spat, with no desire to hide her annoyance.

He had a cocky grin on his face, but in pain in his eyes. “I am the god of the godless, and I am just here to tell you there is a war with corrupt forces in your domain. Win or loss, my job here is done.” With that, he stood and left, briefcase in tow.

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The dungeon watched as the white mage, and his two friends walked through the dungeon. They should be delvers, or invaders, or challengers, but yet they were none of those. They were unbothered by the dungeon’s existence as they gave themselves a tour without System’s gaze.

“You know, it’s quite nice to be back and see how much changed. Though looking at the health of the trees, it would see my efforts didn’t take root fast enough.” He was wrapped in rags and didn’t show of any skin.

He looked at the various trees and knocked on their trunks. He was calm, and it infuriated the dungeon. It was smart, and capable, and not something to be underestimated. He didn’t know what these people were, because they clearly were human-shaped if nothing else, but that didn’t stop it from seeing them as food.

A tree branch under tension sprung to life as the mage bent down to inspect the next tree. Every tree sprung to life to attack, but paused when they saw the mage didn’t react. Spurts of blood shot out of his severed wrist, yet he grinned. His severed hand laid on the ground at his feet. His blood didn’t pool as it soaked into the ground. Thick ropes of gore connected his hand to his body as his fingers twitched.

“You know, I figured you would have realized me and my family are unkillable by now. Our tenacity is our greatest strength, oh and I guess some of the stuff we inherited. Guess those magic artifacts we have can be a pretty big help sometimes.” He was calm, like the severed hand was the least of his worries.

“Do I need to grind the forest to nothing? Better to just start fresh with new seeds, right? Just give me the word,” A goon pleaded. He had an orange hue to his skin, and eyes that shined like stars.

The mage shrugged. “You know, I think that you might just be right. The dungeon isn’t taking us seriously. No big monsters, no paragons, no attempt to get rid of us. So I think we show it what we are made of.”

With a nod, the man stepped forward, tears streaming down his face as they glowed. Beads of sunlight so bright they refused to be affected by gravity as they orbited around his head. Flames sprung from his fingertips as the surrounding forest burned under his gaze- under the heat of his tears.

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Stars of embers glowed against the blackened sky,

A forest burned, its flames reached higher in reply to my outcry.

I had to act, no time to count rhymes, no time to spy.

The slimes were immune to heat, but far to slow,

They would never catch up to this foe.

It had to be me.

Through the trees, I could see the man who tethered his hand with ropes of viscose viscera.

He was the leader, but the master of flames and sunlight was the threat.

So without regret, I dove through the smoke to take them by surprise.

I was the lord of smoke and flame; None would escape by cries.

He couldn’t see through the smoke, but his tears saw,

He turned just in time to escape a lethal blow from my maw.

But I had evolved to be stronger, my body pierced his shoulder clean through.

His blood stained the ground as it clung to my feathers like glue.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

I survived a single attack, in pain- but could pursue.

“I may not have been born of this family” the mage of flame spoke,

“but don't think I'm a joke. The queen in blue gave me a gift.”

The color of his blood began to shift.

It turned white, as the blood that clung to me burned bright.

“I see the fire that animates us both, but you seem quite gutsy.”

He snapped his fingers, and our blood seared with heat.

I fell from the sky like a sack of meat, as he took to a knee.

I saw his soul as it compared to my own,

I was a candle that lit a dark room, a place for study and song.

He was a storm of fire that tore itself apart as it shattered bone.

My song was delicate, his like a gong.

Powerful and confident. Direct. Stronger.

Our souls touched, and I couldn’t survive any longer.

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Four gods watched the table warp and decay,

Rot spread as wood groaned as they backed away.

Tyliana screamed in surprise as her hand burst into flame.

It was the card of an immortal bird without a name.

His eternally reincarnating soul burned low,

As the flames continued to grow.

She dropped the card of the bard,

And ran for water, unwilling to add to the graveyard.

In the immortal realm, nothing ever burned before.

No god had experience playing with fire.

They were speechless. Unable to act.

Unable to rhyme.

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The mage of flame fell to one knee and was out of breath as the others walked right by him. Their leader of white spoke simple words of encouragement as he continued his journey past his supposed ally who couldn't walk, unconcerned with the state of the pyromancer. Left alone, he collapsed against a burned-out tree, drained of power and blood loss.

Meanwhile, an order was given and the children converged.

She was the Empress who built her empire with the blood of others. The pyromancer was easy prey would become a sacrifice for her kingdom. His screams were short lived as the children of her hive tore him apart and let his blood soak into the roots of the trees he burned. His life would not go to waste, for it would find use to repare the damage he caused.

With one delt with, she turned her focus to the real threat, the survivors that made their way to the mycelium fields. The last two were the cocky man of white, and a woman who had been quiet so far. She stumbled on her feet and had a hard time keeping up with the mage whose undead constitution kept him going. This woman was not a born necromancer, but another adopted into the family.

“Are you ready to serve the family and earn your place?” he never looked back.

“Yes,” she said it with something in her hand, a pipe that she kept giving deep breaths. The smell was distinct, but not terribly different from the herbs Shimmer had a tendency to exhale. It was a recreational poison.

“Good, because the corruption is strong in this area, the poison fills the air and, with just a push, it should become catastrophic. I just need you to dig up-”

He never finished her words as, through the haze of spores, a tree snuck up on them. Echo, with Shimmer in tow, had woven a shield of reflected light to become invisible. He revealed his presence only with a swing of his branches that cleaved the mage in two.

The Empress saw the blood fly as leaves scatter. His body split, but she could feel the magic. She listened as she heard his heartbeat- heard as only his torso hit the ground. His legs still stood tall as threads of rope connected to his torso. She knew it well, death magic, for she used the same.

A silent thought, something deep in her subconscious spoke to her- a stray idea. ‘He’s the one that taught you.’ She wanted to listen closer, but the eviscerated corpse had more to say.

“Oh my, seems someone has a new trick.” The words were muffled as his face was pressed into the dirt, but he pushed himself up onto his arms while his legs walked over to him. “Maybe you don’t realize what I am. I am a necromancer, and I am the puppeteer that binds. My body is my puppet, and so long as I have blood to act as strings, I will continue to animate my own corpse. So while I would like to see you try to grind me to dust, I have a better idea. I want to see that happen to you.”

The woman had snuck up behind him with a dagger in hand. She slashed quickly and removed his arm clean from the shoulder. It dropped, ready to slump to the ground, but those veins of necromancy held it aloft. They stretched out like the legs of an insect and pushed his torso off the ground as it scuttled over to his legs. Before even tending to himself, the mage went on the offensive and threw his arm at the tree, missing entirely.

The others didn’t see, so they laughed laughed, but the Empress saw the truth- she shouted to take cover, but Shimmer was never the fastest slime. The severed hand plucked her from her space behind Echo as she flew into the waiting arms of the women.

“Shimmer,” the Empress spoke through their dungeon bond. “These people kill completely and truly. I can not hear the melody of the Sky Lord, his chorus has been silenced. We must defend ourselves and our home. I know you hate the power, but you must be willing to hurt them to defend yourself.”

“I know.” There was an unmistakable resignation in her simple words. “I have felt alone for a while, and I always wanted friends to help take away the loneliness, but these people will only add to it. They won’t ever be my friend.”

The light of her body changed and warped. A deep purple and green swirled like a potion being formed in her gelatin body. Poison replaced the acid that defined her existence. She was ready to fight back.

The woman who held Shimmer glanced back to the boss for confirmation. His voice boomed with malicious joy. “You really think I didn’t know about your title, Shimmer? Do you really think that just because mortals can’t hear a dungeon’s thoughts that we were the same? Maybe it just dawned on you, but we aren’t mortal. So Sophia, go ahead, kill her, and let’s get this over with.”

The damn woman held Shimmer tight despite the poisonous cloud that clung to her. She brought shimmer up to her eye, as she looked deep into Shimmer. She must have seen the nightshade, the deep purple petals that had formed, and yet the woman took a bite. Her lips turned blue, and her eyes milky white, yet she took another bite.

She ate Shimmer, and she ate enough poison to kill an army.

The Empress watched as her veins turned black, and the mana in her body burned. No, not the mana, this woman had no mana. Her soul burned as she converted the poison into mana. Her body filled with enchantments as she grew in power. The blood that ran through her veins was a cocktail of poison, and death."

“Quick, my children, we must act,” The Empress yelled. All heard her call, but they were already too late. Never did she dream someone would harm Shimmer, let alone do so when she was in her defensive form, one that only hurt those who would hurt her. They knew everything about Shimmer, and brought a perfect counter.

“I see now that I made a mistake. I thought we could easily defeat our foes after the first one fell, but I was wrong, and for my sins, I will pay, but not you, my children for your only sin was to listen to me. The bird paragon may never return. Shimmer may be the same, but we are different, you are different, for you are my children. We may fall, but no death is absolute for us, so we must become the wall that ends their momentum. The voice of the world speaks, and our mission is simple, we must steal back Shimmer. We will not fail, for our empire is too great.”

Her children marched, but the Empress had a bad feeling about it all. The woman, empowered with the life she stole from Shimmer, reached out to Echo and pulled him from the earth. Roots tearing as they tried to cling to stone before she snapped his body like a twig.

That’s when the empress knew this was not a fight, but a slaughter. Her children would die, maybe permanently, but this was no way to win. At least, she realized, not with herself as queen.

So she took her own life. Mana cycled into the dungeon, and a new queen, a new empress, was born.

This new Empress had an idea.

She needed to find an old friend who thought he could hide.