Randidly walked out across the rough edged hills to the shadowy figure standing and watching the training area with a few ideas in his mind for who could be waiting for him. The air felt hot and still, suddenly heavy without the animating force of his dome enlivening the area. The one that made him the most expectant was a young version of the being who would become the last remaining Nether King, who Randidly would eventually free.

Perhaps its consciousness had managed to follow the subtle and not-so-subtle changes to the timeline and had something to say. Obviously, the Nether King did not feel the need to help Randidly without getting some benefit in return, but he might nudge him in the right direction if developments were proceeding dangerously.

As far as Randidly could tell, they both had their sights set on Elhume. A common enemy aligned them.

Another part of Randidly resigned himself to a second confrontation with Nether King Bleak Sky. That twisted Nether King seemed to possess enough spite to linger and wait for Randidly, despite the spreading reach of the war between Aether and Nether. By this point, any injuries he had suffered had probably recovered.

Superficial ones, at least.

Yet as Randidly settled five meters away from the figure, his brow furrowed in confusion; the Nether King waiting for his presence was neither of those two. An unfamiliar figure with the leering head of a horse and a bulging hunchback twisted and spat to the side. Its voice came out as a croak. “You are the one that is called Nether King Hungry Eye?”

“Yes. Can I help you with something?” Randidly’s senses tingled. Ripples of separate, cascading consequences congregated in the limbs of the figure. The Dread Homunculus gathered and categorized the information without overheating his brain, but the awareness was too new to understand the connections. He couldn’t quite recognize the patterns playing out in front of him yet.

“That depends.” The Nether King rumbled. When it next opened its mouth to speak, it instead began to cough. It took a few seconds of hacking before it released another quivering wad of phlegm and continued. Its eyes were red and bloodshot. “They call me Plague Rider. I am a Nether King of honor and you made a deal with our forces. So long as you concern yourself solely with small matters within this area, we have no business together. However, should you ever feel the need to break your word and intervene in the war…”

Plague Rider’s eyes narrowed even further. The consequences squirmed into the Nether King’s limbs, influencing every aspect of his body language. “You owe me a debt, Nether King Hungry Eye. On his first mission to earn achievement, my great nephew didn’t return. After speaking the Nether Kings who came out to punish Malloon… I learned he died by your hand.”

Randidly straightened slightly. Within Sulfur’s new form, in the depths of the Domain he had inherited from Helen, the pure aspect of rot he had absorbed gave a small quiver of recognition. He sucked in a breath and then released it.

For a few seconds, the silence stretched between them. The Plague Rider’s smirk widened, showing wide, flat teeth. “You aren’t going to deny the allegations?”

“I suspect it won’t make much difference to you. I can see in your eyes the resolve to die.” Randidly felt his left hand twitch with another feeling, directly in the palm. The lingering mark of his exhaustion, still present in his life. He had fought and won, over and over again, finding himself very high up along his Path. But that meant that every choice he made now had consequences.

He walked forward but created counter-currents with every step.

“Keh. I appreciate you, Nether King Hungry Eye. No, I envy you, how you so boldly harken back to the old days, before we all bent the knee to the Arbiter.” The Plague Rider spat again to the side. The longer Randidly stood in front of the being, the more he could smell decay and filth lingering about his body. More than the feeble, rotten garment, that pulsing aura of degeneration covered him. “Yet the Nether have grown to our dominance through rigorous adherence to the system that governs us. That has saved us from ourselves, from the whims of Nether Warlords and the silences of Nether Priestesses. You cannot be allowed to exist, to weaken all we have created.”

Randidly’s eyes shimmered, briefly becoming luminous. All the incendiary threads of this Nether King burned in his vision. He picked apart the patterns that animated his Nether. The confrontation loomed and he welcomed it. As the glow faded, he spoke casually. “You know I remained here to pursue an advancement within myself. Now that I have achieved it, you cannot defeat me.”

“Normally, perhaps that is true. But do you think I miss the way your Nether Core is behaving? Perhaps this is a chance… but first, will you listen to a story of mine?”

This unexpected request earned a frown from Randidly. The Dread Homunculus urged an immediate attack, but he restrained the impulse. Each step a barb, each pause, an eddy. “A story? Why?”

“Because I plan to die in this small corner of the world, no matter how our fight ends.” The Plague Rider shifted its weight from one leg to the other, widening his stance in the process. The cloying scent of a carcass sinking into a swamp grew stronger.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Randidly’s eyes blazed, even as his Nether Core continued to tremble in his hyper-quick rotations. The feeling of heartburn continued to gnaw at his breastbone. On the other hand, the Dread Homunculus watched this new threat with glee, relishing the chance to demonstrate its prowess.

In the end, Randidly inclined his head. He would listen to the strange Nether King’s story. Especially because he intended to kill it.

“I am of an old line amongst the Nether Kings, who can trace their names and history back through the great exodus, taking the chance on this unstable, isolated universe. Our Warlord was cruel… but fair. Heh, I would even go so far as to say he had no choice to be cruel. My line, especially… well. You can tell from my current state.” Plague Rider gestured an arm, ending in three thick and blunt fingers. Randidly wondered if they were swollen due to the strange sickness afflicting the other Nether King, or whether they had always been so heavy. The Nether King clicked his teeth together. “Without cruelty, we could never have mastered the significance we bear. We could not handle the Penance.

“In times of war, the price of our unique ability is small. We fight with our rot and plague, hurting our enemies. In the early, chaotic years of the Nexus… we prospered. We were perhaps one of the wildest and most savage factions. However, due to the advent of the Arbiter… we no longer had enemies to face. Both internal and external threats shrunk. The poison we bore in our veins… it could only attack the bodies hosting it.”

The Plague Rider pulled at the ragged garment covering its body. The old cloth ripped, strangely damp and rotten. Beneath it, its body pulsed with leaking sores and twisted muscle. Its shoulders were monstrously huge and bulbous, inflated pumpkins weeping atop a stout midsection. The Nether King clicked its teeth again. “I was the strongest of my era, with the most accolades and control. So when peace began to suffocate us, I discarded my own name and received the ancestral title of Plague Rider. The one who bears the plague. With that name… came a terrible responsibility. At their fifth birthday, I would force the young offspring of our family to eat a bit of my flesh. To seed the plague into their bodies and test their potential.

“My first attempts… did not go well. It is a balancing act, you see. To read the capabilities and proclivities of the children and figure out how much they can bear, how rancid a piece of myself I can give them. And plague and degeneration… well, it is an area that covers huge stretches. There are slow wasting plagues, there are feverish viruses that burn through flesh, there is the tang of death and the horrid, persistent sickness clogging the back of your throat… I eventually learned to measure the child, but to reach that point I watched many children hollowed out by what I bore. I… no foe has killed as many of my blood as I did.”

The scent of rot grew stronger. The wounds across the Plague Rider’s body continued to tremble and weep. Randidly pressed his lips together, beginning to understand the pretense of the conversation. But he didn’t interrupt.

Because he could read the deep significance of every word the Plague Rider said. This was a Nether magic he had seen in small doses, but never in such a deliberately aggressive manner. To share its own personal story, its history, this Nether King received a great amount of leverage on the present. Randidly noted down the flow of energy around him, compelling him to remain still and allow the story to finish.

And also he noted down the terms Nether Warlord and Nether Priestess.

When the Plague Rider shifted, its fleshy body shifted and rippled. Most of its bulk didn’t even seem to be a part of its true form, just bloated flesh from years of bacteria’s furious efforts within the confines of its skin. “Of this generation, the Nether King you killed was my greatest success. A favored nephew. One who would someday grow to be the head of my family.”

“...one who might someday take the burden from your shoulders,” Randidly sighed.

The Plague Rider shrugged. Across its bulky stomach, its skin ripped. An indeterminate black liquid dribbled out onto the stone ground. “Perhaps. But now we will never know. Now, we must content ourselves with pondering endings and epilogues.”

Congratulations! Your Skill Homunculus’s Monstrous Tenacity (P) has grown to Level 845!

The two faced each other in silence for several seconds. Moss formed on the ground around the Plague Rider’s feet, creeping outward from his quivering legs. A few seconds later, the moss turned wizened and twisted, like puckered skin.

Congratulations! Your Skill Homunculus’s Monstrous Tenacity (P) has grown to Level 846!

…

Congratulations! Your Skill Homunculus’s Monstrous Tenacity (P) has grown to Level 860!

“So,” Randidly spoke slowly. The pain in his chest due to the Nether Core remained constant, but new aches sprung up across his limbs. But meanwhile, from the depths of a Cloak of Utter Night, ten thousand phantasms snickered and chuckled. “Shall we fight?”

“Oh, child. The fight has already begun. And you have lost,” The Plague Rider shook his head, almost sadly. “But you… I can feel the density of your Nether. And feel that you stand on the cusp of a new plateau with your significance. Hah… had the era been different… I would have been proud to call one such as yourself Warlord. But now… you are a Nether King, nothing more, and you need to be removed.”

Randidly tried not to lose his temper at how little the Nether King in front of him understood the current situation. “It does not need to be like this. Your story-”

“Just as I always have, I will determine the completion of my own story,” The Plague Rider’s face creased in fury. His mouth opened, wider and wider, those flat teeth that had been acting as a gate on his fetid breath allowing the noxious fumes to seep out. The smell grew more nauseating. “Raise your weapon, boy. No matter how weakened you have become… You need not die without a fight.”

With great care, Randidly flicked his arm. Acri, in its new, smaller form slithered and straightened to form a spear. His body continued to complain, but a mass of darkness smothered that sensation.

Congratulations! Your Skill Homunculus’s Monstrous Tenacity (P) has grown to Level 861!

The homunculus had been built; it feared not disease or time.

“Fine then,” Randidly glowered, but already his face became a shadowy disc, housing two emerald lanterns. An impenetrable cloak of darkness settled around his body. As he expanded his image, his emotional sea stirred. “We fight.”

His new image leered forward, eyes gleeful as it continued how to use this fool’s death to advance.