Besieged on all sides, Scott lay motionless, suspended in the vast emptiness of space as flickering notifications appeared before his eyes. He couldn’t move or speak, and the unfathomable pressure from the almighty beings surrounding him threatened to obliterate his very existence. His sanity teetered on the brink of collapse.
“I didn’t approve this meeting for a mortal to be bullied,” a powerful yet calm voice echoed in Scott’s ears. At that moment, a familiar warmth washed over him, one he had no memory of, but which his body instinctively yearned for. The crushing pressure assaulting him vanished, and he felt a gentle touch on his head.
“You’re only worthy of looking at one throne at the moment. Your existence will be erased should you gaze at anything else,” the voice instructed, gently guiding Scott’s head toward a massive throne in the unfathomable void. Countless flames, appearing as broken shards, hovered above the throne, each one vying for the right to be the sole flame occupying the seat of power.
The Authority of Madness acknowledges your presence!
One of the broken shards flared with excitement as Scott’s gaze fell upon it. He fought against silent, seductive whispers urging him to look elsewhere. Though he had no idea who was holding his head, he could sense they were not inferior to the assembled gods in the council.
“Administrator, I knew you’d interfere,” thundered a voice so powerful that Scott’s eyes shattered and his eardrums exploded. Blood burst forth from his ears and eyes, but his wounds healed as quickly as they were inflicted. The words spoken were incomprehensible to him—only vibrations so intense they felt like they would tear him apart.
A being shrouded in unfathomable darkness hovered over Scott at the center of the formation. “I’ll repeat myself: I didn’t approve this meeting for a mortal to be bullied,” the administrator declared, their voice a calm counterpoint to the chaos.
“And it’s our fault that a miserable abomination like that is being tortured by our authority?” another god countered, their voice dripping with disdain. “What’s a little pain, anyway? At least, it won’t die,” the god added, utterly devoid of empathy.
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the council as other gods voiced their support.
“Enough with the chatter,” a third god spat. “I have no interest in spending more time than necessary on this. Administrator, inform that creature of its choices,” the god demanded.
Every word spoken caused Scott unimaginable agony. Not only did he not know the gods were conversing, but His body was also mutilated and instantly healed in a brutal cycle, each vibration like a hammer blow to his mind. The sheer force of the vibrations was enough to keep him teetering on the edge of madness.
His visage had turned hideous, his eyes brimming with venom as he stared at the only throne he was permitted to look at. Never in his life had he felt more powerless, and he knew there was nothing he could do about it.
You have received a proposal from the Council of Gods!
Relinquish your rights to climb the tower Compensation You, and your companions—should they join you, will be granted rulership over the starting areas. Immortality. Wealth. Authority over the starting areas. Your descendants, and those of your companions, will be considered and given priority for lesser god positions should they qualify at any point during their lifetime. The Council also guarantees that your existence will not be eradicated by beings from higher or lower dimensions.
Do you wish to accept the offer? Yes! No!
Scott’s brow furrowed as he read the notification, his mouth opening in disbelief. At that moment, the calm voice resonated in his ears once more.
“Everything stated there is binding,” the voice assured him. “You need not fear deception, nor the council reneging on their offer. There are no hidden terms, no additional clauses to worry about. However, if you accept the offer, you will be left alone to do as you please, regardless of your choices. You and your companions—should they choose to join you—will be forbidden from ever ascending beyond the starting areas. Break this rule for any reason, and your existence, along with that of your descendants, will be erased. This, I guarantee you, as the administrator.”
Scott’s eyes trembled. He had known that whoever held him was powerful, but he hadn't realized it was the very person in charge of the elusive tower.
“And if I refuse?” Scott asked, his question voiced mentally. He knew the administrator could hear him, but silence met the voidweaver’s words.
Scott returned his focus to the offer, his mind racing with questions. This must be why they suddenly granted us clemency, he thought. Accepting this is like confining myself to the starting areas for all eternity.
“How am I supposed to decide with my hands bound?” Scott posed another mental question. Almost instantly, he regained control of his right arm. He moved it toward the notification, but suddenly froze, unable to proceed. The administrator’s touch vanished, replaced by something far more sinister. His mouth was forced open as a withered hand clawed its way from the depths of his being. Scott’s jaw tore wide with a powerful howl, the sound swallowed by the endless void. A figure in yellow erupted from his grotesque form, which writhed as it reformed and shattered in an endless cycle.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
At the center of the council, beside the enshrouded form of the administrator, the figure in yellow stood tall.
“I told you the perpetrator would reveal themselves,” a god guffawed, their flames flaring brighter than before.
“Is this the best the gods of this dimension can do?” a ghoulish whisper echoed across the void. “Pathetic.”
“So, it was the Yellow King,” a god muttered, a hint of scorn lacing his voice.
“We should have known the Great Old Ones were involved,” another god remarked, indifferent to the figure in yellow’s arrival.
“First Cthulhu’s Spawns, and now Him that Slept Beneath,” a god grumbled.
“What are the Elder Deities even doing?” another god roared, fury radiating from their being. “Aren’t they supposed to keep the Great Old Ones in check?”
The council was soon rife with heated discussions, gods debating among themselves as the flames representing their essence flared. The figure in yellow remained motionless, as did the administrator, who stood a fair distance away. The gods continued to express their opinions and displeasure until the administrator finally broke his silence.
“Are the Elder Deities aware of your presence here?” the administrator demanded.
The figure in yellow pivoted toward the being enshrouded in darkness. From the unfathomable gloom that cloaked the yellow king, a multitude of bestial, razor-sharp teeth emerged, as if they were smiling—more than a dozen pairs in total.
“At the appointed time, this dimension will be mine to claim. Your pitiful attempts to confine a vessel are naught but useless efforts to stall the inevitable. Your annihilation has been foretold, and I shall cleanse your corpses as this reality succumbs to my will,” a multitude of nefarious voices declared in unison.
“We are neither mortals swayed by threats nor are we averse to war,” a god responded, their voice booming across the void. “Your vessel was simply given a choice—one you denied it. Do not mistake our benevolence for weakness.”
“Oh, the infamous arrogance of the new gods,” the nefarious voices laughed in unison. “Like those before you, you will learn that there are beings even gods cannot contend with.”
“Arrogance or not, you are not qualified to rule over the Tower of Champions,” the administrator retorted. “I will show you no respect should you force your way in here.”
You have rejected the offer!
Almost instantaneously, the powerful entities who had previously disregarded Scott’s existence turned their focus on the mangled form of the voidweaver, his right index finger lingering where the notification had once been. Assaulted on all sides by the sheer immensity of these unfathomable beings, Scott’s body endured a continuous, torturous cycle of mutilation and repair. Yet, unlike before, where pain unimaginable to mortals had assailed him, the voidweaver’s visage now embodied madness itself, reveling in every moment of the agonizing cycle.
The nefarious voices erupted in joyous laughter once more, their echoes resonating far into the void. “Some of you were once mortals too, but it seems you are now drunk on the feeble authority you possess. A great upheaval awaits you all. These little inconveniences you look down upon will someday be your undoing.”
The flames coating the thrones flared in rage, and a mighty force suddenly expelled from one throne, racing toward Scott’s mangled form. But the administrator’s enshrouded form reappeared in front of the voidweaver, nullifying the attack.
“Gods are barred from killing Champions—I need not remind you, Visbos. I will not tolerate another violation of the rules. Do not force my hand,” the administrator declared.
“Hastur—no, you are but a fragment. I will no longer permit your existence within the council. Should you choose to assault this dimension, then as the guardian of the Tower of Champions, be prepared for war,” the administrator pronounced, and the form of the figure in yellow instantly shattered, though the nefarious laughter lingered.
“Gods, you have seen—the proposal has been rejected. I believe the council is now satisfied, having identified the instigator behind the upheaval,” the administrator declared.
Several gods hissed, while others grumbled, each voicing their displeasure at the situation.
“For eons, I’ve said this: we can’t avoid this anymore. We must exercise our might against those flagrant old relics, or they’ll keep challenging our right to rule,” a god declared. “This is our era; they’ve had theirs, and I have no intention of yielding.”
“I still don’t understand why we can’t simply eliminate the source of all this,” Visbos roared, the mad titan’s fury directed at Scott’s delirious form.
“Do you think anything changes if that abomination is killed?” another god spat, their voice almost mocking. “Eons of stability seem to have eroded your ability to grasp the complexity of the situation.”
“Do not insult me,” Visbos grumbled. “Vespesis, it was you who blessed him with your illusionary—”
“I’ll kill you all,” a voice, barely a whisper, echoed within the council. Deathly silence gripped the void, as in the days of primordial chaos; this time, however, the unfathomable beings—who had seen everything there was to experience—couldn’t speak. They were shocked by the presence of a voice that had no right, no authority, to speak within their presence.
“…I will bring ruin to everything you have built.” The whispers echoed once more, and massive fissures cracked Scott’s form. The voidweaver teetered on the verge of destruction, blackened tendrils squirming across his mangled body. His eyes, glistening like jewels within the abyss, flickered with the yellow sign. The formless mass within his chest stirred, essence from the nihilistic zone leaking into the void.
“Like I was slain in the Godsfall…”
In an instant, an array of almighty attacks raced toward Scott, the very fabric of space crumbling under their weight. At the same moment, the flames hovering above the thrones blazed furiously, morphing into gigantic stars, as portals opened at their centers.
The attacks reached Scott in a flash, and the delirious champion smiled in the face of destruction. But as space-time distorted, the almighty assaults vanished. The administrator had enlarged to a form massive enough to consume the entirety of the council. The portals within the blazing stars disappeared, and two colossal eyes, seemingly shouldering the universe itself, appeared within the void.
“Do not test me!” the administrator’s bellow extinguished the stars’ might and light. “My authority is absolute within the tower; I do not permit any of you to descend!”
“How dare you restrict us after hearing his declaration?” a god retorted, their anger palpable.
“Administrator, we may have overstepped, but if that abomination is an incarnation of that betrayer, you of all beings must understand the gravity of this situation,” another god said, their voice calm and collected.
“I will not repeat myself,” the administrator replied, his tone brooking no argument. “This meeting is over!”
The stars instantly lost their light, and the darkness shrouding the administrator engulfed the entire void, dispelling the thrones. Scott’s form rapidly healed, but the lunacy in his expression festered; the voidweaver muttered barely coherent words. “…At the end of it all, only madness is eternal.”