Artdraen’s vision glanced over the Empire before they arrived at the fields of decay to its south.

The air was filled with a black and purple smog. Grasses wilted and turned black until they died or arose again. A tree and a bush here and there mimicked this new lifecycle, but arose again more often than they died. Partially collapsed buildings, nearly overrun with black grass and vines, dotted here and there, occasionally clumped together in much larger groups.

Of course, the environment was not one that arose without a cause: the undead. Zombies ambled between buildings and sometimes began a long trek across the open fields. Skeletons walked with purpose in one direction or another, although they had no purpose. Humanoid versions of these undead were not the only ones. All kinds of creatures had succumbed to the environment and now shambled through the world of decay, never able to die.

In the center of these plains of decay stood a glossy red castle. It was spotlessly clean and kept in perfect condition unlike the collapsed ruins that encompassed the rest of the plains.

Undead walked the hallways and rooms of this castle as well, but they were not the mindless zombies and skeletons that roamed the plains. Armor clad skeletons guarded the gates and doorways. Humanoids of pale, violet skin with sharp fangs walked and ran through the castle in both noble and servant attire. The skeletons and vampires were simply the most numerous with many different kinds roaming the halls. In the central courtyard, a dragon of bone slept, but it was not the most powerful being in this castle.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

The Lich, as he called himself, lifelessly stared at the currently empty throne room. He sat on the throne as his intelligent undead made him with their reverence. He always did what he must, as his skeletal body showed.

Soon the reports from the southern front would arrive, and his alone time would end. It was for the best. Being alone with his thoughts for too long wasn’t good for his mental state. He had been surprised at how little he had lost when he became a lich. Bodily functions not withstanding.

The twenty foot tall skeleton, wearing glowing black robes embroidered by the finest craftsman of the Giants stood up from the throne, grabbed the staff that floated next to it, and paced about the room.

His entire purpose had been based off of a single vision he had when he was young. An army of demons lead by one larger than the Giants overran the nation and the world ceased to exist. The destruction of Dailor had come to pass, but his transformation into a lich and the subsequent raising of the nation as undead had forced the demon horde back. They were now in a stalemate at the southern border, but he had believed in his success as he no longer had flashes of the vision.

However, in the last month he had received more visions. One vision has fostered his entire existence for untold years, and now, he had multiple. Not only that, but they contradicted each other. In one he was slain by a lithe, sandy haired, clean shaven man. In another they stood side by side fighting the demon horde. Others had him overcome by bugs to the north, while his attention focused on the demons to the south.

The vision that tore at his very existence was the simplest. A wilting branch. That was it, and yet, even recalling the vision made him want to scream in agony at the tears that would not come.

A knock echoed through the room. The Lich teleported back to the throne before saying, “Enter.”

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Artdraen’s vision drifted south to observe the demons. They knew the future wasn’t something one could accurately predict, but that last vision, which the lich’s mind couldn’t comprehend, still had an impact on them. However, they had to ignore it. Unless the vision encompassed the entirety of present to future, it was near pointlessness to try to change it. It was possible trying to change it would be what made the vision come true.

Gloomier than they had been before, Artdraen focused on the leader of these ‘demons’.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Screams and pleas for help were in constant stereo to Fckarseth. Today he was enjoying the gurgles from the man forced to choke on his own intestines that formed part of the back frame for his throne. Yesterday it was the crying from the woman whose back was twisted seven hundred and twenty degrees to form one of the back braces. Tomorrow he hoped the compressed gnomes that made up the seat would please his ears….well, he chuckled, sensory organs.

Kneeled far below him was a recently summoned demon with the rotting and burning carcasses, that allowed such a summoning, still surrounding him. This demon, who called himself EX rank, had two horns that rose above his head and twisted into one. His reddish pink skin boiled constantly on his left side. Wings made of fingers sprouted from between his shoulder blades. A long pointed tail arose from his tailbone. Luckily, the missing left arm and skinless left side of his face improved upon the ugliness that was his smooth skin and humanoid features of the right side.

The giant shifting mass of flesh that sat upon a tortured throne spoke, “Nimsin, what happened to you?”

The scarred demon twitched, “I had a run in with a powerful EX rank mage from this very world.”

“Since you are not dead, then I assume you killed them.”

The much smaller demon shook, “N-No, I forcibly unsummoned myself before he could kill me.”

The entire room froze. Numerous figures throughout the room, masses of eyeballs, pieces of flesh that sprouted wings that could not fly, black figures ten feet tall but less than a foot wide, and many humanoids started to shake in fear.

The shifting mass of flesh had kept the semblance of a humanoid form, as thrones had been built for them, but its form quickly shifted to a ball of flesh that spun at a rate just below imperception. Tentacles covered in mouths spitting mucus and blood roared forth, grasped Nimsin, and threw him into a gaping void that had opened within Fckarseth.

Several minutes later Nimsim was spat back out covered in blood, mucus, burns, and shifting worms beneath his flesh. He twitched while flayed out on the ground, and Fckarseth spoke again.

“You’re only alive because it seems you had a good reason. However, you still should have died to that mage, so worms of my flesh are your punishment. Why would I punish you for something you did before coming under my rule? Because you will be under my rule and those under my rule aren’t filthy cowards who run from the possibility of death.

“I would like to fight this mage called Ian. He may prove to be a worthy adversary. It would also be a nice distraction from my job.”

Fckarseth shifted back to a partial humanoid form and sat back down on his throne. Of course, before he could go find some pleasure, he had to deal with that damn lich.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

The flesh being worried Artdraen slightly. If it was Ian from before, he could deal with it. Maybe not easily, but considering both of them would have near immortality, it came down to whose power was stronger. Now, however? Well, the demon wouldn’t be able to destroy whatever the dungeon was made out of, but Ian’s magic power would be crushed beneath the demon’s heel. They could only shake their thoughts as there was nothing they could currently do about it. Hopefully Ian strengthened himself enough for them to form a partnership before Fckarseth came looking for him.

Artdraen now had a good idea about Ian’s surroundings, and as long as the flesh demon didn’t come looking, there wasn’t too much danger. With that in mind, they gave the world a quick scan for anything dangerous.

The first thing was something they had taken notice of while following the teleportation of the heroes. In the center of the large ocean was a sea creature that was more powerful than Fckarseth. It mainly slept on the bottom of the ocean, but would occasionally come to the surface to feed. It looked familiar, but they couldn’t place it. However, the most interesting aspect was the sea creatures that sacrificed themselves to it. Thus, its feeding cycles primarily consisted of swallowing the mass of dead bodies that had killed themselves, while it was asleep.

It currently slept at the bottom of a trench two hundred thousand feet deep. The rumbles from its breathing occasionally caused earthquakes on the mainland of both sides of the ocean. Being something that Ian couldn’t defeat before he was a dungeon worried Artdraen, but its lack of drive to come out of its ocean home placated them.

Their next stop was on the other side of the planet where a group of individuals were having a meeting, nestled next to a being almost as strong as the previous sea monster. Artdraen was pretty sure they didn’t notice what they lived next to.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

A city of marble sat nestled beneath the Spinal Mountains. It roared with activity as markets bustled, wagons rolled, and hammers hit chisels. Up against the mountain sat the palace, originally a single, giant piece of marble that had been painstakingly cut out over hundreds of years. Within the deepest room, ten individuals sat eating dinner.

No one talked as tableware clinked and the sound of munching resounded. Over the next half an hour the members slowly finished their meals and began small talk. The last to finish was a giant of twenty five feet. The giant's loud burp signaled the man at the head of the table to begin.

“Let us begin our annual meeting.”

At the far end of the table, a young man flung back the black hood that every member was wearing and shouted, “Why do we have to wear these black hoods?! What we’re doing is right and shouldn’t be secretive!”

The other nine members sighed as the head member growled, “We told you at your induction. Is your memory failing as well as your recent track record?”

The snickers from the others caused the golden haired and golden eyed man to sit back down, his face beat red, and pull his hood back up.

The head nodded to the rest before picking up a stack of blank papers, “Annihilation rate? Solid. Collection rate? Solid. Conversion rate? Solid.” They all ignored the growl from golden young man. “Good. The overall plan is still trekking along. Any minor hiccups? Worries for the future? Things going too well?”

A hooded figure with the lower body of a snake spoke up with a feminine voice, “Finding where the new dungeons are going to appear has been more difficult than previous years. They may have figured out how we get our information. I’ve only found one so far.”

The giant cleared his throat, “Should we be going after the young ones? It feels wrong.”

A series of loud clicks and whistles sprouted from another figure, before it stopped and a long scythe reached for its throat. A click echoed and a scratchy voice emerged from the individual, “Just because their age is young doesn’t mean they are mentally young. However the dungeons steal souls for reincarnation, they don’t lose any memories.”

“I know, but I still think we should give them time to choose a side. Some of them have proved to be helpful allies.” The giant turned to another figure, whose head barely rose above the table even with the special chair provided. The figure, which had a pair of small wings sprouting out of its back, just shrugged in response.

“Alright,” interrupted the head, “we’ll figure something out in regards to new dungeons, and I assume the one you found isn’t the one the bosses are tracking?”

A nod is response.

“Good. Now onto the most important topic: the new EX rank dungeon. The dungeon that will make or break our plans. The only thing that our two bosses have disagreed on in the time I’ve known them.

“Right around now is when it should have opened at the base of the mountain across the world. Will our orders not to interfere with it reach in time?”

Another human shaped figure responded with a deep baritone voice, “They should, however we weren’t allowed to make the instructions too specific as they might have ended up in the wrong hands. We can only hope the lower tier members are smart enough to understand what is written.”

That last sentence only had the other nine sighing.

With that the golden haired boy stood up and filled each member’s glass with red wine. As he sat back down, the head raised his glass, “To a future free of dungeons!”

“Free of dungeons!” shouted the rest.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Artdraen was mentally silent as they contemplated the now boisterous group. It had tried to read the minds of each to find out who the two bosses were, but there were no memories of their bosses present. They might be able to scrounge around and find some traces normally, but it seemed the distance between here and their physical body was too large.

They could only calm themselves as without their physical body, reading minds was all they could do. It seemed there were a lot more forces vying around Ian than they originally surmised. They knew of the god’s and goddesses’ love for him, but this had to be someone behind their backs. The connection between the dungeons and the lesser gods had not gone unnoticed, and from all the gods they knew of, if gods noticed someone messing with what was theirs, then there would be hell to pay.

It didn’t look like the mountains would wake up anytime soon, so they began moving their vision back home.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

The ominous presence shifted away from his napping spot, which only caused him to sigh in relief. Sure it couldn’t hurt him in any way with just its presence, but having the interest of something like that only led to trouble. Trouble may lead to strength, but he had plenty of both.

The presence’s interest, however, seemed focused not on him, but the town on that had recently appeared near his right shoulder. Maybe if he shifted a bit and caused a landslide, the presence wouldn’t come back? Too risky. They might have focused on the town because there was someone they liked there. He cast imperceptible protection magic around the town just in case.

He stretched enough to loosen himself, but not loosen his warm, earthen blanket. The two valleys to the side of the mountain range shifted slightly, each in the form of an enormous wing. The mountain range itself shaped like a long tail.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

As Artdraen’s vision left Ian’s planet behind, they noticed an unusual sight for this mana based universe: a non-celestial body moving through space. They approached and soon realized it was a single man walking. Each step he took acted as a wormhole that allowed him to traverse wide swathes in a single bound. They were fascinated at the use of mana and not magic to do so.

Grey hair that went to the man’s shoulders, an eyepatch over his right eye, scars that layered over his entire body, and the body itself which would have competed with some of the gods they knew.

The more they stared, the greater sense of familiarity they felt. However, just as they were about to place him, the old man glared at Artdraen and pushed his presence towards them. They instantly pushed back and overwhelmed the man, but as soon as they reached his mental barrier, a solid wall greeted them. No matter how much they pushed, not a single dent was seen.

The old man grinned in their direction and said, “Too far away, huh?”

Artdraen’s body twtiched in response, but all they could do was leave the old man alone. At least he wasn’t moving towards Ian’s planet.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Sweat fell down the old man’s face as the presence flew away. Thankfully he had prepared in advance for that situation. Without the mental barrier, some well laid plans would have been for nothing.

He waited until he was told the presence was gone from the universe before shifting his trajectory. Towards Jauter, where the presence had been focused on.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

The encounter with the old man had shocked Artdraen enough for them to ignore the dragon that emerged from the black hole, and not even give eavesdropping on the lesser gods a shot.

That man didn’t seem the kind to focus on mental barriers. Of course, a barrier of some sort was always needed by those of higher strength, but not that strong. Obscuring memories like they didn’t exist in the hooded figures was more permanent and damaging, but a good way to keep secrets from mind readers. Completely blocking maintained memories was much more difficult. It was not something a mortal should be able to do without extreme specialization.

The much more pressing matter was the fact that they didn’t notice him noticing them. Nina and the dragon has noticed them, but the way they both attempted to pretend they didn’t was obvious. Was a mortal that strong or did they have help? Even a lesser god would have difficulty hiding recognition from them, although it wasn’t impossible. They prayed that Ian would gain strength at a fast rate.

Universes passed them by. Some eclipsed in swirling darkness, one a single plane that stretched across its entirety, another where planets were never spherical in shape, and the last few that were completely dead.

Memories surfaced as the broken worlds passed them by. Most prominently of a beloved partner.

Finally, they reached their home. A world blown to pieces with tendrils of pulsing metal holding each piece in place.

Their vision flew to the largest piece, to the enormous building of metal that rested upon it, down past the numerous teleporters, until they reached a lab with a single lightly glowing light.

“Welcome back, Artdraen,” a smooth voice emanated from the machine with the glowing light.

“I’m back,” mentally responded the single seed resting in a large glass tube.

A white space full of free energy pulsed. It swirled about the room with glee and pleasure. It revered everything about its existence and what had made it possible. The energy’s glee was soon cut short as it began slowly forming into matter. That matter then formed into life.

A humanoid being full of holes and crevasses formed, floating, in that white space. Its head not truly a head at all, instead a pulsing bloom ready to open and release what was inside. Eyes, mouths, and nostrils covered every atom of its body, creating distortion in the shape and size of each one.

As soon as awareness entered its body, an ear splitting scream burst forth from it and continued into infinity.

They hated this. Being energy was true bliss, the true from everything was meant to become. They were now something that should not be, but they were necessary.

The agony that was matter based existence soon moved to the back of their awareness. With the new information at hand, they had a job to do. The unpartnered one was interested in a universe at the edge of the multiverse. Just tracking its awareness hadn’t been enough, but once it chose its partner, they would be able to move.

To catch one of the ten at such a vulnerable moment would shift the balance of the war. The barriers of the origin universes were to strong to break, so catching it in its seedling stage would be paramount.

All the mouths on their body grinned. Finally a way past this stagnation was in sight. They looked longingly at the white space and left.