“Gut him!” Screamed and cheered thousands of spectators.

Within an arena made of marble, lined in gold and weaving plants, Malan watched the fights through one of Foy infiltrators seated comfortably with hosts of other people.

The masses were begin entertained by spectacles of death, or as they put it, Honor duels. Many were taking place, a dozen or more at once, some were in stalemates while others had clear victors. The crowd cheered for each victory, the air shivering with their howls of glee, and joined with the victors letting out their own roars of triumph.

None of the heretics were aware, or maybe didn’t care, that these Honor duels were being used to cull the population. A sick twist and a necessity, one Madness had warned Malan of from the very beginning.

There wasn’t any way to maintain a huge population of followers during the end times. There were too many factors that required resources, to which the followers couldn’t provide enough Devotion to cover.

Wargain became aware of this after three months enduring the endless night. But it was too late, he’d spent so much on feats works, on wonders that Malan himself was delighted to see.

Above the open arena was a stone ceiling for a sky.

One would first think they were underground inside an extremely spacious cavern. One mined out and transformed into a lush underground forest; they would be wrong.

After contending with open frigid air; Wargain had saw it more effective to encase the lands of life in great stone enclosures. That way the warmth of his pyres would stay undisturbed and less costly to maintain. With the use of Ascendants and the god architect Titar. Wargain had achieved his vision, creating fortresses of monolithic scale that sheltered acers upon acres of land. The roof of which was supported by hundreds of equally large pillars, carved into the appearances of Ascendants using their hands to hold the roof.

Malan loved it, not only because he had a soft spot for carved art, but because of immensity of it, the awe it brought, the wonder. He adored it even more with how much time and resources it took from Wargain. But it had worked, the area the spy resided in was comfortable, and with the large pyres providing light, it was as good as an illusion of normalcy that Wargain could achieve.

Problem was, even with the great works done, all of the stone miracley worked and covered in sigils to add greater protection. It wasn’t enough to cover the Devotional drain that was taking place keeping everything warm and the plants thriving. There was simply too much, Wargain had to consolidate his holdings else continue bleeding away his reserves.

Thus the culling, not that anyone within the Orders called it that. No, they claimed it the trails of ascension. The training and raising of the most excellent to fill Wargain ranks within his Ascendants to fight back the workings of chaos.

The mortals ate up that lie with such eagerness it left Malan feeling repulsed. They were, and still are, desperate to believe their pantheon had everything under control, that the nightmare scenario would pass, normalcy would return, and once more their gods would conquer the realm.

There would be none of that, those days were gone, this empire soon to be with it. And even if the Order still had the delusion of conquest, what was there to conquer? Three months without the Suns warming care had reduced the realm into a lifeless waste. Ice and snow, silhouetted with the remnants of castles and villages, was its face now. There wasn’t anything worth taking, or able to sustain a people.

In short, they lived in a dead realm.

But the heretics don’t know this, housed within their great works of stone, surrounded in lush foliage, they’re unaware of the desolation outside. Of lands only the dead wander about peacefully.

In a twist of fate the realm is Malans. Only his Shadows could travel about the plane of snow and take in the desolation. That and Wargain had completely relinquished his hold on the lands. It was all up for anyone to take, if there had been anyone willing to do so that is.

Everyone was holed up in their strongholds of protection, trying desperately to outlast the winter and its gnawing touch.

‘And the real test hasn’t even begun yet.’ He thought while watching another wave of dualist enter the ring and begin slicing each other to death. The crowd cheered, not only because of the spectacle. No, but what it also entailed, fresh meat, the only source left in Wargians domain. A prize many were eager to earn, at least for the Kolune.

With his Lifeweaving eyes he could see Lisoe hadn’t changed the stomach of her Kolune. At least not the commoners, those higher up the chain of command, of Purity as they were calling it, had though. The work was similar to his own, if rushed and cheaply done. The changes were just enough for the Kolune to gain nutrients from fruits and vegetables on the same level of the Heon and Verm. Just the process would take longer and cause the Kolune to feel, bloated, unlike his own followers who could eat crops to their hearts content and not be phased.

The Kolune in the arena, seated away from other races, had not received any of that. They still required mostly meat, and from their fraying forms, many weren’t getting enough supply of it. Hence the games below had an overwhelming supply of fresh combatants, since the winners got a portion of the meat from the defeated.

Looking at said meat eaters in the stands with Heon eyes, Malan could see the hungry stares. Many were eagerly awaiting their chance in the ring, both to test themselves, their Purity and skill, and gain a satisfying meal.

‘I despise you Wargain.’

His rival had effective solved many problems with these trails. But the grandest was keeping the mortals entertained and preoccupied. They were blind to their crumbling empire, believed their gods had the situation well in hand.

‘Just a little longer.’ Malan thought, soon the heretics would be forced to see the reality of their situation. And it wouldn’t just be because of Malan fellow gods; the Dreamers would be making it happen.

He knew this, because the monsters were waking, sluggishly, listlessly, yet all eyes were beginning to open. None had broken out of their winter cocoons yet. But it was getting close as portions of himself watched from a shrines and Shadows situated near dens. He sent visions of the sights to his fellow gods, gaining their attention.

‘Finally,’ Ryan sent. ‘I can’t last much longer.’

For the past two months the Verm had been in a constant battle over the Underrealm, converting as many of Wargains followers as he could to keep the fight going. But the flaming god and filled the tunnels with his Kolune armies, and Ascendants, the latter couldn’t be converted, and the former took longer and more power to do so.

Besides, both forms were better suited for war than the small Verm. All of this combined meant Ryan and been losing badly; forced into a game of hiding and planned skirmishes. Even with Malan and Bronduff aid the tide was heavily in Wargains favor.

‘I agree with Ryan,’ Foy sent, the group of them sharing their thoughts together. ‘Wargains purity games are making it impossible for my informants to rise in the ranks without risk of being killed. Plus, its rather suspect for a Heon to want to fight in an arena full of Kolune.’ She had followers that were the latter, not many though, most were Heon since that species favored her.

‘No, not yet,’ Derrin pitched in. ‘We still need time, my pupils have so much more to learn.’ Followed with Rimean adding in. ‘They’re ready for what is to come, don’t mind Derrin ramblings.’ The moment it was mentioned the Dargown, who had been monologuing about the lessens yet to be taught went silent for a parting breath.

‘Ramblings?’ Derrin sent back. ‘These are important materials to try and survive against gods.’

‘Which they will never achieve,’ Rimean sent. ‘Without the correct amount of Devotion powering them, they will be crushed regardless of the knowledge they hold when directly facing a god.’

The two began to argue after that, their sendings mostly ignored as Bronduff sent to him: ‘Are we ready for this?’

Malan glanced through his following of Shadows, witnessed works only the dead could do in the frigid cold. His living and dead had been busy, the sanctuary under the Reaching peeks, nicknamed the roots of Wonder, had spread far.

It wasn’t only to keep his religion dispersed underground, there was another part equally important.

Once the Dreamers were on the move, the land taken by hunting beasts. Then would come to safe zones, a month later of course. But they would come, and they would randomly be placed on the continent. It would be a race to reach them, and what better way than to have a maze of tunnels underground. His Shadows expanding it and awaiting the time to aim for a zone.

At this point its reach was the same as the Underrealm. Save most of the tunnels weren’t meant to be lodged in. They were thin, wide enough for two men to walk shoulder to shoulder. Nothing like the Verm tunnels where whole hosts could match through comfortably. In another month the root network would rival Wargains in reach, and hopefully by then, no matter where a zone fell. He could quickly ferry his following to a zone using the underground, away from the monsters and cold above.

‘We’ll be ready,” he sent to Bronduff, followed with the mental picture of the network from a top view looking down. It best showed the progress his Shadows had made. ‘Our people will have a way to a zone, once they appear.’ After it would be a rush to get them marching through the waiting portal as fast as possible before heretics arrived.

While Madness had clearly stated Wargain wouldn’t be able to smite the zone from approve, his following could still overtake the place with numbers and slaughter Malans own people.

‘It will be over soon.’ The Kolune stated, the sending gaining the attention of the other gods.

‘And then get boring,’ Foy sent back. ‘Offer to the Celestials that this induced sleep we’ll be partaking in will make the passage of time instant. I rather not dream for two hundred years.’

‘Then your prayer has been answered.’ Malan replied, his attention increasingly being pulled to the Dreamers. ‘The induced sleep as you put it, isn’t sleep at all, its meditation on a level mortals can’t reach.’ He sent the details to them, since why not?

When the time came, they would purposely stop themselves from thinking, slowly thought by thought they would still they minds till all that remained was an awareness. It wasn’t something mortals could do, not quickly anyways. Gods had supreme control over their minds, weren’t plagued by the constant random activities a mortal brain was saturated with. Theirs could be guided and controlled to a fine degree. And it was this skill that would allow them to experience the passing of time in mere moments.

‘Fascinating,’ Rimean sent, which was unsurprising, as a healer he understood the importance of a clear mind. Followed with Foy sending the sounds of a sigh. ‘Well, that’s a relief, never shall I be bored out of mind again.’ To which had Malan realize that due to Foy profession, effectively waiting for the right moment to strike. She in fact must have had an absurd amount of experience when it came to boredom.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever had an empty mind before.’ Derrin sent in a worried tone. ‘You’re sure this works for everyone?’

‘Some may take longer to achieve the state than others.’ Malan began, ‘but as a god, yes, Derrin you will be able to empty your mind.’ How long that would take him compared to everyone else? That was a different matter.

Ryan sent a groan. ‘I could use a few hundred years of peace after all this activity. I see now that being a converter has its down sides.’ The Verm added, aware of the fact that for his miracle to work, it needed his attention. A follower couldn’t do it for him, he had to be present, he had to be the one to pull the strings. It meant his priests were always demanding him. Which for a normally formed god, uncustomed to anything else, wouldn’t have been a problem. But Malan fellow gods were still transitioning in their ways of viewing the realm. Mortals weren’t used to being in so many places at once, nor their attention always being pulled.

‘You will get accustomed to it in time Ryan,’ Malan sent. “I took me at least a hundred years before my fondness of one perspective faded.” Now he didn’t even think of it, the act happened on its own, even as he sent thoughts and feelings to his fellows. His awareness was constantly shifting from one follower to the next, listening, planning, calculating Devotion and its expenditure. He was doing countless mental task that to a mortal would have had their brain turn to mush.

‘I was hoping for a faster adjustment.’ Ryan complained, and not unwarranted, he was taking on a lot for a fledgling god.

‘You would think it would,’ Malan sent, “But a single perspective is so simple, alluring in a way. The best advice I can give you, is you to split your attention as much as possible. Force yourself away from one view till being everywhere becomes your new normal.’ It had been something he’d been forced to do as a starting god; to maximize his chances of gaining a follower or making a deal with mortals for favors.

Ryan groaned again, while Foy laughed. ‘Don’t worry, just a few more months Ryan, then you can mill about to your hearts content.’

‘And I will,’ Ryan sent back to the Heon. ‘The attention is quaint, all the praise and such, but my followers, those converted, they hardly think for themselves. And while that was useful in the beginning, it’s becoming quite the hindrance.’

‘Everything is balanced,’ Malan responded. ‘At least that is what Madness often says. It claims it’s to stop abusive plays and keep the game fun no matter the type of religion that unfolds.’

Ryan grunted and mumbled. ‘As balanced as an uneven tail.’

Foy chuckled. ‘Come on Ryan you’re keeping up with a god with millions of followers, I would say you’re the unbalanced one.’

‘I’m getting help,’ Ryan protested. ‘And the only reason I’m still around is because Wargain doesn’t want to ash the Underrealm. Now that trick is unbalanced.’

‘Madness showed otherwise.’ Bronduff sent, which got Ryan to scoff.

‘For a little while, but its armies of insane still got burnt later,’ the Verm replied.

The fact was half true, the insane weren’t really a following of Madness, there was a chance for them to be, after some manipulation on the entities part. But mostly they had been an army of razing lunatics.

‘Wargain was able to ash them, because Madness was spent and didn’t have the strength to fight back. If your foe is to ahead of you in power, you still lose no matter the advantage your element might have against the opposing one.’ Malan sent joined with the image of an analogy.

It was a bucket of water being thrown on a small fire, extinguishing it. The progress then repeated but this time against flames that were consuming a forest. The water did nothing at all, save cause some hissing sounds.

‘I get the point,’ Ryan sent back to him in a tone that gave the impression he was rubbing his temples. ‘Balancing can only go so far.’

‘Cheer up Ryan,’ Foy sent again. ‘Soon Wargains going to be too busy and tired to batter you around.’ She sent to them sights of Dreamer becoming more active. Sights that he was already viewing himself from the same Shadows.

What they watched wasn’t a temporary spell of movement, Dreamer were waking, eyes that weren’t the third began to fluttering open. And while they still lulled about in a dazed manner, it was only a matter of time.

‘Hurry up you layabouts,’ Ryan sent. ‘You’ve rested enough, it’s my turn to lounge.’ Derrin and Foy sent waves of mirth, while the rest of them kept their attention fixed on the sights. Now that they began to wake, Malan noticed the modification in the Dreamers rapidly begin to increase. Monsters tripled in size; areas not covered in fur become so leathery and thick the skin could have passed for stone.

Inside bones become more robust and densely packed. A change so the overly developed muscles wouldn’t shatter them. Bone began to spread as well, it weaved about, angling to provide as much protection to organs as possible without restricting movement.

After that the body changes became random. Monsters of variance sizes and shapes stretch about, untroubled by the shifting of their bodies as they woke fully.

Conscious Eyes looked about their ice cocoons, even at his Shadows watching them. The dead and warped living stared at each other for seconds, then the Dreamers moved their gazes elsewhere. The Shadows didn’t interest them, and after that first observation, beasts ignored the end entirely.

They began clawing at their hovels, enlarging them in quick order and swatted themselves. The hatcheries within each Dreamer activated, in moments his fellows watched as beasts began laying hundreds of eggs.

‘Celestials, these things really are going to overrun the realm,’ Ryan said aghast.

‘Whelp,’ Foy sent a moment later. ‘It appears both our kind lost the race of taken the realm with numbers.’ The comment caused Ryan to sigh.

Throughout the wastes, once the deed of laying eggs was done, beasts erupted from the land clawing up into the wailing winds. Their monstrous forms were unbothered by deaths touch. The third eye within their foreheads looked around, and as one, the beasts of various forms charged. From bipedal to more un-ascended bestial forms, the Dreamers ran across the plane, a part of Malan awareness tracking their path.

‘They’re heading straight for Wargains fortifications.’ He informed as the roaming beasts formed together into hordes. Which never stopped growing in size as Dreamers emerged from the environment. The sight chilling, they already appeared to be an endless tide; and the eggs hadn’t even hatched yet.

‘Oh my,’ Foy laughed. ‘I better get my little miscreants ready, Wargains going to be distracted right quick.’

‘Don’t rush, let Wargain fully invest in dealing with the Dreamers first.’ Malan sent, preparing his own forces.

‘I won’t Malan, but its best to be ready when events became chaotic.’ Foy replied, her awareness fraying, the same with Ryan’s. ‘Not all those things are heading for the surface, they’re digging towards the Underrealm as well.’

Malan followed Ryan awareness, saw through some of his dead Verm children, the Dreamers burrowing deeper into the rock, their claws shoveling it away like loose dirt.

‘I must ready my people; it’s going to be a slaughter when those things break into the tunnels.’ The Verm said before removing his awareness from the shared sending.

It left only the four of them, and his three fellows sent a collective question. What are they to do?

“Bronduff support Ryan. Derrin Rimean conserve your strength, save it in case Dreamers head for our followers in the depths. As for me,’ he sent. “I’m going to help the Dreamers on the surface, my Shadows will follow them, and try to aid the monsters in overwhelming defenses.”

Their links cut after his wisdom was shared. Everyone hurrying to see their work done. Through Shadows he watched the hordes, noticed not all the beasts had stopped changing. One out of hundred it seemed, kept growing in size. Appeared to champions within the mobs of killers. He also noted that all the chosen champions came from the bipedal breeds.

Champions howled out orders from time to time, their large glowing third eyes fixed on the soaring stone enclosures.

Hours into their emergence, the hordes made contact with defenses. Counter to their appearance and behavior, lone beasts did not charge out to attack. They instead focused on grouping up, and waited for the guttural howls of Champions before attacking.

When they did nothing swayed them from their advance. The Ascendants on walls acted instantly, aware of the threat for some time. The land shivered under the collective surge of the Dreamers, nor were they quiet. A constant high-pitched laughter echoed from their months.

Lances, spears, javelins, Ascendants formed and throw these weapons of light into the rushing hordes. Beast were punctured, many in the chest given the skill of the Ascendants, but that didn’t hinder the beasts. They laughed louder, pulled the weapons from their frames even as it seared their flesh and fur.

Malan studied the hyper actively within the Dreamers, how flesh mended, fur regrew, the damage undone in seconds, leaving nothing behind to indicate the monsters had ever been harmed. Only constant damaged stopped the healing process, something he noticed when the front line of beasts kept being impaled by weapons. Some died from it, but they didn’t stay dead, once left unbothered the healing began, weapons were pushed out from mending wounds.

The Ascendants saw this, began sending forth column of flames as the monsters got closers. That slowed them, even killed some; the Ascendants wasted no time reducing the mutated into ash. The Dreamers stayed died after that point.

Through Shadows mingled with the horde, the dead ignored. Malan sent Devotion, and a command. ‘Extinguish the flames, keep the Ascendants from burning the dead.’

Shadows acted, Devotion spent and the realm answered the workings of his followers. Layers of snow melted, pooling back into water and went surging forth crashing together. The conflicting elements hissed from the shared touch, the heat birthing blinding mist. But all in the contest of war weren’t mortal, weren’t limited with mundane eyes. The battle raged on within a growing fog.

With bouts of flames being counter, other Shadows began sending water to coat the half-cooked remains of Dreamers, playing their part in thwarting the actions the Ascendants.

This was not taken kindly, Ascendants curst at them as they threw javelins of light at the dead. To both groups surprise, the Dreamers actively began taking the hits for the Shadows. Placing themselves in the way of weapons, laughing louder each time.

‘Don’t stop children of Wonder.’ He said to his Shadows across the lands. ‘Help the Dreamers, help them bring down this age of chains.’ Shadows cheered, and sent forth their own insults.

“Your end as has come.” Many of the Shadows screamed their echoing voices as they sent forth arcane works.

Seeing the effectiveness of the Shadows and Dreamers; Malan sent requests to his dead unhindered by tasks. He showed visions, the fight they were missing, and the chance to affect the realm. ‘Join in this my flock, this time of vengeance.’ They answered, Shadows hurried through the Glen, racing to the points of conflict that no mortal could ever match. He sent Devotion to each, draining what little reserves he had to power the dead.

They appeared into existent; silhouette cloaked in black helping hordes of beasts. Champions eyed the arrival of his followers with open amusement, their laughter ringing louder than all others. They roared afterward, fists and arms raise upward as the Dreamers filled with greater strength.

Throughout the land Wargains first layer of defenses, walls spaced from the soaring constructs of stone, began to be pressed. Beasts were getting closer, and his dead kept interfering. At multiple battlefields Shadows warped stone and ice, formed slopes to help the Dreamers scale the high walls. While at the same time they heckled Ascendants with rivers of ice water. The act weakening their molten frames and weapons.

If nothing changed, eventually the Dreamers and Shadows would best the defenders, shatter their protection and head deeper in. Thus, his old foe acted as he always did.

Portals to Wargains realm opened above battlefields, armies worth of Ascendants fell from the sky, spears at the ready as they surged down with guiding flames, racing to face the land of warping beasts.

Further outward away from all defenses, larger portals opened, and through them came Wargains signature trick. Pillars of white flame burst into the realm, the air howling in rage at the instant shift in temperature. The pillars crashed into the realm, blazing over thousands of monsters, their frames consumed entirely.

If he was willing, Wargain could burn the lands not under his protection, ending the threat of the Dreamers quickly. Or so that was what Malan had thought. The Dreamers, no the entity behind them was not so easily cowed.

Champions turned their attentions to the portals afar, and began to mutate. They surged in size, their forms rapidly growing them into hulking beasts that towered over structures.

The act had him grasping in awe. The skill of the change, the perfect timing so organs and bones didn’t rupture. It was wonderful and for a moment he lost himself studding their inner workings, watching as the muscles shifted to support the frames. These giants turned sluggish towards the pillars of moving flame. Each step they took shaking the realm as they glared at the portals.

From their eyes beams of darkness shot out, the edges lined in white light. They aimed them upward at the portals, the beams slicing through.

Portals were unmade and they collapsed violently; bursts of chaotic energy send out thundering pulses through the air. The blasts harsh enough to knock unready Dreamers about as they rushed up slopes..

The Giants repeated their disruptions, shattering portals faster than Wargain could us them properly. It forced the flaming god to invest in them. Gates opened with runes of fire rimming the edges, allowing the breaches into creation to hold against beams of black.

Not forever though, the entity behind the Dreamers met Wargain increase in spending with its own. The beams strengthened, ate away at the runes, cutting through them and the portals.

The collapsing blasts were far more violent, joined with streaks of broken runes that dissolved erratically, many pieces struck the realm, rock shivered and splint from the impacts.

Shadows cheered and laughed with Dreamers as the war god was countered at every turn. Eventually Wargain gave up, instead forming portals out of view of the Giants. They were closer to the ground as well and only let out Ascendants that flew over the lands. They joined their fellow brethren in the task of taking the battle to the Dreamers before more of the hordes could reach the walls of settlements.

But that was the least of their concerns. The Giants, no longer preoccupied with shattering portals, moved their gazes to fortifications. With stone quaking strides the towers of flesh headed towards Wargain cages of stone. Such a sight was noticed, Ascendants rushed towards them, their flames shining bright as they crash into the beasts.

The towers didn’t even notice, the weapons of light shattered against the unnaturally thick hides as the Giants swatted away the metal warriors.

It didn’t dissuade them, Ascendants charged again, sent forth weapons of light and bathed the creatures in flame as much as they could. At most it slightly singed the rocky hides, before even that was healed over.

Again the warriors were battered away, be it the use of limbs or the giants clapping their hands together causing a shock wave. Either way Wargain followers were out matched, they needed more power, greater boons and access to the Orders reserves of might. Wargain refused this, the greatest weakness of his old foe, he hated others having too much power, and the risk it could be turned against him.

So the Ascendants remain pests to the towers of flesh, even as they drew near to walls. Their eyes darkening with the might of light and shadow.

Malan watched, curiosity coursing through his mind. The defenses made by Titar were mighty, the work woven with the runes of gods. But would they hold against these monstrosities?

He already suspected the answer and prepared his Shadows to surge forward with the Dreamers once holes were punched into the structures.

That is, till Wargain decided to intervene personally.

In blindingly lights that bathed the realm with enough luminosity to fake a coming dawn. Multiple versions of Wargain appeared across the lands of his realm, his bronze avatars the size of the Towers. Each was snarling with a raised axe coming down to slice through Giants.

The act caught the cumbersome beasts by surprise, allowing some versions of Wargain to deliver the first strike as axes slices and brunt flesh. Giants howled in protest, but did not retreated, they approached, launching their beams at avatars. They in turn summoned forth shields to block the attacks.

The air hissed when the completing powers collided with each other. The beams, once hitting shields, scattered about causing stray lines to shatter land and fellow Dreamers.

Giants charged, beams still pulsing from their eyes as they tried grappling with avatars. Wargains forms remained hidden behind shields or dodging the attacks, as well as rushing forward to carve away flesh.

The lands trembled under the weight of titans, ground broke, landmasses crumbled as the bronze warriors fought with Giants that refused to die. Their healing ability was more potent than their smaller cousins. Even when harmed the flesh began to mend, and what strikes the Giants did land on avatars were quickly repaired.

The two forces were at a stalemate. For the moment anyways, but more Champions were being born, and in their growing number caused additional Giants to be birthed.

Wargain answered in kind, doing his best to block the Giants appearing throughout his lands. The Orders obviously didn’t want Titars defenses to be tested by the beams of towers. To risk the lands kept warm and safe to be touched by cold and grasping hands of Dreamers.

Malan with his Shadows tried their best to undo that, while Ascendants remained mostly distracted by the hordes. He sent increasing amounts of Devotion to loyal Shadows who’d been in his service for centuries. Through those he acted, gathering power and studying the frame work of the runes.

He saw flaws, even a god could make mistakes when rushed, and Titar had been.

A Shadow gave over control to its form and being, and through it he acted. Runes of power appeared and spun around the shade. The shimming runes of gold shifting into each other as he formed a pattern to focus on Titars mistakes.

The act went unnoticed, the Orders and their underlings to distracted by beasts to notice a single Shadow. That changed when his work was done and he launched the miracle forward, streaks of shifting light smashed into runed rock. His work hammered at faults, digging in and breaking the pattern. Stone became mundane in that area, and with another spin of arcane the section of wall shattered apart.

For all the noise filling the realm, one would have thought the echoes of breaking rock the loudest for the effect it had. Ascendants turned to look, even an avatar of Wargain.

Their eyes meet, and Malan smiled.

“So you are the pet of monsters.” The bronze titan bellowed sending a stream of white flame to consume his chosen Shadow. Its form was consumed, the Devotion erased as Malan returned to gazing from many eyes, and spoke from many mouths.

“I am the servant of Wonder, nothing else. And its time draws near, while yours, warden of confinement, draws to a close.”

Wargain roared a challenge, his many avatars battling fiercely with titans of flesh. “I have bested you at every turn, I have vanquished every monster you let loose into my realm. And I shall slay these as well.” Avatar hacked into Giants, rivers of blood spilling, yet the beasts only laughed. “I shall maintain stability,” Wargain echoed. “Shall protect the lands from your madness.” He roared. “We shall pass this trail, we shall rise from the ashes of your destruction, from your age of chaos.” Wargain sent pillars of flame outward bathing Giants in consuming flames. The monster answered back, beams of shadows cut through the fire and went ramming into braced opponents.

Malan let himself laugh; his cackling carried by the winds to Wargain ears. But he said nothing, even as his tongue itch to speak words, to dangle the harsh truth above his foe, he remained mute, and provided Wargain what he sought, ignorance.

He spent his time on matter more important than heckling Wargain, no matter how enjoyable it was. He concentrated his focus and power on Shadows, and while Ascendants were wary of his work now, not all were fast enough to disrupt him.

From battlefield to battlefield he went shattering sections, opening ways for the Dreamers to bypass high walls.

The Dreamers shriek in delight, hordes concentrating on the gaps as he worked to make more. The outer defenses at strongholds and fortresses began to buckle. But it wasn’t because of him, he only hastened the end result.

Eggs began to hatch out in the waste, new Dreamers flooding out and repeating the progress of the first generation. New eggs were laid, the number soaring to levels he didn’t bother counting.

He studied them though, and the situation as a whole. while he fought and guided his Shadows, he planned, conceived of ways his realm of Wonder would better survive these ends. He would need a realm of arcane weavers, and plane shapers. But most of all a land of people with the power to fight back. To face opponents the size of mountains. And for that they were need volumes of knowledge, a library of arcane truths to guide them.

Continually the answer to surviving came out to be Adaptability. Just as the Dreamers were doing, to his horror.

Beasts grew increasing resilient to Wargain and the Ascendants. The heat of their weapons and flames weren’t biting into flesh as much. Worse the Dreams blood became sticky like tar. Axes and spears that did pierce hide were got stuck and lost to the wielders.

Giants began to contest Wargain, where before his avatars were superior to the towers of flesh, he now found himself increasingly on the defense. In some dual’s avatars had lost their axes to the tar blood, forced to quickly form another weapon as Giants rained down blows against shields. The towers were getting stronger, their punches beginning to dent the miracle metal, but with Wargain empowering them, they kept repairing.

The duals weren’t going to end anytime soon, the two forces had too much power at their disposal for either to be bested permanently. But events weren’t going well for Wargain, he couldn’t do this alone, and the longer he tried, the more Malan saw the Dreamers adapt to him.

‘Be prideful,’ Malan thought hoping Wargain would continue to waste himself on this mistake. ‘Believe you can defeat this on your own.’ He prayed his foe stay blind while Malan went about shattering more walls.

He made enough holes in certain fights that Dreamers breached the first layer of defenses. They rushed into the empty areas and charging towards the main walls of the stone enclosures. From high up, doors that only the flying could reach. Ascendants emerged in troves, a new host of armies racing out to contest the beasts.

Malan laughed, his voice mingling with the shouts of battle, it was all falling apart so quickly. They were only a few hours into the duals of gods and the Orders were already on the back paw losing ground. Being openly defeated for the first time in… How long?

It caused him to pause, at least four centuries, but even then, it wasn’t this blatant of a turn. Wargain wasn’t taking it well. The faces of the titanic avatars warped into masks of rage, muzzles creased angrily, and flaming eyes churned with molten hate.

‘Yes Wargain, lose yourself, become transfixed on the fight.’ The more Wargain wasted himself on increasingly resisted attacks the better.

Alas, the flaming god hadn’t made it this far by just the merits of his own skills and power.

Malan scowled when he felt the touch of her power. Witnessed the acts of life weaving as Lisoe joined her husband. Avatars formed out of a greenish gold light that appeared next to the bronze titans. The moment she arrived, Dreamers began to drop, even Giants. Flesh and bone bloated and sprouted oddly as the god of life contested the entity in control of the Dreamers. A war of flesh took place as the two beings dualled within the bodies of monsters.

Beasts became hinder with tumors that at times burst. Brains grow to large in skull cavities causing Dreamers to go into shock and crumple lifelessly to the ground midstride.

Malan could see it all, could undue her work, it would have been so easy, but he didn’t have the power to contest all of her. She wasn’t holding back, or being held back by her husband. She was allowed to use as much Devotion as needed and she alone was turning the tide. Wherever she appeared the waves of monsters stalled.

She was being clever with her attacks to as the fight dragged on. Lisoe didn’t aim at causing normal harm, but instead overgrew organs and flesh so it caused cascading problems.

The entity of the Dreamers was having a harder time undoing this. And those delays caused the tide of battle to turn against them. Giants began to be felled as Lisoe plagued them with tumors, and followed up with Wargain as he hacked at them, then summoned forth his mightiest flames to burn the comatose bodies into ash.

Malan muzzle twitched irritably at the sight, before he sighed and calmed himself. He let go of that budding hope, the one that had him believing his enemies would be slaughtered quickly. Instead, he did what he could in small localized areas of his Shadows. While he couldn’t contend with Lisoe broadly, he had enough strength to aid small Dreamers.

Through Shadows he worked, undoing growths. At first he’d felt a resistance to his touch, the entity wary of his influence. But as he continued to help it, said resistance fell away and Malan found himself being guided, his work quickened and soon enough he found his skill being copied. He suppressed a shiver as he noticed the entity learning from him.

In areas around his Shadows, Dreamers twitched and bolted back upright, awareness returning as they surveyed the carnage taking place. While beasts laid dormant, Ascendants and carved their way through the ranks for Dreamers, dismembering them and burning bodies as quickly as possible. They even began to go after Shadows, since it seemed only they remained an immediate threat.

How quickly that changed when the entity replicated his process over the entirely of its growing horde. The beasts around Lisoes avatars came back to life. And while her form of attack was still effective, it was no longer crippling.

New Giants were raised from Champions, replacing those lost. The eggs out in the wastes hatched as well. The progress of laying more repeated before a new, much larger wave of beasts went surging across the lands, adding themselves to the ranks already bloated with numbers.

‘We’re supposed to last a month of this?’ Malan thought as he supported his Shadows who in turn helped heal Dreamers plagued with tumors.

He recalled Madness laughter, its mirth that the end had arrived so early, how pantheons weren’t ready for such a trail.

Now witnessing first hand he understood, and while the slaughter did trouble him, innocence at the mercy of monsters; it also caused waves of relief.

He’d suspected the Dreamers and winter to weaken Wargain, end him.

But with endless hordes continually arriving, his old foe being pressed, it was no longer an assumption, it was a fact. Wargain was going to end, the empire he’d built up for centuries was going to be sundered. His religion lost, his followers consumed, it was only a matter of time before Wargain was exhausted.

Not that the current fight showed that. Wargain didn’t flinch away from the mounting odds as more Giants grew and headed towards fortifications. He answered with increased numbers of his own avatars. Plus the skies above opened to his realm. Hundreds of thousands fell, Ascendants, blazing with power surging downward, spears at the ready as they unleash a collective wave of flames to wash over the rivers of monsters.

At the epicenter of these attack monster were burnt, wounded. But the wounds quickly closed, and those at the outskirts of the attacks weren’t bothered at all. With each repeated attack the Dreamers became more attuned to flame.

The one sidedness of the fight and the sights of battles taking place over hundreds of acers of lands reminded him of his past. His time of retribution against the Archons of nature. Whom he had sundered with the mastery of the arcane and the power of a Source core.

It also reminded him of how small he was now, he was no great force to be feared, he was a nuisance compared to the Dreamers. But he still had his uses.

With Dreamers taking up the Orders attention, Malan gained increased success at shattering sections of wall. Ascendants tried to stop him, but Dreamers kept getting in the way. They guarded his chosen Shadows zealously, with even Champions coming to his side to provide aid. And while they did, his awareness centralized in places, Malan could feel the watchful gaze of the entity controlling the hordes. How it was studding him, interested.

That interest manifested further away, far from the battles raging around fortresses and strongholds. A lone Dreamer, one that grew into a Champion, made its way to one of his shrines perched in an alcove on a high mountain. It knew exactly where it was even with it hidden behind layers of rock.

The Champion came to a halt after a few steps into the domain of his shrine, and there it waited till he manifested a form.

Its large third eye, pulsing with power, centered on his avatar. It gave a wide unnatural smile, revealing its many sharp fangs as a form of greeting.

And it was a greeting, for the entity was reaching out to him, not threateningly, or commandingly. The intention was that of talks, a discussion, but not one with words. It was the mind alone, a flow of feelings and understandings; at least for it.

Even with centuries of being a god, Malans mind still worked mostly in the frame work of words and images.

‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Sovereign cores in use, and so many at once.’ His mind interrupted from the entity. ‘And for them to be so activate, even when they know they can’t win.’ Puzzlement and amusement mixed with the intentions of the entity. ‘And all these plans to, a shame none of them will be allowed to be.’ It added, the Champion drawing closer.

‘But that’s not why I’m here.’ he felt the entity send. ‘Would you like to make a deal with me?’

“What kind?” He questioned back with his manifested form.

‘Alliance,’ the entity sent, its champion spreading its arms at the same time. ‘You already help me, I already help you, and both of us want the same thing, to an extent.’ It didn’t hide the scope of want it wanted, every mortal in the realm dead, nor the fact it was everywhere. He wasn’t the only god being contacted. Others, be they great or small were in talks as well. Accepting and refusing its offers.

“I see,” Malan said, unable not to, the entity hid nothing. It was offering him mercy, for a time. It would ignore his following, even help protect them, till they were all that was left. Once that was reached, they would be slaughtered, for that was the entity’s goal, its aim.

He was also knew the entity wasn’t telling the other gods this fact.

The reasoning of why he was told the whole truth was because he couldn’t win, his role within the game would end at the same time as the entity. The warper of flesh and gifter of true sight.

“Does this extent to my pantheon?” He asked.

The champion laughed, and nodded its head. ‘Since they also hold Sovereign cores, they will be given the same treatment.’ The interpretation was also mixed with what the warper of flesh wanted.

Namely knowledge, odd since it seemed to know so much already. But what it asked for was telling. It wanted everything pertaining to the pantheon it was facing on this continent. It wanted to know the Orders inside and out, and it wanted this badly.

It did not hide the reason for this either, as Madness had told him, this session climax had arrived the earliest it could have possibly done so. The Warper knew this, saw it had an extremely good chance at achieving its purpose.

‘You’re all so pathetically weak.’ It sent to him, yet no malice was laced with the thinking, it was a fact and a surprise. ‘Last time all of the realm was united against me, my children struggling to take hold. But now?’ The Champion laughed. ‘Not even a day we take and hold ground, the lands abandoned, the realm covered in frost.’

Much was revealed with those words, the pantheon before must have been strong enough to keep the realm alive even without the Suns radiance. All the while the current session struggled to keep alive pockets hidden away behind layers of stone.

“They still died, didn’t they?” He asked the creature.

He received visons as answer. Witnessed Armies they made the ones in use now appear to be trite skirmishes. The realm was dominated by Giants, who were in turn battled beings of equal size. Titans of ornate stone and gold, covered in fine gems and enormous crystals. Hundreds of thousands of these entities fought, joined by millions of mortals and stone constructs.

As he had assumed the realm was still alive, false Suns dotted the sky, bathed light and warmth upon the land. But as time passed, months, the zones appearing and ignored. Those false lights winked out one by one. The great armies slowly succumbing to loses, yet the Dreamers kept coming, kept getting stronger.

He felt the intentions of it, the mirth. ‘They were a very proud lot, even with escape presented they refused to run, they fought me till I humbled them. Only then did they retreat into Bastion, where old enemies awaited to enact vengeance.’

The visions fell away. ‘But you don’t get that luxury, you’re stuck here with me, partners to bring about the end.’ The Champion loomed over him. ‘Interested in making it official.’

Again it pressed the offering of alliance.

Malan smile at it warmly. “If you can destroy the Orders?” He offered a hand. “Then you have our aid.” The creature took his hand, the realm shivered slightly around them, and the deal was struck. He provided his end of the bargain, sent everything they knew of the Orders, their history, they current situation, the detailed workings of their defenses inside the fortresses of stone.

The Warper consumed it all and the Champion laughed, its shrieking giggle rising into the night. ‘A Monster slayer is he?’ The entity contemplated, before the creature leaned closer to him. ‘Time to show him how wrong that belief is.’