The Northern Everfrost. A region where innumerable fields of ice and snow stretch as far as the eye can see. As the point of convergence for the world’s ice element, the ice caps here average miles in diameter and boast strength and durability far higher than steel.

It is upon a particularly large ice cap far in the ocean that an opulent tower of gold, fitted with all manner of wards and enchantments, stands. Its surface stands unblemished, seemingly untouched by neither frost nor howling winds. To an onlooker, the scene could only be described as otherworldly. And they would be right.

Though, to even the most astute observer, there would be nothing here at all. Despite the land it takes up, birds fly by without roosting and fish instinctively avoid the area.

In spite of the chilling winds outside, a window at the peak of the tower was open. Within the tower’s highest chamber sits a small, hunchbacked old man in loose robes. His slouched position shows no sign of discomfort, for the temperature inside is mild.

It is set at a point that would be pleasant for people, though the only inhabitant is not able to appreciate it. This environment was tailored towards the aesthetics of mortal humans only out of a sense of nostalgia for the past. Now, he sits unperturbed, eyes wandering lazily, though looking at nothing in particular.

Silently, he sifts through memories of his life. Haphazardly browsing the soul archive he’d created back when he was only 50. It was a patchwork mess, but it served its purpose well, storing the wealth of knowledge he’d accumulated in his earlier years.

It was a wonder that he was even able to make it without doing irreparable damage to his outer soul, as he ruthlessly experimented with it to create it. Perhaps his callousness and general deviance were sequelae of this, but it has been so long that it has already become an integral part of his character.

He sits, reminiscing of a journey that should have long reached its conclusion, prolonged unnaturally through foul rituals and arcane spells.

The empire he was born into is long lost to the pages of history. The people he once had ties to long passed.

He was alone now.

He was for quite some time, but the memories of the people he met, of the friendships and comradery fostered during his travels were as clear as an icy stream.

He had no regret in outliving them all. The dream he pursued was, and still is, worth all sorrowful partings, past, present, and future. Not to say such partings hurt any less.

Perhaps that was why he decided to hide away in his old age. To become hyper-focused on his work and dream. To distract himself from his thoughts and emotions.

Mortals. He technically was still one, not yet crossing the threshold into immortality, despite being stronger than most beings that would call themselves gods.

Not that there weren’t precedents of mortals shattering the heavens and tearing deities from their lofty heights. Their lives were short, but they made up for it with their potential and ambition. That potential was inversely proportional to age was something well-known across every world he’d visited.

This ambition usually amounted to finding ways to extend their pitifully short lives, as most were not cut out to pursue true [Detachment]. However, without a high enough vision and ambition methods sought in this way won’t last long. A few passing millennia at most.

Their fate is one of eventually wasting away until nothing but the stories of their deeds remain. Until even those are forgotten.

And though he, Arcanist Eldridge, lived on to the point where even those legends had become forgotten, like most other mortals, he was also a once brilliant inferno that had burned through all its fuel. Now slowly dying out and fading away.

But he was one among an enlightened few. He saw what true [Detachment] meant. He saw a road leading to heights that even now he failed to fathom. A true eternity.

Now, with his life force teetering on the edge, that first step towards eternity but a few steps to being realized, the next step will be one of no return, forever turning his back on his humanity. Even more than he already has.

Turning his attention away from the myriad of messy notes filled with magical jargon littered throughout the room, the archmage looks down at an item grasped in his long, wizened fingers.

Upon his palm lay a gold bracelet - an intricate serpent, devouring its own tail. He’d unconsciously taken it out of his space ring, and upon realizing its presence a flood of memories washed over him.

It was an artifact he crafted in his youth. Made at a time when his goal of immortality was set out of youthful ignorance. What were the shackles of mortality to a talented mage born to nobility?

Peers and sycophants alike parroted the notion, shouting to the heavens that he was destined for greatness. That he would take their empire to greater heights, leading it to conquer in all directions and establish complete dominance over the world.

They were right, in a way. A shame none of them lived to see him become what he is today. He was still grateful for their “selfless” contribution. Their sacrifice was what set the foundation for his success, after all.

Perhaps he could be considered “the Golden Empire”? It was still a part of him, though existing in another form.

What would they think of me now, I wonder? What would they say? Curse me, probably.

Well, longevity seemed simple at the time. Back in his homeworld, there were countless races that were inherently long-lived. Not to say that longevity was an inborn trait and one had to be born into it, either.

Stories of humans turned vampire or lich were commonplace. However, they served more as cautionary tales than anything else. After all, stories of a blood-starved vampire or an insane and unstable lich wreaking havoc were even more commonplace. With a plethora of choices in front of him, he felt that it was only a matter of time before he stumbled upon one that fit his preferences.

He’d studied many instances of longevity before. Though with none of the finesse he has now. It was quite… messy during his early years.

Looking back, the only thing back then that equaled his pride was perhaps his luck. Though at the time he believed it to be a work of providence rather than just blind luck, and perhaps that might very well be the case. The higher he gets the less he feels that things just happen out of “coincidence”.

Like stumbling upon the prerequisites for the rare [Dimension Mage] subclass, allowing him to traverse different worlds entirely. It came at a time when he’d needed it most as well. Running afoul with the world’s guardians after a ritual was a bit too successful.

But it also ultimately led him to his first encounter with an [Detached] entity.

In those adventures. he’d come to learn of the vastness of the omniverse. Of how completely some worlds’ development eclipsed his in some fields while hopelessly behind in others.

This diversity taught him to maddeningly hoard knowledge from every world, as he never knew when it would later be applied. Even the most basic ones. Especially the basic ones.

That period of reckless world hopping was very, very dangerous, too. It was during that time that he had his hubris shattered. His humility was learned the hard way, though luckily not hard enough to completely break him.

A brief touch with a bringer of insanity. He was very fortunate to be experienced in matters of the soul beforehand, otherwise things would have become a lot more… unpleasant.

The pollution still exists today, though sequestered and tamed. Had it not been the case his soul would have been twisted to the indescribable entity’s shape.

Now, he knew better. “Simple” forms of true immortality were simply dead ends. Eternal life at the cost of one’s ego or at the whims of some enigmatic being whose thoughts were impossible to divine was no immortality at all.

Nor did he wish to play an endless game of cat and mouse throughout the multiverse, hiding in some forgotten corner hoping no one finds him. He experienced it once, and it only stopped once he thoroughly exterminated his pursuer and both everyone and everything associated with them.

A decidedly unpleasant experience that tied him down for hundreds of years. It was something he did not wish to experience again.

Over time, he would come to terms with the fact that every solution to immortality had a price to be paid. A shackle, a curse, a binding. Whatever the method, there would always be some factor that would dissuade him from using it. If one knew how and where to look, inheritances were quite literally everywhere, but each of them held hidden pits, just waiting for him to blindly fall into.

Nevertheless, despite the unfortunate twists and turns made while grasping blindly in the dark, the path was eventually made clear. While not perfect, as it meant giving up a large portion of his autonomy, it certainly beats the alternatives.

It was a path wholly his own, at least. The solution came to him during one of his usual manic fits, sequelae of having touched upon an indescribable existence detached from everything.

He was wary, but through countless verifications, he’d come to believe it was truly a result of his thoughts. A moment of inspiration, of enlightenment, it would be remembered as.

The answer?

Artificing.

What he had once picked up as a passing hobby would be the path he chose to endless life.

Looking back, it’s quite ironic. Despite all that manic searching… and those unfortunate incidents… the solution was right there… right in front of me all along.

That dream from many millenniums ago had not diminished in the slightest. In fact, with the knowledge gained, there exists a reason to fear death. Well, if one valued what he valued, anyway.

But that was all behind him. Hopefully. Now, he had confidence in his success. His eternity was at hand, and nothing would ruin this moment. The only thing now was to truly savor the experience.

It was something truly novel, a sublimation of sublimations, and he wanted to get his mind in order so that the next step was done with peak performance.

Wanting to reexperience the feeling he had all those years ago, one of compulsively checking the artifact, he cast [Appraise].

Ouroboros - Token of Obsession

Equip Requirement: LVL 75

Equipment Type: Accessory

Durability: 100,000/100,000

Effects:

1: Consumes excess Mana Regen to slow everything that affects aging, in both the soul and body. Effectiveness is determined by the amount of Mana consumed.

1a: Slows leveling proportionally

1b: Wearer is less prone to change, both physically and mentally.

2: Calculate the time until natural death

Current Effect:

<1% Slowdown

320 Days until death

Crafted by an ambitious wizard utilizing his understanding of souls in a vain attempt to ward off death. While it doesn’t fulfill its objective completely, it still provides the user with a lifespan far beyond the average of their kind. Provided they use it in their youth, of course.

Through the careful study of magic, soul, and body, Eldridge developed a deep understanding of life. He was quite fortunate to find the study enthralling in and of itself, rather than just another chore to further his goal. There was just something enticing about life, in all its forms, that he just couldn’t quite get enough of.

It was through this knowledge that he was able to create this bracelet, serving as an ever-present reminder of his mortality. Back then, it was this reminder that pushed him to challenge his limits.

To stagnate was to wait for death. An adage that I held close to my chest back then, and one that has proven itself correct time and again.

However, despite his best efforts to stave off death, at over 10,000 years old, he felt himself at death’s door. Even the most masterfully crafted potions made from the most potent of ingredients across multiple worlds would not even buy him a day anymore.

From this juvenile and crippled world, he could slaughter the strongest dragon and bathe in its blood or strike down the only deity left and consume their divine essence and not even gain an hour.

Though fortunately, this worked in reverse as well. Curses targeting his lifespan would have laughable results, failing to remove even a second from him, though perhaps he’d just not encountered a dangerous enough [Hexer]. It would take something monumental for his remaining time to move.

It was a fact he lived with for the past hundreds of years or so. He had expected it to come eventually, seeing himself get diminishing returns despite finding new methods far and wide. Being able to travel worlds and collect unique ingredients alleviated things, but there was a limit.

It seemed like every thousand years was a watershed for humans, with each one resulting in a drastic reduction in the effectiveness of life-extending methods.

He noticed this trend early on, thanks to the ability to know his own lifespan, and planned accordingly. However, after the 10,000th year, there was a reduction that far exceeded his predictions and his layout beforehand had to be expedited to account for that.

As a result, he threw himself into his project with a zeal uncharacteristic of a man his age. Though, in the end, everything was finished with a bit of time to spare.

The most tedious and difficult part is complete. The core is finished, and I can fully purify my soul during the ritual.

Now, just a spark to set everything off… and a catalyst to keep things going...

The souls in this world will suffice. They’re on the weaker side of things, but that’s to be expected from a world like this. I’d hoped for them to develop more in the past few centuries but those dragons were more active than I anticipated. Their patron is the only god here, after all. Maybe I should have introduced things to put checks on their actions

I’ll just have to foot the difference myself, then.

Eldridge rose from his chair with a slight grunt. There was a reason why most mages after level 500, or Tier 6, preferred to use either a [Levitate], [Fly], or [Teleport] spell to get around.

Eldridge counted himself among their number as well, which played no small part in his now atrophied legs. Though, no amount of exercise could reverse their decay at this age.

Here, he was alone, so there was no need to save face. He could forgo this simple luxury to savor what little time he had left with a physical, human body. Though, if anything, all it did was remind him why he made his choice. Using limbs like this was cumbersome at best.

With shaky steps, Eldridge walked over to a gaudy mirror across the room. His gait was more fitting for a senior struggling to walk down the road than an all-powerful archmage.

As a matter of fact, if he did walk down the street of a crowded city no one would be able to tell the difference. Well, if he put away the shimmering artifacts and enchanted robes, of course.

Gone were the days when he would carry himself with pride. The unceasing march of time eroded it all, whether it be hubris, charm, excitement, or even warmth, an emaciated face with a long, unkempt, beard was all that was left.

Despite the relative peace in the past few centuries, red, bloodshot eyes tinged with a hint of insanity still looked back at him.

A ghost of a man, bearing no resemblance to the bold figure in his memory. Though also a testament to the determination that carried him through all those years.

The blank stare gave way to a bemused expression as he compared the two images. He did not feel disgusted by this transformation. Beauty was something he’d discarded for knowledge and power, and he would do the same again now.

Did I grow more unhinged during my time alone? No. That’s impossible. I can recognize and control my insanity now. That was not the case then.

He’d long excised the portion of his soul containing the memory, though he still keeps around the products of his delirium - several scrawlings bound within a worn tome. Despite the wear obvious on tome, it was treasured and well maintained. Even an artifact carefully hand-crafted by him was unable to withstand the knowledge he’d scribbled within.

Despite it being an obvious danger, he didn’t consider destroying or throwing it away.

It was still knowledge, after all. It would be a waste to simply dispose of a glimpse of an impossibly higher being. Though dangerous, it provides interesting insights into the fundamental laws of the omniverse.

Abilities he’d derived from such knowledge were immune to worldly suppression, a trait that proved invaluable in his travels.

It was also the event that drove him to pursue immortality in earnest. It broadened his horizons far beyond the gaze of mortals and even most immortals, and for that, he was forever grateful.

Though the manner such a meeting was held was unpleasant, it could not be helped. Even now, he carries scars from that encounter. Over time, he came to realize that it was a complete miracle to walk away only carrying scars and mental pollution.

He didn’t know why he liked being in front of a mirror when he examined his status, but it was a habit developed early on and wasn’t something particularly negative so it was kept.

Status

Status

Name: Eldridge Von Hastur

Titles: Quasi-Administrator, Etc.

Expand?

Age: 10,360

Total Level: [Hidden] 5134 / [Shown] 1510

Mana: 4,100,587,900

Attributes:

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Race: Human [Eldritch Taint]

Subrace: Crawling Chaos of a Thousand Faces [Tainted]

Skills: Expand?

Main Class: [Hidden] Artificer of Eternity / [Shown] Alchemical Archmage

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 1: Master Arcanist

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 2: [Hidden] Archon of Souls

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 3: Elemental Archmage

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 4: [Hidden] Riftwalker / [Shown] Space Mage

Skills: Expand?

General Skills:

Expand?

Condition: Twilight, Eldritch Taint[0.01%], etc.[Expand?]

His status. A culmination of over 10,000 years of dedication, triumph, and trauma. With it, he could easily visualize the deep accumulation he’d built up over the years.

And soon, he’d be throwing most of it away if all went the way he’d planned. The only regret in doing so was possibly discarding the recognition of an indescribable existence - the System, as it represents a way out in case things went awry.

He could only hope that his current achievements can be carried through. It was [Detached], too so it shouldn’t be stingy. He didn’t know enough about it, though, and the little that he did know did not paint a very benevolent picture.

Funny, because the System loves nothing more than for more people to know more about it. He could call upon its very essence right now if he so wished. It prided itself on being “Open Source”, whatever that meant. But doing so would invariably incur the condition [Eldritch Taint].

He had more than enough already and didn’t want to have any more. It also goes to show how far he traveled. Most people wouldn’t find any traces of an eldritch presence unless they were very, very unlucky or they possessed the ability to travel in the space between worlds. Unfortunately for Eldridge, he had both those qualities.

Despite standing for just a few minutes, he started to feel his knees buckle. His body could hardly keep up without the support of magic. Though knowing such a thing would happen, it disappointed him nonetheless.

“[Levitate], [Teleport].”

Upon the cast, his surroundings immediately shifted. The target destination was the place where he usually did his tinkering - a hollowed-out area underneath the tower spanning nearly the entire ice cap.

He could have walked here, relive the “human” experience, but he doubted his body could withstand such a task. The next part, however, could be done on foot, if only helped along by [Levitation].

What could he say? He had a heart for theater.

In an instant, a spacious room filled with magi-tech apparatuses came into view. Though even with the fancy equipment all around, one thing stood out above the rest, in part due to the distance from it and the rest of the equipment.

At the center of the room was an altar. Around it were circles upon circles of gold, forming the bedrock from which a massive ritual would be conducted. It was a wonder that such a common material could find use in magic so advanced, but it truly deserved to be a metal everyone loved.

Standing in front of this ritual once more, on the eve of his sublimation into a higher power, a trace of nostalgia washed over him once again. An irresistible memory came over him.

It brought him back to the first time he attempted such a thing. All 10,000 years ago. His first step towards immortality. His first step on the road of no return. He quite literally sacrificed everyone he knew at that point.

It was from this memory that carried with it a touch of guilt that a hint of doubt touched his mind. This feeling was quickly extinguished, replaced with pure determination. Now was not the time for second thoughts. He’d have plenty of time to consider everything once he’d succeeded and entered retirement.

With firm eyes, he walked towards the center. His steps were heavy, as though weighed down by the past he was unconsciously unwilling to let go. That it was his spirit controlling his movements through a [Levitation] spell only gave credence to that idea.

After what felt like ages, he stopped before the altar. Standing in front of centuries of work, he felt a sense of catharsis.

The journey from his room to here had satisfied all lingering attachments to this mortal body. Casting his eyes downward, his eyes settled on the centerpiece, the core of the formation.

Upon that altar was an orb no larger than a marble, and one might even mistake it for one at first glance. From the outside, it had no special features, a monochrome gold from all sides.

It is a world core. Or rather, it was one. It was an object he’d come across during one of his many world-hopping adventures. He almost died due to the chaotic ambient mana raging as far as he was able to perceive when he went to the coordinates that had this thing.

The world itself was long gone, well and truly annihilated until only this treasure among treasures was left. What had happened to the world it once was or why the being that destroyed it hadn’t taken it away was something Eldridge wasn’t able to pursue at the time. However, how could he possibly refuse such a priceless thing? He decided he wasn’t worthy of someone able to destroy a world to use it as bait, either.

From the damaged state that spewed chaotic, distorted mana and rules in all directions to the current pristine artifact that would replace his inner soul as the core of his being. It was an undertaking spanning thousands of years.

Now…

It was finally time. Everything was ready. The ritual could begin.

Their sacrifice will not be in vain. Their souls will live on. They will be a part of something far greater than themselves.

A part of me.

A part of …

Apollyon.

My magnum opus.

Apollyon

Equip Requirement: LVL 1

Durability: N/A

Effects:

N/A

An inactive artifact core