I am not, as you know, a religious man. The screeching priests and their endless droning on all matters ‘Path’ hold no attraction to me. I’ve no time for their words, elixirs or ‘ideas’.

I don’t care how many Levels I’d get.

Almost everything around us can be explained, we literally have a ‘System’ we can analyse, for goodness’ sake. Just because we can’t identify the origins of said System, doesn’t mean we need to assume some form of deity.

The Ancients, though, are different. They are real, observed, named, experienced. One can study them, if you know where to look for the historical record. They are demonstrably, observably and materially as close to divine as a being can be.

It is foolish to consider them as simply monsters, they are as far from an average monster as a ka’armodo is from a gecko. We are ants to them. It’s hardly surprising that such powerful beings would inspire worship. When you cannot run from them, and you cannot fight them, one might as well pray.

- Excerpt from the private correspondence of Illarion the heretic

Deep within the Dungeon.

Arconidem dreamed. The Demon God had slept for so long, thoughts drifting slowly in and out of oblivion, away from the material world at times, then drifting closer again.

It was such a time now. Visions of demons at war flickered rapid-fire, one after another, through the Ancient’s mind. Violence, fire and ash, over and over again, all types of demon battling against all kinds of foe. A never-ending battle of rage and chaos that wrapped around Pangera’s core.

Such a pleasant dream.

Despite still slumbering, the Demon God smiled, then drew a breath.

In an instant, the mana inside the grand chamber plummeted, leaving those present gasping as their cores screamed out in pain. Deprived of the energy that gave them life, the God’s attendants writhed even as their eyes turned with hope to the still form of their master.

Mana returned in a flood, rising from beneath them, an endless torrent of energy that they pulled greedily into their cores. The pain was gone, but still they watched.

Arconidem opened both eyes.

A moment later, the attendants were crushed under the weight of the Ancient’s presence. The force of such a mighty being was intolerable, even to those who had experienced it before. Despite the difficulty and danger, in their hearts, they rejoiced.

The Demon God took in the chamber with a glance, two long arms tipped with enormous claws stretching and shifting, as if remembering how to move again.

Then the feet of the throne shifted, and the entire chamber rocked. Stone dust fell from above, showering all, even the Ancient in dust. Blazing magma began to flow, released from the stone after centuries of slumber, igniting the air which filled with suffocating ash in an instant.

Another breath, but this time a gentler one, the mana density dropping by half before it stabilised again seconds later. As each moment passed, Arconidem appeared more present, more alert than before.

Looking down at the attendants who now prostrated themselves before the living throne, the Ancient grinned a slow and menacing grin and tasted the air.

[The cycle approaches its climax.]

The thought crashed down on the attendants and pressed them to the floor. They trembled under its weight, even as their hearts soared. To experience first hand the progenitor’s mind, this was a privilege only afforded to the strong!

[The way must be prepared. Soon, my children, we will rise and taste that sweet chaos once more.]

The gathered demons, crushed by the power of the Ancient’s mind, trembled with elation. They were the chosen few who would fight alongside their God. As more mana poured from the centre of the Dungeon, they would climb up and impose Arconidem’s will. Before then, the domain of the Ancient would need to be restored to its former glory. There was much to do!

A thread drifted into the chamber and brushed against the awakened monster’s thoughts. Like a snake, the Ancient snatched it up, examined it, then wove a new thread and joined the two together.

Familiar thoughts, a familiar mind, one not felt for many years.

[Good to see I am not the first, Carriflare. What of the others, do they slumber still?]

Ever burning, blindingly bright, the other Ancient was a blast of light and heat that even the Demon God could not touch without being burned.

[I greet you, Arconidem. The time draws near, the others stir, though several are already awake. Tarriflyx will wake any day.]

[What of Yarrum?]

[Sleeping still.]

The Demon God stretched out to encompass the surroundings within its thoughts, then pushed further still, to touch the boundaries between domains. It was true, the mana felt sluggish in the neighbouring territory.

To know that it had stolen a march against its rival pleased the Ancient, though it was largely meaningless. Knowing that the Hunger would soon wake was an interesting morsel. One of two creatures with an appetite greater than Arconidem’s.

[What hope this cycle?]

The important question.

[Odren has hooked a few he likes.]

The Father of Monsters was always hunting, which was good, none of the others could be bothered.

In that moment, both of them withdrew as they felt something shift beneath them.

A torrent of mana, more pure and dense than before, blew past them, rising up and rushing out higher in the Dungeon. Arconidem took a deep breath. It was intoxicating. The energy rushed into its core and settled there, bringing life throughout its monstrous frame.

A new wave had begun.

[Time for chaos,] the Demon God grinned.