Chrysalis

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.

still slumbering, the Demon God smiled, then drew

their cores screamed out in pain. Deprived of the energy that gave them life, the God’s attendants writhed even as their eyes turned

beneath them, an endless torrent of energy that

Arconidem opened both eyes.

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,

Demon God took in the chamber with a glance, two long arms tipped

Ancient in dust. Blazing magma began to flow, released

breath, but this time a gentler one, the mana density dropping by half before it stabilised

now prostrated themselves before the living throne, the Ancient grinned a slow

cycle approaches

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

we will rise and taste that sweet chaos once

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

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

mind, one not

Carriflare.

and heat that even the Demon God could not touch without being

you, Arconidem. The time draws near, the others stir, though

[What of Yarrum?]

[Sleeping still.]