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

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

an endless torrent of energy that they pulled greedily into their cores.

Arconidem opened both eyes.

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

with a glance, two long arms tipped with enormous claws stretching and shifting, as if remembering how to move

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

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

before the living throne, the Ancient grinned a slow and

cycle approaches

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

children, we will rise and taste

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

monster’s thoughts. Like a snake, the Ancient snatched it up, examined it, then wove a new thread

one not

Carriflare.

Ancient was a blast of light and heat that even

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

[What of Yarrum?]

[Sleeping still.]