anwhile, within the Necrotic Realm.
In this desolate dinsion, there was no cycle of sunrise or moonfall. The sky
was an eternal, stagnant canvas of bruised grey, pressing down upon a world that
knew only the silence of the grave. As far as the eye could see, the land was a
jagged mosaic of cracked lithosphere and a literal sea of bleached remains.
This was the kingdom of the departed—the final destination for all things.
A monolithic palace sat at the absolute center of the great wasteland. Its
structure was not composed of stone or brick, but the ossified remains of a
creature of impossible proportions. Titanic ribs curved upward into the grey
heavens, supporting a vaulted ceiling that reached a hundred ters into the
air.
The palace gates towered dozens of ters high. Before them stood two rows of
Skeleton Sentinels, each exceeding two ters in height. They clutched massive
polearms forged of reinforced bone, and the Soulfire within their eye sockets
burned with the steady, flickering radiance of sentience.
These were Tier 3 undead—beings of cold, calculating intelligence.
Deep within the palace, in the Throne Hall, the space was vast enough to house
an entire legion of ten thousand without feeling crowded. Suddenly, the air in
the center of the hall began to ripple without warning. A singular point
manifested in the void, then tore open into a jagged, bleeding rift in reality.
A mont later, a figure stepped through the warped threshold.
It was a skeleton. Yet, it was fundantally different from any of the millions
that inhabited this palace.
Thanatos stood nearly three ters tall, his entire fra composed of
pitch-black bone that seed to drink the very light around it. Atop his skull
rested a crown of serrated bone-spikes, each embedded with a grey
gemstone—shards of shattered Plane Cores.
Within his eye sockets, two masses of violet-gold Soulfire burned with
terrifying intensity.
The Skeleton King, Thanatos.
The undisputed monarch of the Necrotic Realm, and an absolute powerhouse at the
Peak of Tier 7.
The mont Thanatos stepped onto the floor, the spatial rift closed silently,
vanishing as if it had never existed. He had barely begun to flex his rigid
joints when a figure appeared before him.
It was a High Lich draped in obsidian robes. He dropped to one knee, his skull
bowed low, his voice carrying a note of carefully suppressed fanaticism.
"Supre Monarch, we welco your glorious return."
Thanatos did not speak. He rely stood there, rotating his shoulders. The
friction of his black bones emitted a series of sharp, rhythmic clicks. It was
much more comfortable than the void.
The Lich remained kneeling, comncing his report.
"My King, the Great Planar War has officially concluded. We have spent five
centuries and mobilized seventy percent of the Necrotic Realm's total military
strength."
"The Tier 7 plane, designated 'The Fungal World,' has been entirely devoured. It
has been successfully integrated into our territory."
"According to final tallies, our side suffered a total loss of 3,241 undead
legions. This includes thirteen elite vanguard legions. Our total casualties
exceed half of the forces initially deployed."
Despite the staggering numbers, the Lich's tone did not falter. Instead, it rose
in a crescendo of excitent.
"However! The rewards are monuntal! The total surface area of the Necrotic
Realm has expanded by 27.4%! The stability of our Plane Core has increased
by 3%!"
"At this rate, my King, we require only one more conquest of similar magnitude.
Then, the Necrotic Realm shall break its shackles and officially ascend to the
status of a Tier 8 Plane!"
The Lich's voice echoed through the vaulted hall, brimming with a zealot's
vision for the future. Thanatos listened to the statistics, but the violet-gold
Soulfire in his eyes remained as still as a frozen lake. To him, these were
rely steps on a ladder.
Ignoring the kneeling Lich, Thanatos strode toward the throne at the end of the
hall. He sat, propping his chin on a hand of black bone, looking down at his
servant with a detached, slow drawl.
"How long until the legions are restored?"
"Three hundred years."
The Lich's answer was instantaneous, calculated long ago. "Three centuries of
dormancy and recruitnt will suffice to replenish every legion lost in the
campaign. Our military strength will return to pre-war levels—and given our
territorial expansion, our total troop capacity will likely see a marginal
increase."
Thanatos nodded slightly.
Three hundred years. To the short-lived mortal races, that was several
generations. To Thanatos, it was the length of a long afternoon nap.
Seeing that his Monarch had no further instructions, the Lich paused before
continuing.
"My King, there is one more matter that requires your personal judgnt. During
the final phase of the fungal world's consumption, our Planar Observatory
captured a brand-new set of coordinates. A plane previously unrecorded by our
maps."
"Preliminary energy fluctuation analysis suggests the target is a Tier 7 Plane."
The Lich's tone wavered, a hint of confusion creeping in.
"Furthermore... the laws governing this plane are highly anomalous. They are
fundantally different from any world we have previously conquered. It appears
to be... growing at an impossible rate."
The Soulfire in Thanatos's eyes leaped. A Tier 7 Plane that is still growing?
That was unheard of. Most planes entered a state of stagnation once their gods
fell or their resources peaked. Their cores beca mindless, like a machine
running without an operating system. To maintain the status quo was an
achievent; to continue growing was a mathematical impossibility.
Unless...
Unless that plane's core had birthed a new consciousness.
Or rather, unless so entity had seized Administrative Authority over the
world's fundantal laws.
"Fascinating," Thanatos said, his voice echoing through the silence. "Standard
infiltration and reconnaissance protocols likely won't work on a plane with a
self-aware will."
He leaned back against the cold bone of his throne. "Let's stick to the old
ways."
"Bring her to ."
The Lich pressed his forehead against the floor in a deep kowtow. "As you
command, my King."
In the next heartbeat, the Lich dissolved into the shadows, vanishing without a
trace. Thanatos was once again alone in the massive hall.
He looked up at the ceiling. There, suspended in the air, was a gargantuan,
rotating grey crystal. Within its depths, countless specks of light swirled like
a miniature galaxy.
It was the projection of the Necrotic Realm's Plane Core—the source of all
Thanatos's power.
"A living Tier 7 Plane..." Thanatos murmured to himself. "If I can devour it
whole, this realm will ascend instantly. And I... I shall finally breach the
barrier into Tier 8."
A flicker of raw hunger, one even he didn't fully acknowledge, danced in his
eyes.
Tier 8. A rank of legend. Even in the ancient era when the Gods walked the
earth, only the most powerful of Divine Servants ever dared to touch that
height.
Now, the Gods were dead. But the planes remained.
As long as he continued to devour, to pillage, and to turn the husks of other
worlds into his own sustenance, he would reach that summit.
One day, he would stand where the Old Gods once stood.
And perhaps... he would leave them far beneath his feet.
☆☆☆
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