The shadow demon trembled as it stood before the forest. It had faced legendary beasts and dungeon cores that did not possess even half the presence this forest radiated. Where most would see only trees, the demon saw the open jaws of a colossal beast, waiting to snap shut.

  A creak echoed as the trees shifted. From the deep darkness of the forest stepped a man with a golden tan, scales accenting his features. He strode into the light at the forest’s edge, wrapped in layered robes, a thick tail trailing behind him. His face was unconcerned, but his eyes were hard as they settled on the shadow demon.

  “And what brings one of you to my doorstep?” Matthias asked in a bored tone. One hand slipped between the layers of his robes and came to rest easily.

  “My lord sent me with a gift,” the demon replied, its voice trembling. “A speaking mirror. It is paired with one in his possession.”

  The demon tapped a bag at its hip and withdrew a full?length mirror with an intricately carved frame. The magic woven into it was unmistakable—its surface glowed faintly, and the air around it hummed with restrained potential.

  “So your lord wishes to speak?” Matthias asked, still bored.

  “Indeed. Lord Nefertut wishes to talk,” the demon said, lowering its head. “If you promise my safety, I will venture far enough into your domain to deliver the mirror.”

  Matthias stepped forward.

  The demon froze as the crushing weight of the dungeon’s influence wrapped around it.

  “You were never outside my influence,” Matthias sighed, placing a hand on the mirror’s frame. He studied it for a long moment before looking back at the demon. “You may leave. You are not worth the effort to hunt.”

  The demon’s eyes dilated fully as it turned and fled, dropping to all fours. Matthias tasted its fear as it dissolved into shadow and vanished into the distance.

  Snorting in mild amusement, Matthias took another step and was suddenly within his private quarters. He set the mirror into a prepared section of the wall, then placed a bench in front of it. For a moment, he simply contemplated the artifact. Then, mustering his will, he ran his fingers across the surface. It rippled like disturbed water. As the ripples slowly settled, he eased himself onto the bench.

  The reflection changed.

  A large, ancient goat?man now filled the mirror. He wore tattered robes and old pelts, his frame heavy with enchanted items—amulets, rings, and charm bracelets layered without care. The horns atop his head were gnarled and misshapen with age. His pelt had gone long and gray, his nails thick and jagged. Yet his eyes still burned with fire.

  “Not what I was expecting,” Nefertut said. “For the personification of survival of the fittest, I expected a monster. Instead, I see a Father of Monsters.”

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  Matthias merely raised an eyebrow.

  “You likely have a mountain of questions,” Nefertut continued. “But for the moment, I have only one. What would it take for you to join my faction?”

  “I won’t,” Matthias answered easily.

  “Even if my entire faction attacked you?” Nefertut pressed, eyes narrowing.

  Matthias laughed.

  “I fail to see how that is amusing,” Nefertut said.

  “A single druid just ended a Demon King within my domain,” Matthias replied. “From what I could tell, it possessed infinite regeneration. Now there isn’t a trace of it left. If such a being could not truly threaten me, what hope would the rest of your faction have?”

  “It was without an army,” Nefertut argued.

  “No,” Matthias interrupted. “I filled the seas with life. The army it summoned became nothing more than food. Just because the surface world did not witness that part of the battle does not mean it never happened—much like the war between the gods.”

  Nefertut’s eyes narrowed. “I am not sure I know what you speak of.”

  “I see,” Matthias said dryly. “You are under a geas—a compulsion or promise not to speak of certain things.”

  Nefertut looked away and grunted.

  “I am fixing it,” Matthias said gently.

  Nefertut’s gaze snapped back to him, silent but pleading.

  “I have diminished the suppression of life,” Matthias explained. “It should be easier for life to take root in the coming age. I have also focused my expansion above ground. My dungeon is only six floors deep, if I am honest.”

  “You should hide your core deeper,” Nefertut warned.

  “I am my core,” Matthias replied.

  Nefertut’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

  “You are nurturing a concept?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes,” Matthias confirmed.

  “I see,” Nefertut said, sinking into contemplation.

  Matthias allowed the silence. Every moment he bought worked in his favor.

  “What do you need?” Nefertut finally asked, meeting Matthias’s eyes. “What will it take to finish this—to undo the Sundering?”

  Matthias sighed. He had hoped to avoid this question.

  “The system is failing,” he said. “Modern power is only a fraction of ancient power. Cultivation is already vastly outpacing leveling.”

  “The system is artificial,” Nefertut admitted. “But it should not be degrading.”

  “So Order created the system,” Matthias mused. “Good to know that concept still exists. Did you know the Sundering did not destroy any concepts?”

  “Then why can I not access mine?” Nefertut asked bitterly.

  “Have you heard of the concept of an idiot god?” Matthias asked.

  “I cannot say that I have.”

  “It is the idea that if gods exist, then certain cornerstones of reality must have a vessel,” Matthias explained. “When your connection was severed, all that truly happened was the loss of your management authority. Your concept still presses on reality—unmanaged, but fully realized.”

  “If you are correct,” Nefertut said slowly, “that is very bad.”

  Matthias nodded. “I have encountered chaos mana several times. Those severed ideals and concepts are mixing. Like a pot left unattended, it will eventually boil over. I have added something to cool it and buy us time—but I do not know how much.”

  “So you need time,” Nefertut said. “How much?”

  “I am only Ultra?Rare rarity,” Matthias admitted.

  “Then how—”

  “I come from a world where magic no longer existed,” Matthias said. “My soul was placed here. I was told only to follow my heart. And my heart tells me to fill this world with life.”

  Nefertut nodded slowly. “What is your plan to fix the world?”

  “I see only two paths,” Matthias said. “Either cultivation becomes the sole route to power, or we formalize portfolios so power can be more easily passed along. I dislike both—but I am leaning toward cultivation.”

  “And why is that?” Nefertut asked.

  “There is more narrative to it,” Matthias replied.