Grimm, World of Eldoria

Grimm was Aina’s territory. At its heart stood her Windmill Keep—a place that, to Aerin the Wood Elf, Caesar with his endless craving for steamed buns, and Scarecrow Branric, was packed with childhood nostalgia.

Multicolor light spilled from crystal chandeliers, illuminating tables shaped like fluffy clouds of cotton candy. Enchanted silverware danced automatically across the table, surrounded by mushroom chairs that blew rainbow bubbles. A floating tower of strawberry cake hummed a soft, nostalgic lullaby about the distant moon of a lost homeland.

Scarecrow Branric slowly opened his eyes, physically forcing himself out of the comforting haze of the memory.

"Fairy tales are built on lies," Branric rasped. "As nice as this place is, I’d rather know why the Boss called us all here."

Hearing the Scarecrow speak, Aerin, Caesar, and Tangere snapped out of their nostalgic daze and turned to their host, Aina.

"I just provided the venue," Aina said, gesturing across the table. "Tangere is the one with the intel."

Everyone looked at Tangere. The cloaked man slowly finished chewing his fruit tart, set down his dancing fork, and sat up straight.

"I just got the word," Tangere began. "The Boss is gearing up for a world-scale war. The timeline is indefinite. Moving forward, he needs Aerin and Branric to produce astronomical stockpiles of food."

Technically, the newborn Titanion Realm was massively expansive. It wouldn’t lack arable land. However, Orion wasn’t about to gamble the Stoneheart Horde’s food supply on unsecure territory. The Titanion Realm was about to enter an era of absolute chaos.

In Commander Thresh’s words, it was going to be a bloodbath that would crack the skulls of countless powerhouses.

An era like that guaranteed endless natural and man-made disasters. A poison specialist like Tangere could easily engineer a plague to wipe out a faction’s entire harvest. Orion knew the Profane Lands had plenty of monsters capable of doing exactly that. To be safe, he was massively scaling up the Horde’s off-world rations.

"Also," Tangere said, tapping a finger hard against the table to emphasize his next point. "Aina, Caesar, Branric, and myself—we have the option to volunteer for the vanguard."

He let that hang in the air for a second. "The Boss said this war will drag out, but it will involve countless Primordial Treasures. The resources and territory up for grabs are enough to push us all the way to demigod. He also made it clear that fighting for those resources guarantees casualties. If you choose to deploy, get your affairs in order first."

Tangere’s tone grew heavy. He scanned their faces, hoping to see fear or hesitation. Truthfully, after spending so much time with this little crew, he had grown attached to them. He wanted these under-leveled kids to back out. Even a Lord like him was just going to be a background character in this war. The real players tearing up the battlefield would be invincible Arch Lords and demigods. Compared to them, everyone at this table was cannon fodder.

"I’m in," Aina declared without missing a beat. Her expression was fiercely determined, completely dismissing the mortal danger. "This is exactly the breakthrough opportunity I’ve been waiting for."

"Count me in, too," Caesar said firmly. "I know my combat power is low and I don’t have an army to bring, but this is my chance to repay the Boss. I’m not missing it."

As a Sword King, Caesar had made his peace with death a long time ago. Fighting for justice and the people he cared about was the core of his path with the blade.

"I’ll pass on the frontline," Scarecrow Branric said, shaking his head. He could easily draft a massive army of combat-oriented scarecrows, and he wasn’t weak himself. However, he knew his logistical value. Growing the Horde’s food supply was vastly more strategic to Orion than throwing himself into the meat grinder.

Tangere nodded. It was their choice. He wouldn’t interfere. Besides, as small fry, they probably wouldn’t even qualify for the main battlefields.

"This is so hard... I don’t know what to choose!" Aerin groaned, burying her face in her hands. Ever since the war in the Silverwood Realm ended, the Forest of Nature had enjoyed Orion’s absolute protection. Aerin, The Decadent Elf Queen, had been living the ultimate slacker lifestyle, doing nothing but eating and sleeping.

"The Boss didn’t invite you to the battlefield," Tangere said flatly, shooting her a side-glance. He couldn’t imagine a lazy deadweight like Aerin surviving even three days on the front. She’d probably die in the opening skirmish.

"He’s not rejecting the Wood Elves," Tangere clarified. "He’s just rejecting you. He doesn’t want an idiot wandering onto the battlefield, especially on his side. Those were the Boss’s exact words. Don’t shoot the messenger."

Thwack! Thwack!

Aina, Caesar, and Branric all turned to stare at Aerin. In that moment, they could practically see the metaphorical daggers plunging into Aerin’s chest.

Aerin froze, staring blankly ahead as her face flushed crimson with sheer, unfiltered humiliation. A second later, she snapped.

"Ahhhh! Hulk, you arrogant jerk! You’ve gone too far!" she shrieked, her hysterical wails echoing off the walls of the keep.

...

Within the Origin Sea of the Titanion Realm, heaven and earth ceased to exist. Chaos and clarity churned together as one, leaving only the raw currents of cosmic laws flowing through the void.

In this silent expanse, a few low voices broke the stillness.

"Chaos parts. The heavens and earth align. The previous era has returned to the void, and the dawn of a new age must now awaken!"

Orion stood tall within the Origin Sea, his four-headed, eight-armed form completely solidified like a primordial fiend god. Following the obliteration of the original world, his comprehension of the cosmic laws had deepened drastically. Right now, his divine fire burned fiercely, throbbing with power. It was the absolute precursor to condensing his divine soul!

The standard progression for a demigod was strictly linear: gestate divine power through faith, use that power to ignite divine fire, forge a divine soul within the fire, comprehend a divine calling through the soul, and finally use that calling to birth a Divine Spark. Only with a Divine Spark could one condense a Divine Vessel.

Orion had already bypassed the first two stages and was on the verge of forming his divine soul. Combined with his half-baked fourth stage (divine calling) and sixth stage (Divine Vessel), he could already go toe-to-toe with a true stage-four demigod. Add in the entire Platinum Realm gifted by Commander Thresh, and the world-class authority backing him made his current power absolutely terrifying.

Here in the Titanion Realm, Orion effectively possessed the might of a true stage-five powerhouse. However, this power spike was strictly geo-locked to the Titanion Realm, his personal domain. A portion of this realm had already been assimilated into his Divine Kingdom.

Of course, Orion wasn’t the only one. Three other entities in the Titanion Realm currently held that same level of power and authority.

"It’s hard to imagine anyone daring enough to skip the early demigod stages just to force the manifestation of a Divine Vessel," a raspy voice echoed.

To Orion’s left, the statue-like form of The Lifeless Dreadgod bubbled up from The Currents of Reality. He stared at Orion’s four-headed, eight-armed Divine Vessel, his face a mix of deep caution and blatant envy.

A Divine Vessel was the exact realm Dreadgod had been chasing. He had been bottlenecked at the fifth stage—the Divine Spark—for a very long time. The Divine Spark was a manifestation of destiny, the ultimate blooming of an individual’s brilliance. After the bloom came the fruit. The Lifeless Dreadgod was still stuck in the blooming phase, desperate to bear fruit.

"It’s not you," Orion said, shaking his head as he looked at The Lifeless Dreadgod. This wasn’t the Dark Deity he had in mind. "Which means this doesn’t belong to you either."

Orion opened his hands. Two pages of The Chapter of the Profane hovered over his palms. He had gotten one from the cloaked man, Vaelian, and ripped the other from Insect Queen Moriphara when she fled.

"Why ask a question you already know the answer to?" Dreadgod replied. "Those pages are priceless, but they burn anyone who holds them."

Dreadgod made no move to claim them. Even as a fellow Dark Deity, The Chapter of the Profane was a liability he didn’t want to touch.

"You misunderstand me," Orion said, stowing the pages away. "I was just hoping you had more. I wouldn’t mind expanding my collection."

He had flashed the pages to bait Dreadgod into revealing his own stash. Unfortunately, the Dreadgod was empty-handed.

"The Four Gods show mercy to all living things. Ascend The Dais of Judgment, and eternal life shall be yours! I thank the Four Gods for guiding me through the darkness, granting me rebirth from the rot."

Just as Orion put away the pages, a massive, ethereal projection of The Dais of Judgment breached The Currents of Reality opposite him. Archbishop Kysar stood atop it, wearing a triple tiara and golden robes. A suffocating wave of pure, holy aura washed over the area.

"Nothing but a bunch of false gods," Dreadgod sneered before Orion could even speak. "You borrow their power to play dress-up, but none of you will ever achieve true godhood."

He violently ripped away the Cult of Four’s facade, striking right at Archbishop Kysar’s deepest insecurity. To be locked out of godhood with no path forward was absolute despair for a stage-five demigod. It was especially bitter for Kysar, who knew deep down that he and his peers were nothing more than glorified slaves and puppets to the Four Gods.

"Blasphemers of the Four Gods shall be purged!" Whether to defend his gods’ honor or his own fragile ego, Archbishop Kysar unleashed a torrent of cosmic law threads, hurling them straight at The Lifeless Dreadgod.

The Dreadgod just chuckled. His statuesque form blurred, effortlessly absorbing the incoming threads of law like a sponge.

"A world reborn. A new era dawns. The order of this place needs to be rewritten."

A sickening chittering echoed through the void as a colossal, spider-like monstrosity crawled out from the weave of laws. Standing atop it was Insect Queen Moriphara.

"The Brood Empress!" The Lifeless Dreadgod balked. "You crazy bitch. You actually sacrificed enough to summon that? Aren’t you afraid it’ll devour your entire race?"

Moriphara ignored him. The Brood Empress beneath her remained completely unresponsive, acting like a lifeless husk.

"Giant King," Moriphara said, locking eyes with Orion. "The world’s order needs to be set back on track, don’t you agree?"

In this realm of pure laws, Orion’s solidified physical form gave him a massive advantage. Moriphara asking for his input was a direct acknowledgment of his superior strength.

"The world order definitely needs a reset," Orion growled, taking a heavy step forward. "But not just anyone has the right to touch it."

At his command, thousands of laws surged into a massive tidal wave, crashing directly toward Moriphara. Holding the home-field advantage, Orion decided to test the waters. Moriphara seemed like the weakest link, the easiest target to crush first.

However, Moriphara’s strength vastly exceeded his expectations. Or more accurately, her mount was terrifyingly strong. The Brood Empress simply unhinged its jaws and swallowed Orion’s surging wave of laws whole.