“Darkness.” “Where am I?” Light slowly returned to Boros’s vision, but it revealed nothing useful. Thick black fog pressed against him, heavy and cold, thick with a smell he knew all too well—the iron stench of fresh blood and scorched stone. “What is this fog?” Then voices drifted through the mist—harsh, guttural syllables rising and falling in eerie unison, completely alien to anything stored in his memory. ¡Kthul farrak zorn! ¡Veyra thul’nak sor! ¡Athiel keth’voss! He could not understand a single word. “What’s that sound? From the way it’s spoken, whatever is making that sound is intelligent.” “It seems I really am in another world.” The footsteps grew louder, vibrating through the stone and into his unstable form. From outside the fog, four voices rose in perfect unison. “Disperse.” A sudden gust tore through the chamber. The black mist shredded apart and vanished. Standing in the absolute center of the magic circle was a slender, inhumanly tall figure. Its frame

The Overseer wasted no time once the High Priest had left the chamber. He turned sharply to four of the remaining mages, his voice clipped and cold.“You four. Take the containment vessel to the High Priest’s laboratory. Be extra careful if you value your lives.”“Yes, sir,” they answered in unison.They cast Levitate without hesitation. The heavy cylindrical tank rose smoothly from the blood-stained floor and floated between them as they hurried out of the ritual chamber.The corridors they traversed were narrow and torch-lit, the stone walls slick with condensation and old blood. One of the mages broke the tense silence.“What do you think the High Priest will be able to achieve with this summoned creature?”The mage beside him snapped immediately.“Stop talking nonsense. The Head Priest will obviously conduct research on it and share his great discoveries with all members.”The first mage lowered his hea

Alistair scanned the room, his gaze darting from face to face. Most of his attention lingered on Stone—the old man still held his rapier with the same deadly precision he had always shown. He was well into his eighties, his head bald across the top but framed by a ring of thinning grey hair. A short beard covered his jaw, but there was no moustache beneath his nose. Despite his age, his lean, wiry frame remained steady beneath his robes, every movement controlled and deliberate.When he turned to look at the young man who had hurled the fireball moments earlier, something was already wrong.The initiate stood perfectly still. Blood began to pour from every orifice—eyes, nose, mouth, ears—streaming down his face in thick, steady rivulets. His body swayed once. His knees buckled. He collapsed forward and hit the stone floor face-first with a wet, final thud.The other controlled cultists paid their fallen comrade no mind whatsoever.Alistair’s voice was cold and clinical.“Casting a fir

"Center of all, Draw the world to thy heart. Let the many become none. Collapsing void.”Alistair completed the harsh, desperate syllables of the chant, sweat mixing with blood as it poured down his face. Cold, biting panic clutched at his chest as he felt the utter silence of his ruined utility networks. The instant-casting floor runes were gone, his spell acceleration was dead, and the female acolyte in the rear was already gathering fire while the aura-wielding swordsmen closed the distance. He was being pushed into a corner, stripped of his advantage.*No... I won't die here to these meat puppets!*His fingers gripped the few remaining chant-shortening charms hidden in his inner robes. He knew Stone was still down in the lower corridors, ruining his major arrays. A desperate, dark sneer formed on his lips as he muttered through clenched, blood-stained teeth:“I’ll drag you back here with my teleportation array... I’ll pull your broken body right into the core of the collaps

Boros stood there for a moment, posing in his new body while looking down at the face of his shocked captive. *That was reckless,* he thought. *From now on, I should practice any new skill on something other than myself. Ouroboric Transmutation… what a decision. Breaking down matter and reconstructing it. It has plenty of room for further testing.* The female cultist on the bed murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, “What are you?” Boros ignored her. He stepped forward, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her up toward him with effortless strength. Catching her by the waist, he dropped onto the edge of the bed, pinning her in place. He began his interrogation without hesitation. His grip tightened around her, his heavy authority overwhelming her resistance as she shivered under his cold, calculated stare. Leaning in close, his lips brushed past her ear, his breath hot against her skin as he exerted his dominance. She jolted in surprise, trying to pull back from his overwhelmi