The two human Monarchs were side-by-side, Northstrider muscled but covered in rags and Malice finely dressed but soft. Neither of their appearances did them justice, in Reigan Shen’s opinion.
Malice’s voice was carried to him on the wind. “You come to us so boldly, weakened as you are. Tell me, now that you have your prize, how do you plan to leave with it?”
Northstrider simply glared.
“Why do I feel like I have been severely underestimated?” Reigan asked. Now that he was back in his element, with aura nourishing him more at every second and his own spirit restoring his body, he was starting to enjoy himself.
“As I said all along, we could have shared this bounty together. I would have relished your wealth of experience—both of you—and would have been willing to set aside our years of rivalry for mutual benefit.”
“Is that what you told Tiberian?” Malice asked.
Reigan raised his eyebrows and looked from one of his peers to the other. “Tiberian wanted us to kill the Dreadgods and ascend. Would you have allowed that?”
Now that he’d recovered some of his power, he could spend a fraction on theatrics. He summoned a goblet and a jar of wine. A construct poured for him.
“I interrupted my work for this,” Northstrider said. “I will not come all this way and then allow you to escape.”
“Ah, but you see, I don’t need to escape.”
With one hand, Reigan Shen lifted the goblet to his lips. With the other, he tapped the silver cube in a throwaway gesture. It unfolded, unveiling the core binding of the Slumbering Wraith.
Its authority screamed through reality, warping the world in an invisible vortex. Color seemed to leech from everything, and immediately an image formed in the sky overhead.
A widened mouth full of sharpened fangs.
The Hunger Icon.
The Sages braced themselves against the exposed power of Subject One, but none of the Monarchs batted an eye. The Eight-Man Empire, protected as they were by their armor, looked on only with interest.
Malice’s eyes shone purple, and she radiated fury, ready to summon her armor at any second. “If you call the Dreadgods here, you will all perish with us, I promise you that.”
Reigan feigned surprise. “Here? I don’t need them here. Not yet.”
Then he activated the binding in his palm.
Invisible power and white aura thundered out from him, traveling along invisible, metaphysical paths. He had never known this was possible, never gained the insight necessary into the mechanics of reality, until Tiberian gave him the hint.
Then he’d researched on his own. He’d consulted with the Sage of Red Faith, even gathering the Dreadgod cults to gain their knowledge on the invincibility of the Dreadgods.
Ultimately, he’d realized what he needed to do. He would fuse with this binding and become the new Slumbering Wraith, attaining immortality and power beyond the dreams of Monarchs.
He had intended to take over the labyrinth first, then recover his power, then become the new Dreadgod. He was doing things a little out of order.
But it would all be worth it. All of it…once the Dreadgods were awakened.
At the heart of a mountain range far to the north of Sacred Valley, the Wandering Titan dug deeper into a chasm of its own construction.
It could have controlled the surrounding aura to make a tunnel, but it didn’t bother. Why expend energy it didn’t have to?
So with every movement, it burrowed deeper into the earth, and the nation above it split further. A city collapsed over its head, buildings crashing on its shell, and it didn’t even feel them. It was digging for something that smelled delicious.
The Titan finally burst through a metal container almost as big as its own rib cage. Inside, there was a structure of interlocking metal swirling with sand that glowed gold. A relic of ancient times; the Titan could smell the ancient aura in every grain of sand.
The device gave off the impression of distant lands, and the will of its creators was ingrained deep. It was meant to birth a city, or maybe revive one, and then carry it to distant worlds through the void.
Not that any of that mattered to the Titan. It took in the details without consideration, tore off a chunk of the ancient metal frame, and shoved the piece into its mouth.
Over its head, sacred artists fled in every direction, but the Titan had already begun feeding. Earth aura flowed into it from miles around, and power of all sorts flooded from the ancient device.
The Titan continued to crunch down on the vessel, but it fed on more than just what entered its mouth. The entire device grew weaker and weaker as it fed, power of all kinds flowing into the Titan. Soulfire, willpower, authority, madra, aura…it all went to fill the empty space inside the Titan.