Too Stubborn to Die

“BAHAHA. Did you see that?” Oozagh chuckled as he swayed back and pointed at the viewing screen. Even as he laughed, he bit from an obscenely large leg of some exotic meat, and washed it down with some ale. “He is going to be so mad! BAHAH! Death God, more like Bottom God, BAHAHA!”

“Really, Oozagh?” Yendal sighed, her image displayed on a smaller screen. “After so many years, you are still so immature.”

“Oh, don’t act so uptight. Live a little, Yendie!”

“Do not call me that.”

“Bahah! You’re so easy to rile up. There was something curious I wanted to mention, though.”

“Oh? Curious?”

“Yes. Did you know, the admins told me somebody had already contacted them before I did. Strange, don’t you think?”

“Is it?” Yendal shrugged. “This Integration has been of particular interest to many gods. Who knows who might have been watching.”

“Right.” Oozagh nodded thoughtfully. “But only peak gods have a direct line to the admins. Your man toy blessed the asura, didn’t he? Lenriel blessed at least one of them, but he wouldn’t lift a finger for just any disciple. Who else possesses a True Blessing in that group?”

“You expect me to know the status of every mortal?”

“Okay, fine. Play coy.”

“I’m not playing anything. It could have been anybody. There were countless eyes on this Integration dungeon.”

“Ha! You expect me to believe that? But that doesn’t matter. That’s not the only reason I wanted to talk. They told me that when I used my divine energy to fiddle with that Title, that my meddling had been approved by a second-peak god, allowing it to circumvent System approval. And I can’t think of anybody else it could have been.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. We’re ending this transmission,” Yendal said, and her screen flickered off.

“BAHAHAH! Caught you, Yendie! Acting like that wasn’t hilarious. Death God’s Daddy. BAHAHA!” Oozagh laughed at his own joke, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

Calming himself, Oozagh drank from his never-ending ale flagon and slammed it down.

Just as Oozagh thought his entertainment for the day was coming to a close, the massive doors to his inner chamber swung open.

“Who is—oh, it’s you. Long time no see. So, you did make it to godhood after all, aunty.”

“Hello to you too, nephew. It seems that you’re even fatter than I remember, Chubby Cheeks.”

“Chubby? How dare you! I’m positively robust! Take that back!” Oozagh said, grabbing his belly with both hands and jiggling it to emphasize its size.

As Oozagh looked at his aunt, whom he hadn’t seen for several millennia, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed in his own bloodline. Her face was sculpted and sharp, not round like an ogre’s should be. Her underbite was barely noticeable, and her fangs were tiny, almost human-like. Her hair was long, shiny like an elven mane, lacking the rough, split ends befitting of an ogre. And there was a delicacy to it all that made him uncomfortable, like he could tell that she was soft just looking at her. She even had abs, which she proudly displayed, wearing an armored chestpiece that left her midsection bare. Everything about her appearance was a disgrace for an ogre.

“I am surprised you’d even travel through the ogre prime worlds with how much you’ve changed.”

“Me?” His aunty’s brows perked. “I’m not the only one who has changed. I heard that you are a patron god of that human. And not only that, but you share patronage with Yendal the Empty-Handed. I would never have guessed. Certainly a strange choice for you.”

“Is it? BAH! He’s not so bad. More ogre than some of our kind,” Oozagh said, eyeing his aunt.

“Don’t get started with that ‘No True Ogre fallacy’ bullshit!” She wagged a finger. “Some of us appreciate the finer things in life. There’s no reason that should detract from our commitment to our people. Besides, when it comes to this recent event, it was my disciple who was an ogre.”

“Huh? Ogre disciple? What are you on about? Tell me, why are you here anyway? Why do you burst into my chamber? You’re a minor god, I see. Is it that you seek my blessing to challenge the pantheon? Tell me? You must have a reason for coming all this way.”

“No. I don’t seek support from you. I’m just curious. That’s all. Was that Yendal I heard you speaking with earlier? Perhaps you’re more involved in divine disputes than I realized.”

“What does that have to do with Yendal or Aaron?”

“I’m sure you know what people are talking about.”

“The Death God?” Oozagh said, growing more serious.

“Yes.”

“So, you do still work with Lenriel then?”

“I do,” nodded his aunt. “The order he brings is important. I am thankful that there are some peak gods that take their jobs seriously. Now, tell me, what is your involvement?”

“None!” Oozagh bellowed. “I suppose you’re asking because of the dungeon floor? But I can’t answer you. I have taken a liking to young Aaron, I won’t deny that. But I have many disciples, and my attention is spread thinly. And I pay little attention to that depressing son of a bitch who calls himself the Death God.”

“I see,” she sighed. “I told Lenriel that coming here was pointless. But he insisted. He still doesn’t want to ask Yendal himself, and he knows I haven’t the power to enter her realm.”

“He’s still sore about that ass-kicking she gave him so long ago? BAHAH! You’ve given me a good laugh, aunty! I forgive you for entering uninvited. And tell your master that if I learn anything useful, I shall share it with him.”

“That’s something at least. See you around, Oozagh.”

Death God

“Interference?” The Death God sneered, falling back into his throne of skulls. “What admin dares speak to me so?”

The Death God had seen Aaron’s new Title, and he was furious. The failure of his plans was neither here nor there. A minor bump that could easily be resolved. But to insult him with such a Title was something else entirely.

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“You,” he pointed at a spectre standing silently in his throne room. “Find out which gods are responsible for this.”

“Yes,” the spectre nodded, and faded through the wall.

“How dare they insult me like this?”

The Death God’s plans were still moving along, and no mortal could change that. It was, however, annoying.

He turned to a map that dotted all of his disciples across the multiverse. They were his pawns, the pillars for his deathly power. But there was still one important piece he needed to take care of before everything could come together.

“Lenriel…”

If Aaron killed Darius before his plans could be completed, it would delay them, but not ruin them.

“I might need another disciple. Unless…”

There was a backup plan, if necessary. But with Sovereign presence, the risk was far too high.

“It seems that the time is quickly approaching. A new dawn is arriving.”

Epilogue 2

Mala had been ready to attack. She had wanted to attack. They were humans, after all. But she had resisted.

Why? Perhaps an old sense of honor. A memory of what she had once been. Before the System, she herself had been ambushed when recovering many times, and it had angered her.

Hate was one thing, but it was important not to devolve into exactly what she hated. A fact she had managed to remind herself of at the very last moment.

It matters not. Their time will come. It will come for all of them. And our universe will be claimed for beastkind.

Rage had gripped her for a moment, almost causing her to do something beyond reckless, but she had managed to restrain herself.

Even if she had the strength to defeat the boss alone, the deathly energy coming from the undead had been sickening. She had quickly realized that, and when she saw the human seemingly unbothered by it, she knew he was the only one who would be able to resist it enough to complete the dungeon.

And if she had failed now, there was a very real chance the beasts in her lands, the sector, and beyond, would be pressed beneath the heel of humankind, and that was not something she could risk.

Send me back to my world already! Mala thought as the System energy wrapped around her.

There would no doubt be many humans at the auction house, and she was not looking forward to it.

Although, perhaps she could get some unorthodox revenge. She did have plenty of credits, after all…

Sovereign Space

Gathered in one of many warchambers, Lenriel’s battlemasters moved figures on a massive board. They were but one of his many armies scattered across the multiverse, and their station was tasked with command over an entire universe.

A soldier marched into the chamber and saluted as he stepped up to the commanders. “Battlemasters!”

“Yes? News from the front?”

“Aye! And from Lenriel himself!”

“Speak up, then.”

“Lenriel informs his battlemasters that new champions from the most recent universe have succeeded in completing the dungeon. And that the next phase of the mission has commenced.”

“Good,” one battlemaster scratched his chin.

“And what of our reinforcements? His corruption spread here too,” Another interjected.

“Recruits are being sent to prime sectors to prevent the Death God from completing his circle. Including low-grade warriors to assist on weaker worlds.”

“Sounds like things are not so bad after all.”

“Yes,” another battlemaster agreed. “But the balance is fragile. Lenriel keeps the completion of his circle at bay. And we require endless forces to keep core worlds from falling to his corruption. A real solution must be found eventually. At this rate, he will simply creep further and further into our territory.”

An uncomfortable calm settled over the warchamber. Knowing that the new universe was not yet lost was a great relief to their plans, but there was still far too much uncertainty.

“And messenger…”

“What is it, battlemaster?”

“What of that unusual man I’ve heard of? Have the shinigami finally allied with the Death God?”

“No word, battlemaster. But I’ve heard whispers in the divine realms. Even many gods are uncertain of exactly what is happening.”

Hushed murmurs filled the room of B and A-grade battlemasters. They were world-conquering champions in their own right. Many were lord that ruled over vast stretches of their sectors, with armies at their command. They held names that were revered by the millions.

But compared to the gods, they were but mere foot soldiers.

“Thank you for this information—wait, what’s that?”

“Corrupted space?” Questioned a battlemaster, activating Skills as he drew a blade.

The dozen battlemasters looked around as they felt the foul energy seep into the chamber.

“What power… it can’t be? We have the barrier up! Powered by the light of Lenriel himself!”

The B-grade battlemasters clutched at their own throats as if unable to breathe, not that they needed to at their level. While the A-grades struggled to stand upright against the wicked aura pouring into the warchamber.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. It appears that you picked the wrong side,” The Death God said as his ghastly form stepped straight through the wall, instantly materializing on the other side.

An A-grade battlemaster called up all of his strength, activating multiple Skills and buffs to overcome the aura as he stepped toward the god with his massive sword.

“In Lenriel’s—”

With an effortless flick of his wrist, a burst of corrupted aether disintegrated the battlemaster.

“Oh, there’s really no point in resisting,” a wide, necrotic smile crept across the Death God’s bluish skin.

Darius

Darius stood atop the tower he was building. It was massive, hundreds of stories tall, and getting bigger by the day as countless undead worked tirelessly without break.

From there, he watched over the land. The corruption spread further and wider by the day, the land itself twisting and changing—mutating.

There was no stopping it. His undead empire was growing larger and spreading. It conquered more and more land. And with each obelisk he corrupted, the land became poisoned, and life fled.

With the top rankers of his world gone, it was too easy. The corrupted aether generated from his corrupted obelisks strengthened his minions, while weakening everybody else.

Of course, there were rebellions. There always were. But each and every time, they were crushed, and their numbers integrated into his own.

“Soon. So very soon.”

In a short time, his army had spread across a third of his gigantic new world. The numbers of his forces were staggering, and he hadn’t even replaced his champion yet.

Better still, as a minion directly under his command, he earned experience from their achievements, and while it was only a fraction of what he would earn fighting himself, the size of his army was well and truly making up for it. And now he was getting dangerously close to C-grade.

His rise was exponential, and inevitable. Every moment the top rankers were gone, his rise became more cemented. A reality that they would find impossible to resist.

And while there were still dozens of settlements along the frontiers under siege from both the corrupted aether and his minions. They wouldn’t last long.

The reality was, they couldn’t do anything to save themselves. They were too weak to fight in his corrupted lands. Corruption that was spreading around their very settlements, kept out only by their barriers that would soon fail.

In fact, if he so chose, he could go out and destroy them himself. But he had more important things to do.

While his armies fueled him with an endless stream of experience, leveling his Class, Darius was busy working on his Profession.

Every soul consumed by the obelisks was feeding him. Energy that poured into his deathly cauldron. Energy that could be used to create more monstrosities to lead his army, and in the process of their construction, provide more levels for Darius’ Profession.

He laughed.

He had been a little disappointed by how quickly Johan had died. But even that seemed so meaningless now. Sure, he would miss out on some treasures, but so what? What did any of that matter compared to converting the world in his image?

He did need to find himself a new champion, though, and the world was decisively short on worthy candidates with them all inside the dungeon.

But soon they would be out, and soon he would claim another. It was too late now. They could try all they wanted. But they would not turn back his mark on this world.

The Death God had shown him what needed to be done, and he was well on his way to completing it.

What fools they were. Leaving the world in my hands undefended while they go and chase treasures.

Darius inhaled the deathly air deep into his lungs and turned to descend back into his fortress.

Enjoying the view was always so pleasant, but he needed to get back to work now.