AN: Almost all of the Green Sun Princes that appear in this work were made by the members in the SV thread.

Dislaimer: I do not own Code Geass, which is propriety of Studio Sunrise, and neither do I own Exalted, which is property of White Wolf Publishing.

This fiction originally appeared as a quest-style story on the forum Sufficient Velocity. As such do not be confused by the strange structure.

The Infernal Exalts of Code Geass: Green Sun Princess Lian

Lian wept as she ate. She loathed herself for her weakness. But she was so hungry. The hunger was all consuming.

Once upon a time she was quite happy with her life. Yes, she had her share of struggles, just as almost everyone did in the Chinese Federation. Her mother had died giving birth to her baby brother Xin, leaving Lian to raise him. Having no education she had little choice but to enter into her mother's occupation, selling her body to men to get by. Unlike many who joined the world's oldest profession she did not hate it. She was never truly beautiful, but she was pretty, so getting clients had never been an issue. She and her brother were fed, and She came to enjoy the work, both because she made her clients happy and that it just felt good, at least when the man in question was nice. The last one who had not been so nice was the cause of her current situation.

She had approached a member of the local Triad one night, offering her services. He had accepted. The night had been anything but pleasant. He had wanted far more than he had offered to pay her, and when he was done with her he had taken out a knife and horribly scarred her face for daring to resist him.

Everything had gone downhill from there. Scarred and hideous as she was, nobody would lay with her. Eventually being evicted from her home, she took her ten year old brother with her to live in an abandoned building in the ghettos. Survival had been a constant battle. One that she had lost. Unable to procure food, starvation began to claim them both. Xin had succumbed first. With nothing else to eat, her instincts took over. Her brother's body was food. By the time she was aware enough to realize what it was she was doing, it had been too late. She was a monster. A cannibal. She had failed her brother once more.

A strange voice "Why do you weep, child? There is no shame in sating your hunger."

Looking up, Lian saw them. Two beings that could only be described as giant spiders, though strangely their abdomens appeared to be giant lotus blossoms.

Clearly her hunger had finally driver her to madness, making her see things that weren't there. She laughed.

"Do you think us an illusion, child? No, we are very real, and we were sent to give you an offer." Lian simply stared silently. She was still certain she was crazy. "Our masters know your pain, child. The Yozis made this world, and yet they are imprisoned, betrayed by the very gods they created to serve them. Without its True Masters, the world is broken."

Yes... the world was broken, Liam thought. What kind of world would let her innocent brother starve to death? Those in power cared nothing for the hungry. She had seen the fat eunuchs on television, many times, holding grand feasts while so many of their own people wondered where their next meal would come from.

"All you need to do is agree to help them, and we will give you great power. Power to punish those who have wronged you. Power to bring rightness to the world."

Lian thought that quite appealing. Sure, she was crazy and this was all just in her head, but she made her decision regardless. "Alright, let's do it then."

"An excellent choice." Then, without warning the spider who had been talking leapt at her, and all was darkness.

{●}

Lian was surrounded by nothingness. No, there was wind. Wind, silence, and a pervading sense of insanity. She had thought herself crazy before, but this feeling of madness was something else. She knew that she was absolutely sane in comparison to this. And yet the wind fled, but the silence did not flee. No, the silence had brought solace and a mad serenity with it. Those left... no, they were consumed.

She had only blinked for the barest fraction of a second, now finding herself standing in a swamp unlike any she'd ever seen or heard of. But that was nothing compared to the sight before her. A giant flower was before her, strange and beautiful. Without warning, it moved, and faced her. Mouths appeared everywhere upon it, and she felt so terribly small, knowing it could devour her with but the barest effort.

"HELLO, LITTLE LOTUS BLOSSOM. DO YOU KNOW WHAT I AM?"

She was frightened. Would it eat her if she answered wrongly? Would it devour everything that she was regardless? "I... you are a Yozi. One of this world's makers."

"CORRECT! I AM METAGAOS, THE ALL HUNGER BLOSSOM! YOU HAVE KNOWN HUNGER, AND FOR THAT YOU MIGHT COME TO THE BAREST UNDERSTANDING OF WHAT I AM. I AM HUNGER INCARNATE, AND I UNDERSTAND YOUR EVERY CRAVING, LONGING, AND YEARNING!"

She knew it was true. She could feel this great being's hunger. It was endless. It understood what she and her brother had suffered, for it's hunger made theirs pale in comparison.

"I HUNGER FOR FREEDOM! YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN BY ME TO BRING THIS ABOUT! YOU ARE MINE! SATISFY ME, AND YOU SHALL BE GREATLY REWARDED! NOW GO, LITTLE LOTUS BLOSSOM, AND DO MY WORK!"

She bowed low, for there was only one answer to give. "Yes, my master."

{●}

Feng was enjoying a night out with the boys at the local nightclub. The boss had promoted him for dealing with a string of problems that came up, and he was in a damn good mood. He was nice and buzzed, his boys were happy that they were going up in the world, and only one thing could make the night better. He needed to find himself a good woman to have his way with.

Scanning the room he was stunned for a brief moment when the most intoxicating scent filled his nostrils and a feminine pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders. Turning his head he saw her. The most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. He knew he wanted her.

"Hi there, handsome." She greeted him in a sultry voice. She then licked her lips. "Don't you look tasty?"

This night was going to be perfect.

{●}

Nobody ever found Feng. The last anyone had ever seen of him was him going into a hotel room with an incredibly beautiful woman, likely a prostitute given his habits. The only evidence that either of them were ever there were the bloody sheets. Nobody had heard anything that happened though. Not Feng's screams of agony, nor Lian's screams of ecstasy.

The Infernal Exalts of Code Geass: Green Sun Prince Andreas Granados

Madrid. 2:00 AM.

A lone man stays in his office, reading report after report.

Where? Where did the bastard go?

That was the question that Diego de Villar, chief of the military police has been asking to himself all the week. Where had Andreas Granados go? He had disappeared without a trace from his Villa, where he was under arrest, despite the heavy vigilance. He must have bribed someone, he thought. It annoyed him - he had personally chosen all the guards based on their loyalty - but it was the only explanation. Everybody has a price and Granados always was an expert exploiting human greed.

He had spent years working in the case. Since Al-Aiun. Working to prove that the disaster was caused by Granados's mismanagement, and his embezzlement of the war funds. It wasn't easy, of course. He had too many friends, too much influence in the republic's government. Enough to be considered a presidential candidate. He had needed to find the original, not cooked books, to convince the few officers brave enough to declare against him. And when finally it all worked, it has been to satisfying, to see his downfall.

But now it seemed like he had disappeared from the face of the Earth. Not a single camera had spotted him. No witnesses. Nothing. In the worst case, it was possible that he had managed to escape the country, and that he was now selling EU military secrets to Britannia.

He started the next report. The possessions found in Granados' house. Seventeen sports cars. Twenty five million Euros in cash. Three-hundred and fifteen pieces of jewelry (the man had three mistresses). A private zoo. Etc. Etc. The strangest piece of all, a human sized golden Ovoid. Foolproof evidence of his rampant corruption and lack of morals. But not a single clue of where he could be now.

"Are you looking for me, old friend?"

Santiago looked up, startled, and, sure enough, the general was right there in the door. Except he was thirty years younger, and there was something wrong about him.

"What the hell?" He started, just before someone - a shadowy figure who just appeared behind him somehow - grappled him, closing his mouth.

"I bet you really want to know what I was up to, right? Well, a new friend taught me some of his tricks. Let me show you one."

And then, he was covered in shadows and began to mutate, until the terrified Diego was looking at a perfect clone of himself.

"Neat, huh? I think I will enjoy your life."

And then everything was blackness.

The Infernal Exalts of Code Geass: Green Sun Prince Reinart Ellis

My name is Reinart Ellis and I'm a dispute negotiator.

When two groups need to resolve a problem, they call in a neutral party, and there is no party better at neutrality than the International Diplomatic Corps of the Federated States of Australia.

As the only major nation with strong diplomatic ties to all three of the great powers and not within the direct sphere of influence of any of them, we're the preferred choice for any high-level negotiations that occur on an international level. Sometimes these requests come to us because of our reputation for neutrality. Sometimes they ask for us because the IDC has the pull to be able and willing to provide neutral peacekeeping forces for smaller conflicts to help maintain a ceasefire. Most commonly though, they like to call us in for economic disputes because they know both sides owe the Australian banks money. We're not the biggest, not the best, not the toughest, but people know that they can count on us.

{●}

"Reinart, this is Ethan. He's a legal expert assigned to help you with the Indonesian trade negotiation."

There are few things in life more exciting than finally getting a chance to prove yourself. I'd handled a lot of negotiations before, many of which were bigger than the new task I'd been assigned, but for once I was going to be spearheading a job. I was somewhat tempted to feel bad as it seemed I'd only gotten the role because one of the requestees was apparently familiar with a former client of mine who had recommended me; but honestly, in a profession like mine, people thinking highly of you can come about from schmoozing or good work with no technical difference between the two.

I looked at the man next to my boss. His appearance was youthful, but his eyes held a look I normally associated with the upper tiers of my profession and cardsharks. A cocky smile lay across his face.

The negotiation in question was the resolution of a mineral rights dispute between Britannia and one of the French-speaking territories near Jakarta. Apparently they had previously tried negotiating over the rights, but some miscommunication had occured somewhere along the line. Now the Indonesians were accusing the Britannians of trying to forge ahead without their say-so, and the Britannians were accusing them of con-artistry. Both sides had agreed to the standard split-bill for our services, but I was able to discover that it was the Indonesians who had been the ones to push for this initially. It didn't neccessarily mean they were in the right, but experience told me that it's always best to investigate those who are the most upset first. So, with that in mind we set off for Indonesia.

Ethan smiled widely as I muttered over the pack of aeroplane peanuts that refused to open.
"Did you seriously just say 'Gosh-darn Nut-Peas?' "
"The proper name just sounds too euphemistic..."

The flight passed by surprisingly quickly, and I soon found myself in Indonesia, ready to meet with the local representatives. The bureaucrats here had tried to make life difficult by shunting me off to some stiff-faced lawyer, but I knew that I'd have to meet with those on top in order to get a clear understanding of the circumstance rather than just the party line they were using for the negotiations. In the end, it wasn't that hard to remind them that I was their biggest guardian against the Britannians, and without me they'd be up shale creek without a paddle. It wasn't long before a message arrived with an invitation to a large estate where the head honcho lived, a man by the name of Wayan.

Ethan's grin turned smug as he considered the invitation. "Reinart, you're a very useful man to know."

...That's about where things got confusing.

The security on the grounds was fairly impressive, though they let us through without much concern. I understood why when we were welcomed into the meeting room by a broad-shouldered bodyguard covered in tattoos. I was startled to realise that I recognised the tattoos-they were of the exact same kind worn by the previous client who had put my name forward for this mission. That was one mystery solved, though it only raised yet more questions. Ethan and I followed him into the room where a portly gentleman and another, untattooed, bodyguard were waiting.

"You're Reinart Ellis, correct? Allow me to introduce you to my employer, Mr Wayan, and my coworker, Matthias. Might I inquire who your-Aaflschk!"
I turned back to the bodyguard and watched in mounting horror and confusion as Ethan removed his blood-stained fist from the far side of the tattooed man's head. My jaw hung as I watched the corpse slump to the floor.

"Lunars are always so much easier to deal with when they don't see you coming."

My instinct was to call for help, but I couldn't bring myself to move at all. Matthias was much faster to act, but it made little difference as a casual backhand from Ethan sent him flying into the far wall. Wayan's face tightened as Ethan primly pulled a small pistol out of his coat, a silk hankerchief keeping the blood on his hand off of it..

"You treacherous bastard! Are you working for the Britannians? Don't think that killing me will crush our resistance. My people will never bow to foreign tyranny!"

Ethan smiled that same arrogant smile he had been wearing the whole week. "It doesn't need to crush their wills. Without your negotiating skills, or a willingness to rely on foreign negotiators, your people won't be able to prevent the Britannians from accessing the Jade deposits. I'm actually quite pleased at how neatly this has all worked out."

Then Ethan shot the poor man.

Sparked by a sense of necessity, I spoke up. "Is that what you're going to do to me? Off me like an unwitting sap in a spy movie?" Now hopefully his attention would stay focused on me...

Ethan scoffed, casually discarding the pistol on the ground. "Don't be stupid. I wouldn't have pulled the pistol if I were going to kill you. Your fate is to die about 10 minutes from now, at the hands of the manor guards who blame you for Mr Wayan's death."

...Oh sheep, he's thinking about guardsdon'tturnarounddon'tturnaround-

Ethan whipped around to face Matthias' incoming charge and with a motion so smooth I barely saw it, he poked Matthias in the forehead.

-REALITY LURCHED-

And suddenly there was a duck in front of Ethan.

...Yeah, I was in trouble alright. "If you're not planning to silence me, what makes you think I won't just tell everyone about how you did this?"

If possible, his smile got even wider. "Oh, that's not a worry. Soon, you won't even remember me." And with those final words, he picked up the body of the tattooed man, swung it over his shoulder and walked out the door with that SAME GUPPY-DARNED SMUG GRIN.

I looked around desperately at my surroundings. This was bad. The gun was right in front of me and it looked like there might be some violence ahead of-

"Quack."

My gaze returned to the Duck. Hmm. What I really needed here was proof of the supernatural weirdness that occured here, and what better than a Duck that was once a man? Besides, the fact the gun didn't have my fingerprints on it was probably helpful to my case.

My mind made up, I grabbed the Duck and ran for my life.

{●}

Elsewhere, a Pattern Spider chirped in annoyance as the thread of an individual twitched and changed beneath it. Probably a Sidereal playing around again. It wouldn't be a problem, except the thread had tangled with another that was due to end soon. Determinedly, the Spider set about putting it back on course.

{●}

I huffed as I crouched behind the side of the shed. I'd managed to make it out of the building, but the security team was out in force now. The duck that had once been a bodyguard was held close to my chest, though it quivered as voices came nearer.

"I'm sure I heard something over here. Hurry!"

Despite, or perhaps because of the adrenaline running through me, I managed to keep my cool in that moment. I plonked the Duck down on the ground in front of me and prodded it to walk around the side of the shed. Quacking loudly, it did so.

"It was just a duck, Margritte. The bastard's probably still inside the manor."

I decided then that I liked this Duck. Waiting for them to move on, I grabbed it back up and resumed my desperate escape.

{●}

The Pattern Spider chirruped happily as it finished sorting the various threads affected by the altered Fate, only to realise the tangled thread due to end had missed it's scheduled cut-off point. The spider huffed in irritation. Still, it knew that Fate could not be denied, only briefly delayed. Death would come soon enough.

{●}

My memory of what happened at the manor is still a bit odd. I feel like I have an idea, but all these other memories keep flowing into my head, and it's a struggle to keep sorting out the truth from the dross. What I am sure of is that something went wrong at that manor and it was because someone tried to screw me over. I had a feeling it was someone I'd been working with, but according to my boss, not only had I not been working with anyone, but I hadn't been working at all. One day I just hadn't come in to work and nobody could recall knowing anything about my trip. I was now suspended from work pending an investigation into whether I'd been misusing the company credit card to pay for air plane tickets. I'd probably have been fired outright if someone hadn't noticed that there were two tickets charged to it, and a few other anomalies.

So now, here I was in my apartment in Brisbane, trying to piece together the missing days of my life. I knew things had gone bad. I knew the Indonesians were upset with me for some reason. I knew I'd recently received a message from a heavily tattooed man I'd once had as a client, for a reason I couldn't remember. Perhaps I could look into him a bit later. I knew I'd managed to pick up a pet Duck somewhere along the way, currently sitting next to a large bowl of water near my bed. I knew there was an individual out there who had been involved somehow, an individual with a bog-dratted SMUG GRIN.

Oh.

OH.

I'd been played! I'd been played like a flappin' Stradivarius! I'd been outwitted so badly that even a miraculous escape was still more his victory than mine!

"Ethan, you bastard! You don't get to do this to me! You don't get to just play around with people like this!"

"...Perhaps, I might be of assistance?"

I looked over to my left. Somehow an exceptionally large bug with an abdomen shaped like a bottle had made it's way into my house and was now offering to help me with my problems.

...At this point, I wasn't even going to let this bother me.

"...Go on."

{●}

Newspaper Clipping

Recent fears of a terrorist threat have risen in Brisbane today, as an apartment was blown apart by a sizeable explosive device. The culprit is unknown, however police suspect the involvement of a small Indonesian trade consortium. The owner of the apartment, one Reinart Ellis has not been located, believed to have been vapourised fully by the blast, however the building did contain one survivor- a small duck, who appeared to have taken cover behind a very large green sculpture made from brass.

The Infernal Exalts of Code Geass: Green Sun Prince Nadir Yilmaz

There once was a foolish slave that thought it ruled over its rightful masters. This slave was not the warrior who was supposed to sear and scorch the other who were too small minded to be in proper awe of the genius that Creation was. Nor was it the shapeshifting trickster who set the Raksha up against one another, nor the quintet of seers who were supposed to maintain and manage the very system that their creators had left for them in their infinite generosity and magnanimity. This slave came to be long after the traitorous Incarnae and their ilk had instigated and concluded their rebellion against the true rulers of the universe, so ignoble and forgettable that the only reason he had a steady stream of quintessence and ambrosia flowing into his pockets was because he spent nearly all of it bribing his marginally betters for said paltry rewards.

So like the pathetic vermin that the so-called deity was, he emulated his predecessors and sought to subvert the loyal subjects of the Yozi for his own twisted, degenerate ends. Far away from his stolen mansion in Yu-Shan, the cretin wielded his magics and summoned one of the Yozi's heralds and agents. The worm, clad in orichalcum and silk and jade, desired an army with which he would smite his rivals from the shadows and an unimaginably large nest of spies which he could then use to sink his deformed and spindly claws even further into their pockets. The god desired the Teodozjia.

The plan was supposedly ingenious in its simplicity. The hive mind of the jade lions, their most feared and envied attribute, would be the vector through which he would send a subliminal attack, one that would make the demons of the first circle mistake him for their creator, their lord and master, something that he was most assuredly capable of as he was a minor god of recreational narcotics. A masterful plan, bound to succeed even beyond the god's paltry imagination if it had not been for one crucial element.

Teodozjia possess greater willpower within a single fang in their jaw than every single follower of the heretic combined.

Make no mistake, the Teodozjia didn't leave the site of the minor god's savage murder unscathed. Even as the worm was banished from existence and memory for a year and a day, the original attack had already rooted itself firmly in the demon's mind and soul, its feeble and hoarse whispers futily trying to change its allegiances to thrice-damned Sol Invictus.

For the entirety of the five day trek through Cecelyne did the poison of the soul test his loyalty and piety. For five days it nibbled at the demon's mind, yet could not even make a single other jade lion aware of its existence, so powerful and diligent was the afflicted demon.

The Demon City of Malfeas was a welcome sight to the first circle demon, who immediately sought out his progenitor, mighty Zsofika, may her hunts be blessed and bountiful.

Prostrating himself before her he begged her to destroy him, body and soul, for the spiritual blemish that the worm god had inflicted him with made him unworthy to act or speak in the Yozi's stead.

The Messenger Soul of Jacint disagreed and declared that he had gotten stronger from the ordeal, his vanquishing of the original spiritually poisonous charm of the god being proof enough of that. She proclaimed him fiercer, greater and filled with more piety to the Yozi than any other of his brethren and in honor of that bestowed him with a name.

Up until that point such a thing had been considered superfluous and meaningless for the jade lions, who were one as many, yet with their maker, the one who had meticulously crafted them from nothing saying so, there were none who even considered disputing the Kite Flute's decision.

It had been over a hundred fifty Calibrations since the Teodozjia graced with the name of Gyula came to be, a time in which he went above and beyond the call of duty to live up to Zsofika's proclamation of supremacy amongst the Teodozjias.

And now Gyula was dying.

He had been bestowed with a most noble and critical task by the Prince upon the Tower, mighty Jacint himself. Bearing the supermote that would reshape the Yozi's chosen in their own image, Gyula had sought out his champion of the Reclamation. Yet every potential Green Sun Prince that he had found had been found wanting, by dying before he could make the offer, by clearly being uncontrollable wretches that wouldn't further his masters plans one bit, by instead exalting as one of the lowly Terrestrial exalted, for Ligier's sake, one even had the temerity to taint his Primordial-designed soul with the Unconquered Sun's touch.

It went without saying that Gyula couldn't let this affront stand and had wasted no time confronting the newborn Zenith, his claws tearing into the Solar's flesh. The Golden Bull's ravaged and mauled body had managed to get away from him before Gyula would have managed to deal the finishing blow, but his Unquestionable ordained mission took priority, even over such an important matter.

Yet none of that mattered anymore. He had been met with failure far too often for too long. The exaltation he carried was not meant for demons, for it could only find purchase within the Hun soul of a worthy human. His search would end in this desert-bordering nascent shadowland, burned from the inside out from the awesome forces that the Unquestionable had implanted within him.

His glorious mane was in disarray, green light gently streaming out of the numerous bald patches that had once been covered by white, indestructible jade strings. His body started cracking some minutes ago, revealing that same glorious light that rightfully scared away the minor pests that were the local lesser gods.

Staggering, yet still imposing and graceful, Gyula felt his front left paw shatter. At the same time his swishing tail crumbled to dust and both of his hind legs fractured to the core, leaving him with no other choice than to unceremoniously crash against the scarred and shattered pavement, Ligier's glorious light drenching the surroundings, the human corpses and war torn buildings alike, with its majesty. Yet there was one on whom the light had a slightly different effect.

Whereas everything else was wasting away from exposure to the green light, one human, who the Teodozjia had mistaken for a corpse, seemed to get somewhat better, his eyes fluttering even as his intestinal tract was draped all over his legs, his limbs shattered beyond hope (as far as mundane medicinal practice was concerned at least).

Then the human opened his eyes fully and beheld Gyula in all his severely lessened glory.

"Not the weirdest thing I've seen today. Did the screaming ghosts do that to you as well?"

Hmm. The near dead human said those blasphemously denigrating words in Arabic, one of the many languages that the Teodozjia collective had mastered during the millennia. Looking closely, the man wasn't afraid or even cautious of the demon, not out of knowledge, but rather resigned acceptance, not even trying to deny what was right in front of him when he was so close to hearing and answering Lethe's call.

"Like such pests could ever manage such. No, it is my own lack of devotion and resourcefulness that have reduced me to this state. Now I will not be able to fulfil my role and must my masters wait even longer for one of their champions to come forth." It might have seemed somewhat odd that Gyula would be so open about his sacred task, but a mere mortal so close to perishing could do little harm in what little time he would have left. Besides, something about him intrigued the demon, perhaps...

"Champi... who are your masters? Where do they come from?" That gleam in his eyes that didn't belong to a near dead man, it spoke of despair and feverish want.

"Your audacity is something else human, very well. I serve the Unquestionables, the Demon Princes of Malfeas, which you might know as Hell, and through them the true shapers and kings and queens of the world, the Yozi." A brief glint of shock passed through the human's eyes, but was swiftly replaced with resolve.

"Do they possess any power over the dead, like the ghost and wraiths here?" The man didn't even blink.

"None whatsoever, the underworld is an entirely different realm than Malfeas, nor do the demons have any power over the deceased outside of our magics and sorcery." For several moments that seemed to stretch out far too long the human remained silent. Then he clumsily lurched forward, using his chin and one only somewhat busted shoulder to drag himself towards Gyula.

"Make me your champion! Grant me this power, demon!"

Such audacity, Cecelyne would have struck the knave down before he could have uttered even the second syllable of that ridiculous demand. And yet...

Was this not the ferocity worthy of a Green Sun Prince? Does he not know the sting of defeat and humiliation? And did not the Yozi, in their infinite wisdom forge a temporary alliance with the Neverborn in order to smash the Jade Prison and kickstart the Reclamation?

Maybe a little bit of blasphemy wouldn't be too bad of a sin for this mortal.

Gyula saw how the man had not stopped his crawling since making his desperate plea. He watched, even as the man's intestines had gotten stuck on a sharp piece of rubble and been split open, he hadn't stopped his advance. Even as the feces dribbled out of them, the man still crawled most pitifully. There was a metaphor there that the demon was sure went over his head, but he didn't care.

Even so, he had already made his choice.

"Human, what is your name?"

"Nadir Yilmaz."

"Nadir Yilmaz, I am Gyula, one of the Teodozjia, the lions sent into the world. Be reborn into the image of the Yozi so you may break their chains and dethrone the gods who stole their throne and crown!"

A lion's roar filled the clearing and by the time quiet had returned, the two were gone, only a giant crystalline spiked dome remaining.

{●}

(Some time before the meeting between Nadir and Gyula)

Nadir didn't know who he hated more: Cornelia li Brittania, the commanding officer of the Britannian invasion force, who had been very receptive to the idea of scorched earth tactics and employed them rather generously during her conquest of the territory of the Middle Eastern Federation or the supposed leaders of said Federation, who must have considered it a swell idea to construct their large and magnificent forts from which they would repel any and all invasions right next to their major cities and ports, you know, those things filled with people, who have this tendency to get torn apart when the Knightmares and bombs came.

No, wait, Cornelia, Nadir definitely hated Cornelia more.

If the twenty five year old caregiver had been told he would be running for his life from the maddened, critically injured people of what used to be the city of Aqaba, he would probably have decked them in the face and stolen their wallets for good measure.

Yet that was the exact situation that Nadir Yilmaz found himself inside the ruins of what must have once been a rather stylish apartment block, hiding from what seemed to be dozens, if not hundreds, of heavily bleeding and screaming citizens of a once beautiful and thriving port city.

He and so many others were meant to go to the refugee camps that had been set up near Kerak and provide aid to those who had barely stayed ahead from the Brittanian barbarity and slaughter, many leaving their homes with only the clothes on their backs.

Yet the Brittanian war machine pushed ahead without slowing down in the slightest and Cornelia's armies had waltzed over the port city as swiftly and as easily as it had the seventeen preceding ones.

And that was how one Nadir Yilmaz had ended up in this situation, the Brittanian army not even trying to maintain order here, instead pushing forward while letting the carcass of the city devour itself.

Over there was a man, blinded by all the soot sticking to his face, yelling with a hoarse voice for his wife and children, a bit further an elderly woman running in circles, searching for something in the burning ruins, not even noticing the flames.

Where was he even supposed to begin? Nadir held no illusions that there was even a single place in the city that hadn't succumbed to complete madness. There was no way for him to even hope to restore any kind of order on his own. He had to get out, coordinate with the outside authorities and stop this madness from taking even more lives than had already been lost that day.

He had lost the tiny touristic map of the city, but he remembered the direction of the nearest military encampment and should be able find a car and drive out of the city within the hour. Thinking so Nadir left his hiding spot.

As much as he tried to push his thoughts away from the subject Nadir couldn't help but look at the various victims that the Brittanian army had left behind in its wake.

Like that teen digging his fingers deeper and deeper into his scalp, the terror and horror too much for him. It was actually a minor miracle that he was able to move at all with so many pieces of rubble and other junk having dug their way in his body, especially that piece of a signpost that was... stuck... right where... the heart... would be...

He backed away faster than he had ever moved before. He rounded the corner and took off, now not paying any attention whatsoever anymore.

He must have seen it wrong. Maybe the handle was broken before entering the boy's body and it just looked like he was staked through the heart. Why, it could have actually pierced any number of non-lethal spots, like the lungs, or the liver or his spleen. No, no, calm down, there must be a reasonable explanation for this. He must be hallucinating, the stress must have done quite a bit of damage to his psyche, he's paranoid, his mind conjuring up the worst possible scenarios because of the stress.

Just like that man, shocked into disbelief from the death of his twin brother... who was dressed identically to him... and was wounded in the exact same spots as well as in the exact same manner...

No, Nononononono dear god in heaven no, stress, fear, the mind tricking itself due to an excess of secretion of certain hormones, something, anything rational please.

It was already too late by then.

He barely had time to register the maw full of fangs ensnare his right knee before ruthlessly crushing bone and meniscus alike.

A terrifying and translucent hound had snuck up on him, gnawing on his leg like it was his favorite treat in the world. Almost by instinct Nadir punched the canine on its snout and in return felt the dog's claws tear into his arm, yet the beast let go, yanking and whining as it sped away from him.

Somehow Nadir had managed to stay upright even through the pain signals that his mangled leg and arm were sending straight up to his brain. Like a man possessed Nadir limped away, yet his mind was going at speeds that would have broken the sound barrier if they had been of a physical kind. He was alert for any kind of threat, be it another mad human

or one of them, a... a... he couldn't even call them what they were in his own mind, a thrice-damned ghost. He saw them everywhere, eyeing him like a slab of meat right when dinnertime was announced. No, no they aren't there, his mind was playing tricks on him, his fears making a car seem like a gang of hungry ghosts, that piece of brick wall another hellhound.

He was right. His fears had clouded his mind to the point that everything looked like another monster out to eat him. It was true that his imagination was playing tricks on him, but that didn't mean that there was nothing out there.

For a moment Nadir leaned against a surprisingly intact wall, thinking that catching his breath would be better than stumbling around like a headless chicken.

Three quick breaths was all the time he was granted when the blow came.

It came out of nowhere, a slim stone pillar crashing mercilessly against the inner thigh of his one good leg, Nadir could feel the hip bone and the upper part of the femur be pulverized by the blow. Almost by accident Nadir managed to turn around before his leg gave out, coming face to face with a well-built, but also badly injured, man, despair and insanity dripping of his face by the gallons. And he held a large piece of glass in his bleeding hand, the broken pillar lying forgotten on the asphalt.

Like a snake he struck. The glass tore through his abdominal muscles like they weren't even there, his guts spilling out along with some blood and what Nadir hoped wasn't gastric juices.

The man struck again, but Nadir, by instinct or despair, caught the glass before it could harm him any further. The madman pulled and tore into Nadir's arm, yet he didn't let go, even when Nadir's arm was ruthlessly popped out of his shoulder.

The man had underestimated his own power and Nadir's death-like grip. His wild trashing had brought the shard of glass dangerously close to him and before he realized it, the man had slit his own throat from the trashing. Rolling of Nadir's body, he died his first death and would hopefully answer Lethe's call, yet none of that mattered to Nadir.

He had already lost consciousness.

"You stand at the precipice between life and death." A gravelly voice echoed throughout the entirety of Nadir's being, even as his body barely seemed to exist within the endless void. "But this need not be the end for you. Cast away your mortal name, pledge your existence and devotion to the Neverborn and swear to aid us in casting the remains of Creation into Oblivion, and I will save you and grant you power like none you could have dreamed of."

Save? Save is good, save is warm and comfortable, but Oblivion? Oblivion is cold, Oblivion is death. No death, death is the eternal enemy, the last foe to be slain. Death holds no power over me. It will not rule my life.

No.

Even though he hadn't voiced any of that, his decision, his resolve was like a cannon shot that shook the void to its very fundaments. The voice raged.

"You narrowminded fool! Once your body perishes I will not allow you to pass onto Lethe! You will live your unlife in the Netherworld where I will find you and torture you until the wish of the Neverborn comes true at last. Know that I am the greatest of the Deathlords, who rules over an army hundreds of thousands of war ghosts, nemissaries and nephwracks strong! I am the harbinger of your eternal doom, The First and For... no, that infernal light..." And with that the snarling voice disappeared with the emergence of the emerald light and Nadir, who thought that he had already died, opened his eyes.

Mere meters in front of him was a wheezing statue of a pearl-like lion, the very familiar green light pouring out of his many wounds. Nadir didn't know what was going on, but he had a rough idea and frankly, he could go for some levity when he was at Death's doorstep already.

"Not the weirdest thing I've seen today. Did the screaming ghosts do that to you as well?" It seemed that his idea of levity was due for some revisions, it seemed.

"Like such pests could ever manage such. No, it is my own lack of devotion and resourcefulness that have reduced me to this state. Now I will not be able to fulfil my role and must my masters wait even longer for one of their champions to come forth." What did the glowing lion statue say there?

"Champi... who are your masters? Where do they come from?" Could it be?

"Your audacity is something else human, very well. I serve the Unquestionables, the Demon Princes of Malfeas, which you might know as Hell, and through them the true shapers and kings and queens of the world, the Yozi." Hell was where the dead went, right? Yet the way the lion spoke of them...

"Do they possess any power over the dead, like the ghost and wraiths here?" This just might be his one ticket of avoiding his eternity of torture.

"None whatsoever, the underworld is an entirely different realm than Malfeas, nor do the demons have any power over the deceased outside of our magics and sorcery." Suspicious, there was so much that he could and probably should question, but he was out of time. There was ever really only one decision that could be made.

"Make me your champion! Grant me this power, demon!" His body no longer hurt, which frightened Nadir more than he could ever admit, so he lurched forward and crawled his way, by chin and shoulder if he had to, towards the lion. He felt his trailing intestines get caught onto something and give way. Nadir didn't care. The only thing on his mind was that he had to stay away from the Deathlord. He had to stay alive.

He didn't want to die.

"Human, what is your name?" Thank G... no, rather, thank the Yozi.

"Nadir Yilmaz."

"Nadir Yilmaz, I am Gyula, one of the Teodozjia, the lions sent into the world. Be reborn into the image of the Yozi so you may break their chains and dethrone the gods who stole their throne and crown!" And with that, just as night truly fell on the ghost town of Aqaba, Gyula roared and Nadir lost consciousness once more.

{●}

Nadir was on a beach, the waves tickling his bare feet. All around him were the still bodies of alien beings, blue skin and weirdly shaped heads. The wind howled in silence above him.

Nadir's eyes kept coming back to the semi-humanoid creatures. There was something about their faces, even with their eyes closed he could clearly divide them into two groups: those who were consumed with agonizing guilt and sadness and those who were filled with a kind of supernatural joy.

The sea suddenly pulled back for what seemed like kilometers and before the man could even consider screaming his lungs out a massive tidal wave swept everything away, drowning the small island in its entirety, except for the tiny patch that he was standing on, the water towering over him like prison walls.

"I gave so much of my love to them." For a moment Nadir thought he saw a face emerge from the water, yet it was gone before he realized it.

"They loved me too, those silly, adorable children of mine." This time the voice came from somewhere else, from behind/beneath/above/aside?

"Isn't it normal for parents and children to love one another?"

"I certainly do and I can only hope they love me as well." Right, just give a diplomatic answer to the scary force of nature. Sound plan.

"Then what happens when they spite you, betray you, disappoint you?" The face, reminding Nadir of a middle-aged woman much like a whale might be mistaken for a trout, erupted in front of him, her gaze seemingly piercing through any lies or half-truths the man would employ.

The only sound that could be heard was the gentle ebb and flow of the sea as Nadir thought about it. "Cutting them out of my life would probably be the best solution. A life without them would be preferable over trying to repair my broken trust in them." Was that the answer she wanted to hear? Nadir didn't know, so he would just have to rely on his gut feeling for this one.

"What has been shattered can never be truly mended," for a moment the sea seemed to calm down, "but that was not their true failing. Their lives void with MY PRESENCE IS NOT PUNISHMENT ENOUGH!" It was only then Nadir realized, the face meant nothing. He wasn't dealing with some kind of spirit traveling through the water, this being, this ur-mother was the sea itself and now she was screaming with her entire being.

Nadir now knew what it would be like if the planet Neptune was venting its stress and you were the only one around.

"MY SIBLINGS SLAIN, MY CHILDREN INEPT, MY SERVANTS AND TERRITORY BEFOULED AND LESSENED. MY ABSENT SCORN CANNOT BE PUNISHMENT ENOUGH. THEY MUST REPENT, ONLY AFTER A SLOW DEATH BY POISON AND ACID AS THEIR VICTORY BECOMES ASHES IN THEIR MOUTHS WILL THEY BE FORGIVEN."

Even as the sea raged and Nadir bore witness to a reenactment of the Biblical flood he was left unharmed.

"Failure is a worse crime than betrayal, for they cannot even blame the outcome on their intent. Do you love your parents still?" And just like that, it was as if there had never been a storm and the sea was once more its deceptively tranquil self.

"Even now I do." And that was the truth.

He had already figured who she was and she was even so kind as to outline what she wanted from him. How generous.

"Do you understand how you must show your love to me and my imprisoned siblings?"

The thing with success wasn't that it could only be achieved through hard work or deriving some hidden, guaranteed method of attaining victory.

"If you accept me as your child, then I will honor you as my mother in the one way that could ever show you my appreciation: I will succeed."

It was never a question of how success might be attained.

"In that case only one question remains: Who am I?"

"You are one of the Yozi."

"I AM KIMBERY, THE SEA THAT MARCHED AGAINST THE FLAME.

MY BELOVED CHILD, GO FORTH AND CLEAN UP THE MESS THAT THOSE REBELLIOUS GODS HAVE MADE OUT OF CREATION."

All you had to do, was define the problem in such a way that success would be the only available outcome.

{●}

His emergence out of the crystalline dome must have been rather impressive was the first thought that went through nadir's mind as he properly appreciated the size of the shards that had made up his cocoon. If they were any indication the alien structure must have been big enough to comfortably house three of him. It boggled his mind that these shards were all that remained of Gyula's body.

'What greater proof can there be of the Yozi's supernal genius than having this unworthy vessel, unable to even contain the mighty forces that their Exaltation represent, end as something so sublime? Praised be the Yozi.'

Praised be the Yozi. Power and glorious displays were all well and good, but having all the squishy parts back where they belonged was even better. And to think all it took for Nadir to appreciate the little things in life was to get his legs crushed, his arms torn to pieces and his entrails to get all tangled in between said demolished legs.

Wonder why more people didn't try that?

According to Gyula nearly an hour had passed since he had begged for the Yozi's power, yet it felt like it had been months. With light footsteps he stepped away from the wreckage, utterly amazed at how powerful his body felt.

He could feel it, all but pulsing right beneath his skin, the power, the speed. No mortal man could outrun him and he just knew that only professional marathon runners stood a chance of outlasting him on foot and in water it would be more useful to compare himself to a cigarette boat than any swimmer. And if this was the purely physical side of it, how much greater must his mind now be? His skill set? And that was without even considering the magics that Gyula had been referring to. The Yozi deliver, that was for sure.

'Have you gotten all of that out of your system now, Peer Nadir? Because if so, may I suggest we leave this holy site which your reconstruction has modified into something truly palatable and either find some shelter or otherwise devise some strategy that would make confronting these Lethe shunning cretins somewhat easier than it would otherwise already be?'

"Yeah, could you repeat that in a way that I don't need to spend a minute on to decipher?"

'Very well. What are you going to do about those ghosts? Avoid or confront, and if it is confrontation you desire, what numbers would you wish to take on at once and do you have a battlefield in mind in which you could tilt things to your advantage?'

"That was a lot better. As for your question, I am naked, without weapons of any kind and ghosts are immaterial unless they choose not to be, unless that part of the myths is wrong as well? Either way, discretion is the better part of valor." Nadir asked, being more curious than sarcastic with that question.

'At night, in here ghosts are as physical as you are and I was. They still have no need for food or air or sleep, outside from the enjoyment they may derive from it, but they can be hurt and even temporarily dispersed by purely mundane efforts. Also, if you wish to leave the area I suggest you do so quickly as your leaving the Chrysalis Grotesque was accompanied by your anima totem bathing the surrounding area in Ligier's sacred light and transformed it to a more,' here he paused for several moments before continuing, 'respectable motif.'

What was going on with him? No, wait, couldit be that the big strong demon thought he was being offending with his overly grand and pompous manner of speech? Nadir had no idea his coadjutor could be so damn cute.

"Gyula, there is no need for you to force yourself into using speech patterns you're unused to. So long as you don't ramble or overuse foreign phrasing you can just go back to talking like you usually do." Even though the naked man couldn't see him, he felt a sense of gratitude and relaxation wash over him and that was enough for the both of them to consider the matter closed.

Like a leaf being guided along gently by a hurricane, Nadir raced soundlessly across the empty streets of Aqaba, not even letting a single blade of grass or miniscule pebble be disturbed by his passage.

Gyula's analysis had not been proven wrong. Nadir's plan was to hide on the bottom of the Dead Sea for a couple of hours and wait for the ghosts to stop looking for him and then sneak away. He had already felt a small amount of his inner verdant power reserves, his 'essence pools' as Gyula called them, drain away, leaving him with the instinctive knowledge that he could drink lava, sleep in a bath of potassium cyanide and breathe in a bucket of hydrochloric acid and have it feel like crisp mountain air for as long as he wanted. But none of that changed anything about the dozens of armored ghosts having already encircled his position and slowly, but surely tightening the noose.

Nadir guessed he should have been surprised and confused at their presence. Their medieval warrior look was in sharp contrast with the rest of the city and its ghostly population and their obvious military training alongside their use of such outdated weapons as swords, axes and shields was a good sign that they were part of a greater, ancient military organization that was, for one reason or another, targeting him.

The most likely culprit was the one who he had rejected, who boasted about his army of ghosts, the First something or the other. Simply remembering his grave-like voice made Nadir feel like his organs were being devoured by the acid called rage, but repressed the feeling. He had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

First he would need to break through. And he already had his target in sight.

Four of the ghosts had blockaded a small alley in between two buildings, so small in fact that two of the ghosts standing side by side was enough to fill up the entirety of all the available space. As such they had to wallow through the gore of the recently made corpses, not that they seemed to mind. How convenient.

The quartet saw Nadir close in on their position and readied their weapons. With their brothers-in-arms hurrying as well, they would need to stop the Infernal's advance for less than twenty seconds before he would be surrounded. No matter how good the Exalt might be, less than an hour after having achieved his powers there was no way he could defeat all of them and escape before their lord's elite squadrons of nephwracks, mortwights and their packs of hungry ghosts would arrive and tear him apart and drag his corpus down in the deepest levels of the Labyrinth.

The war ghosts may have been right, they may have been proven wrong as so many others did when they underestimated the Exalted, regardless of their age and life experience. It all hinged on them being able to stop Nadir for said twenty seconds.

And the worst thing you could be doing when you knew that a bloodthirsty, or in this case ectoplasmthirsty, Exalt was closing in on you, was to be looking in the wrong direction.

Nadir had gotten close enough to the war ghosts that they could see his caste mark burn onto his forehead, they could see his jaw clenching and his eyes narrow in concentration, and the one in the back could most definitely feel the barbed tentacle, that had sprouted out of a shallow puddle of blood behind him, tear his back apart.

The ones in front were smart enough not to turn around and look at what had brutalized their fellow soldier, but couldn't help taking a step forward, putting them at the very edge of the entrance of the alley, leaving their wounded teammate with just one ghost as backup against the runny crimson monstrosity of a tentacle.

Nadir had reached the two remaining war ghosts with a sick grin on his face. Even as they swung their poleaxes, it was child's play for Nadir to dodge. He even had enough time to appreciate the terror-filled cries of the two in the back as the poleaxes of the ones in front harmlessly clanged against one another. The one closest to him turned around, rage, disgust and a whole lot of fear were barely hidden in his eyes. The lightly hissing sound coming from his partner's side made that one hundred percent pure fear.

A second tentacle had sprouted from the second war ghost's blood drenched boot, shredding his unprotected foot and ankle as if it were wet paper and hurled itself at the first. Despite that the second tentacle was only visible from the very edge of his field of vision, the ghost still managed to avoid the red spear of death. And then Nadir grabbed its free end.

As the only non-injured ghost had launched himself away from the tentacle Nadir had taken hold of his poleaxe with one hand and the ichor flux tendril with the other all the while bending his knees and diving like a baseball player reaching for the home base, the tendril coiling itself around the ghost's throat, its barbs flaying it easily.

From the pain the ghost let go of his shield and axe. From simple inertia the barbs tore the ghost's neck to pieces and the act of letting go of the tendril made its newly 'rebarbed' tip slice through the ghost's head, scalping him viciously before he even had time to scream.

The tendril shot back at the ghost it had originated from piercing the ghost's knee and then shot upwards, disappearing under the ghost's hauberk, yet even as Nadir made his way to the remaining two ghosts he knew that it was tearing him apart, vivisecting the undead spirit from groin to clavicula. And when the two evaporated five seconds later the tendril left as well.

Just as he had commanded the other tendril had wrapped itself around the remaining uninjured ghost's arms. Feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins Nadir charged at the immobilized ghost, the poleaxe already in motion to separate the head from the rest of the spectral body.

The quiet whooshing betrayed the flying axe and with the ease of someone who had been wielding the axe for a lifetime Nadir slid the shaft of the poleaxe in between the blade and the handle and gently pushed it upwards and sideways, bleeding away the kinetic force behind it and letting it slide down the handle of his own axe, right into his waiting hand.

The first ghost to have gone down had clearly held strong to his own hatred for the infernal and had thrown the axe in a last desperate attempt to at least hurt him, even if it would have been only on a superficial level.

Placing the smaller axe in his mouth, biting on the handle to keep it in its place Nadir swung the poleaxe twice, showing just how much he appreciated the desperate gambit.

The four hadn't even lasted ten seconds.

Nadir looked back, the thirty or so ghosts behind him not the least bit fazed by his display in brutality and he could already spot a second group waiting for him at the other end of the alley. Ghosts were pretty tough customers when you want have them give up on something it seemed.

'What could one expect from such foul wretches that not only deny the very system the then-Primordials had installed to deal with such drek, but then also have the gall to not even pray to them in repentance? The denizens of the underworld are a lost cause, the lot of them.'

No, no Gyula. Don't hold back, tell us how you really feel.

But it was true that there was no reason for him to entertain the spectral soldiers any longer. Still clenching the smaller axe between his jaw and the poleaxe in his hand Nadir took off, running down the alley at top speeds and then he jumped, planted his feet on the left wall and continued, rising higher and higher until he reached the end.

With the speed he had built up he easily managed to jump all the way to the next building, summoning a new tendril on the ground that slapped or broke the bows that some of the ghost soldiers had been carrying with them, the panic, the sudden injury and death were reason enough for him to let his gaze rest at the panicking group even as he left them biting in his dust.

And if the tendrils had enough time to take down another couple of ghosts by the time he had moved out of range he certainly wouldn't complain.

Nadir quickly left the spectral warriors eating his dust, yet he didn't slow down. For the next several hours Nadir felt like he was stuck in a hurricane of his own making, barely clinging to his own awareness of his surroundings as he ran through the dessert, swum through the Dead Sea and even dove straight to its bottom thrice, double backed, created false trails and erased others. He even had the present of mind to erase different tracks to different degrees, which would further confuse any would be trackers who would already have to follow over two dozen potential trails.

Only once he was sure that he would not be found for at least the next day did he stop, some fifty miles away from Aqaba by his estimations. It was only then that he noticed his surroundings.

"Gyula, I may not have spent all that much time in the desert, but normally speaking there wouldn't be enough light pollution to block out the stars, right?" Indeed, when he looked up the sky was void of any kind of illumination aside from a rather wan-looking moon. The only other thing of note were the numerous streams of glittering dust flowing through the sky like a thousand rivers, all going towards the same general direction. It was the light shining down from those streams that Nadir had mistaken for star-and moonlight.

'You are most correct, Peer Nadir. After all, by leaving the newly-formed Shadowland you have entered the underworld, a pale imitation of the glory of Creation, sustained solely by the mad and feverish dreams of the slain brethren of our masters.'

"Wha...how? Could you repeat yourself Gyula and explain a bit more thoroughly please." The undertone of Nadir's request would have made it clear to any mortal or former human, like the Exalted, that it was not a request, but Gyula, as a demon, didn't get the hint yet obeyed regardless.

'Shadowlands exist simultaneously in Creation and the underworld. Exiting one during the day lands one in Creation and doing so during the night does the same for the underworld. The sun and moon you see in the underworld are artificial and the streams of essence flowing above you are prayers made manifest, meant to keep said system going.'

"Okay, no problem, it should be nearing sunrise anyway. All I have to do is return to the shadowland, being the city of Aqaba and then leave its premises again to return to the world of the living? Doesn't sound too hard. If I run all the way I'll make it in a bit over an hour."

'A most splendid idea, if it weren't for the 'being in the underworld' part.' Gyula could feel Nadir's confusion so without any prompting he continued. 'As I said earlier, this realm, at its core, is no more than a dream of pain, misery and humiliation and like any other dream it is rather malleable. The memories of its inhabitants shape the very lay of the land, leading to the underworld being filled with anachronistic or otherwise impossible structures and phenomena as well as changing routes and landmarks constantly.' The coadjutor could feel his liege's dread mount and decided to wrap it up as fast as he could. 'With how far away you are from any kind of ghostly settlement, these lands would be subject to more and greater changes, making it nigh impossible to say where the nearest shadowland might be, let alone how far you'd have to travel to reach it.'

"So you're saying I'm stuck here, doomed to wander until I die of hunger or thirst, at which point I'll still be stuck here, but as a ghost? That can't be right, there has to be a way out of here."

'If you had been to Malfeas and received your training I'm sure you could have left this disgusting realm with a dab application of a Sorcery spell. But as you are I suppose the most reliable way would be to follow the prayer-streams that lead to Stygia. The closer one gets to the capital of the underworld, the more settlements you will find. Those would be excellent places to gather information on the nearest shadowlands.'

"And maybe get my hands on some clothes. Do ghosts eat anything?" Nadir was getting kind of tired from having to ask so many questions at once, but needs must and all that.

'Most grave goods are edible. And their currency is calcified Essence, so that would not give the Yozi's chosen any troubles restoring your essence pools.' Right, that was it. Nadir knew he wasn't going to keep using Gyula as his personal magic 8 ball, but he has had it with his coadjutor springing those surprises on him. It wouldn't surprise the infernal if the demon was getting some kicks out of his panicky confusion.

"Gyula, explain that last sentence. In thirty words or less." He added threateningly.

'Living beings cannot naturally respire or regain Essence in the underworld, the Essence flows are too stagnant and 'inanimate' for you to properly absorb and 'digest' it into your Essence pools.'

Bravo, and only one word over the limit too.

Nadir closed his eyes and shifted his focus inwards, towards his Essence pools. Indeed, if he compared both his current personal and peripheral pools to when they were full, he was barely at two thirds of his capacity. If Gyula hadn't said what he had said Nadir would have assumed that it would have been because of all the running and other forms of exertion he had done throughout the night, but if what he had said was the truth Nadir would have to be far more careful with his essence expenditure.

While he didn't regret throwing around his essence earlier, he knew he could only afford to pull that trick three more times before being left high and dry.

Nevertheless, he had been beaten up, fought and had run more in the past twenty four hours than in the past year. So using knowledge that he was pretty sure hadn't existed in his head twelve hours prior he buried himself in the sand, so that neither the cold of night nor the scorching rays of the pseudo-sun could harm him, in such a way that he could easily breathe and generally not be disturbed or found.

Eight hours later he would wake up, dig himself out of the hole he had literally made for himself, made sure that he was caked in sand to avoid the worst of the underworld's sun's glare and went on his merry way following the prayer streams. Then, at night he would dig a new hole and the cycle would begin anew.

This continued on for three days before Nadir would finally reach a small ghostly hamlet, that at first glance seemed to be comfortably nestled inside a sprawling meadow filled with burnt out husks of primitive tanks, jeeps and even some knightmares, a lightly smoking mountain, probably a volcano, looming in the background. Yet, even though a powerful sandstorm was raging all over the landscape, the ground itself was completely devoid of sand granules.

In the distance Nadir could see a lonely farm, with two specters tilling the land like the sandstorm didn't exist.

All he had to do was go there, take some clothes, eat whatever edible grave goods were available, kill the inhabitants should it prove necessary and maybe he would even be able to figure out how to regain some essence there before making his way to the hamlet and getting some information, and maybe even a map, on the nearest shadowland so he could finally escape this dreary realm.

It seemed things were finally starting to look up.

{●}

It had no name. When it had been cowardly slain from behind it had thrown its name into Oblivion and dragged its dead corpse into the underworld, so it could inflict the same beautiful horror on the hapless shades in these bleak lands. There were two others like it, along with their master and their sixty dogs. It wanted to break its presumed equals on its claws, but then its master would be angry, its master's master would be angry and the Neverborn, well they wouldn't care at all, dreaming as they all were. But it wouldn't be able to continue the chase and for that its claws remained firmly lowered.

Their prey's tracks become more fresh by the hour, the prey no longer concealed its tracks.

Sixty four of them, sixty dogs, three hunters and the master, would soon descend on their prey.

Soon its claws would reave life and soul again.

{●}

"Okay, so I get that the Yozi Kimbery is handing out orders to further the Reclamation on me by giving me assignments such as taking out influential actors on the world stage. Like Cornelia li Brittania, the Goddess of Victory and the Witch of Brittania, who is an Exalt of her own through her bloodline, somehow. And I get that ruining her reputation as invincible and her status as one of the Empire's favorite daughters could be beneficial in disrupting Heaven's plan with controlling the world through their stooges in the Holy Empire of Brittania. But is it really necessary to destroy every one of her subordinates and every piece of infrastructure that belongs to her army?"

An axe in each hand, Nadir leisurely walked towards the lone farm he had spotted earlier. Over the course of the three days that he had mindlessly traversed the desert Gyula had talked extensively about Malfeas, about the Yozi and how important the mission they had given him was. He talked about Cecelyne, the endless desert who imposed the rule of the strong on all demons, he talked about the Ebon Dragon, Bringer of Night and the primary architect of the sundering of the jade Prison and thus also the reclamation as it is known nowadays. He talked extensively on the patron of nadir's caste, Adorjan, the Silent Wind who was once the River of Torment and the Yozi most feared by those who dwell in Malfeas as well as the one Yozi that Nadir had met already, Kimbery.

Even as he had left the dessert for a scarred and hollowed out mountain range the teodozjia filled his mind with species of first circle demons who were created to fill whatever new niche their Second Circle lords had deemed amusing or necessary.

So it shouldn't come as a surprise that the warlock had both grown more used to talking to his new compatriot, who seemed to truly enjoy answering the questions that Nadir asked him. And the questions he asked had clearly become more complex, another aspect of their budding symbiotic relationship that both the Scourge as well as the teodozjia were clearly quite happy about.

'Because those that serve under her would be able to apply her combat strategies and general tactical acumen even after her demise. So long as her subordinates, of which there are quite a few other Dragonblooded, are able to carry on her spirit she would still function as a martyr figure. Only the complete eradication of the entire division would suffice to end her legend and legacy. The same goes for every last weapon and piece of technology that is used under her command. The lesser gods of those objects glut themselves on the prayers directed at Cornelia, with her own consent no less. It is for that reason that the Sea that Marched against the Flame ordained you to wipe it all out, lest those traitorous Terrestrial gods might continue to grow in power and importance. And it hardly needs to be said that that would come back to 'bite you in the ass'.'

"Which would instead leave us with a legion of 'more powerful than the norm' deities whom we would all have to kill on top of killing or subverting all her troops and destroying all the infrastructure. And I don't even have a way of permanently killing gods and spirits yet." Well, if the job was supposed to be easy the Yozi wouldn't have resorted to bringing back those who made the impossible possible.

The sandstorm that was raging somehow felt even less 'real' than the rest of the underworld, as if the sand hitting Nadir's bare skin was somehow a mirage. Just one more breeze amongst thousands.

His experiences with ghosts had not been pleasant in the slightest, but was that reason enough to forego everything else and just attack those farmers without any provocation?

On the one hand, Gyula has been rather explicit on their worth and Malfeas' stance on the denizens of the underworld and the Exalted that the Neverborn would be churning out was not unknown to him either. Then there was the whole 'release from suffering by death' philosophy that Adorjan embodied. On the other the ghosts themselves had done nothing against him, yet.

He was now barely a hundred meters away from the farm and the two ghosts had noticed him. Well, might as well try the diplomatic route.

'As if they would recognize the honor and act in an appropriate manner. Might as well expect Yu-Shan to not be the corrupt cesspit that it has been since the Usurpation.'

Deciding to ignore his coadjutor for the time being, Nadir had caught the attention of the two ghosts and, with some overly grand gestures, laid his two axes on the ground.

"We don't appreciate you living folks 'round these parts."

When had Nadir crossed the Atlantic Ocean to come face to face with the unliving embodiment of the stereotypically racist and intellectually challenged Brittanian farmer? With a blank face Nadir just quietly turned to face the other farmer.

"Please forgive my grandfather, he is like that to everybody he meets." The other was a somewhat androgynous guy, or maybe a very masculine woman. "Very nice of you to put down your weapons before approaching us." Was it just him or did hir eyes flicker down for a moment? "So, what can we do for you?"

Right, best not to waste too much time here. "As you can see I've been robbed three days ago by a band of ruffians who claimed they were working for the First and Forsaken Lion, left without even the clothes on my back or any means of procuring food for the past three days. I hate having to impose on you and rely on your kindness, but is it possible for you to give me some clothes to wear and food to nourish me? I'd be very grateful."

"Typical living moochers, not even mentioning any compensation." Nadir's skill at ignoring the grumblings of the elderly was still magnificent, which of course meant that his eyebrow was not twitching erratically.

'Perish the thought.'

Thank you, Gyula.

"I am afraid my grandfather is right, sir. We cannot just give food to every stranger that comes knocking on our door. We don't even have enough to cover the important festivities as it is." Nadir couldn't help but glance at the field of wheat that looked ready for the scythe. "We really can't help you. Not like it would be smart to go against the First and Forsaken Lion, even in such an indirect manner." Was that how s/he wanted to play this game?

"It is not like those brigands were truly part of the Lion's forces. For what reason would the Lion require one set of substandard clothing when he never seems to take that armor of his off?"

"No, all we have is the food and clothes offered to us by our descendant's offerings. To give those precious grave goods away would be like spitting in their face and reject our role of guiding them during though times." Nadir was about to open his mouth again when he noticed a glint in the eyes of the younger-looking ghost. Was this what Gyula meant about the rigidity and stubbornness of the deceased? While the hunger wasn't too bad yet, it's not like he could waste all that much more time with what was essentially some petty luxuries.

"I see, I apologize for having wasted your time, then." And with that Nadir turned around and walked back the way he came. He could just feel the smirk of the elder oaf and the disapproving glare of the gender-confused one. Yet they turned around and continued their work like he hadn't even talked to them in the first place.

Sighing he bent his knees and picked up the hatchet in his right hand and the poleaxe in his left.

And then buried the latter in the oaf's head two seconds later, cleaving his spectral body in twain. The hatchet flew out of his hand, decapitating the androgynous one who was sporting as blank a stare as possible.

'Hmm.'

Not even paying attention Nadir made his way to the small farm, even if the clothes didn't fit, they would just have to do. As for food, even if they spoke the truth, he could just eat the grain. He might get a stomachache, but what with how unlikely that would be Nadir would just have to like it.

'Hmhmhmhmm.'

Ugh, fine. You were right and I was wrong.

'Now say it out loud, properly.'

"I'm sorry for ever doubting your great wisdom, oh mighty Gyula. I still need your counsel and my puny mind is like a child's sandcastle compared to one of the layers of Malfeas that yours is. I hereby acknowledge your greater intellect, but unless it knows a way for me to get access to a map to the nearest shadowland without having to converse and negotiate with one of the cretins, that is still what I must do. You happy now?"

'Quite happy, Peer Nadir.'

Ugh, he would find a way of transporting objects from the real world to his mind and the first thing he would do was put a laser light in his mindscape and its light would shine right in front of Gyula and it would draw circles and he would be beyond frustrated that he couldn't catch the pretty light. And then Nadir would be victorious.

Now if only Gyula could stop snickering.

{●}

It was a pity that Gyula was not aware of all the minutiae of spectral decorum and haggling methods, because Nadir could have really used a crash course in it right about now.

Tensions had risen quite a bit since he had entered the small settlement. He had first asked a cartographer for directions to the nearest shadowland, but after she had pretended to ignore his questions twice she instead started screaming something about the greenbloods and the barony of forgotten dunes the third time around. Which was then followed up by an entire streets' worth of ghostly pedestrians running into the nearest building, only to then run back out and go in a different building. Three times.

Asking another lead to a pub-wide brawl that mostly involved jumpkicks and cartwheels and the one after that devolved into a discussion/rant on the horrors of traversing the desert on necrotech steeds built primarily out of possums. Possums of all bloody creatures.

Nadir just knew that if he didn't wrap things up quickly the dumb-as-bricks ghosts would band together and try to run him out of the place. And then he would have to kill them and then he would have to listen to Gyula's mocking laughter for even longer. And he has had enough of that for the rest of the day.

There were spots that he hadn't checked yet, small alleys and hidden corners that seemed to house the deviants of the wandering dead, the ones who didn't partake in the sheer stupidity that seemed to have the minds of the others in its firm grip.

He had tucked his hatchet in his waistband and covered it with his shirt and made sure to hold the poleaxe with the bladed end down, the blade itself pointing away from whomever he was talking to. He hoped that that would be enough to calm the ghosts down and assure them of his 'honorable' intentions, but that hadn't exactly worked out for him so far.

Shaking those negative thoughts away Nadir made his way to the streets, the first shady alley he would come across would be the one he would investigate and he would find a sane ghost.

"It's actually quite nearby, sonny." In the blink of an eye Nadir had turned around to face the owner of the voice and was met with a child, couldn't be older than ten.

"Pardon?" When in doubt, be polite. If proven unworthy of such basic niceties Nadir could always get to insulting or attacking them afterwards.

"You haven't exactly been subtle with your inquires, sonny. Shadowlands have only been popping up again for the past four or five years, so it has been something of a touchy subject for those who suddenly found themselves with a portal back to the world of the living in their backyard.

"But yeah, see that volcano over in the distance?" The boy specter pointed at the smoking mountain that Nadir had noticed at his arrival. "The shadowland is about ten kilometers west of it. You'll recognize it by the fairy circles that are spread all over the surface, mostly made from grass and stones but there are other kinds as well. Do make sure that you don't run past it, it is rather small, with a radius of about two hundred meters."

That...that was exactly the information he was looking for. After all the disappointment and ridiculousness it was just thrown in his lap like that.

"Why would you just reveal that information if it is such a sensitive topic?"

"Mostly to get you out of here and back to Creation, so you won't bring even more trouble to this place than you've already done." The kid ghost then turned around to look at the bustling street.

"Do forgive them. A ghost's sense of time is quite different from that of a living mortal, so it will be a couple of decades before they and the rest of the underworld will calm down and accept the way things are."

"You mean something aside from their crazy behavior? Or is that par for the course?"

"The emotions that they held on to with their dying breath has influenced them heavily, so they might not resemble their former living selves all that much. What you should have done was to..."

And just like that Nadir had lost all interest in the affairs of the small village. Without even sparing a thought as to why the underage looking ghost would be so much more composed than his fellow wandering dead or why he would talk about the shadowlands as if he remembered the period from before the Twin Cataclysms, Nadir turned around and walked away.

The unnamed ghost just smiled, the antics of the living was entertainment enough for him. No reason to personally get involved with the shitstorm that was coming.

'Peer Nadir, there is one other thing you should concern yourself with before making plans to leave this realm.'

It was only then that Nadir noticed the new arrivals. Haggard looking, mad glints in each of their eyes, the new arrivals had surrounded him in the blink of an eye. There were over two dozen of them and more were pouring into the streets with every passing second, yet the inhabitants of the town were the ignoring them and were ignored in return.

'Hungry ghosts, the po soul of the deceased left unhindered by the burdens of a greater intellect. When they gather in these numbers and are placid enough that they don't start attacking anyone and anything in sight it could only mean that there is somebody that can keep them in check nearby. Will you be employing your discretion once more, Peer Nadir?'

If he had a good idea of how far away the shadowland was that might have been an option, but out there it was nothing but plains upon plains, not the ideal place to be if you were trying to run away with an army of ghosts nipping at your heels whilst searching for a relatively tiny spot in said wasteland.

'And in return endanger the existence of all the ghosts who live here?' Gyula's question wasn't so much expressing outrage or disappointment, but almost... probing?

Even as more and more hungry ghosts showed up and closed in on him Nadir's posture was still relaxed, nothing about him gave the impression he was worried.

"It's not like they cease to exist if killed, and besides, what about the ghosts? Why should I care about them when I've had all of one neutral reaction from them in a sea of negative ones? Fuck ghosts."

That, and he had a lot of pent up aggression he just had to get rid of and if mindless hordes were presented to him on a silver platter?

The moment he took a single step the ravenous band looked up as one. By the time he had taken the second their guard had been up and by the third they roared as one and charged.

With barely a thought Nadir grabbed the arm of one of the 'innocent' onlookers and threw him at the closest group, only to see him being torn to shreds by ten hands in the time that would have taken a normal man to blink. And then they were upon him.

It was as if they had lost their previous synchronicity, their grabbing hands bumping the others away and ending up in the the open jaws of the others. Nadir didn't hesitate and buried his axehead in the chest of the closest one of them and dug his fingers in the eye socket of the smallest of the five.

His sudden intrusion broke the tangled hungry ghosts apart, one even crashing into a stall. Not letting go of either Nadir kept going forward, trampling all over one of the surprised hungry ghosts, running up the walls of a nearby building. Ignoring the screeching of his two unwilling 'passengers' Nadir jumped of the edge of the roof, vaulting in the air, swinging his poleaxe and letting the gutted, barely moving corpse of a hungry corpse forward.

In midair he landed on top of said corpse and jumped off again. The soles of his feet were bloody and the other hungry ghost was desperately trying, and failing, to get him to let it go, but that didn't diminish his enjoyment in the slightest was he saw the corpse crash on top of the wares of a weapon merchant, the cart creaking loudly under its increased weight.

Just as the other hungry ghost was about to tear into Nadir's arm with its claws Nadir whipped his arm forward, throwing the hungry ghost forward, its squished eyeball thrown away with a careless gesture.

As he landed on top of the ghost Nadir tore its throat apart with a daft application of the poleaxe and at the same time jumped off again. Its body came crashing down like a miniature comet, destroying the town well as it got buried in the underground spring.

As Nadir landed on a rooftop nearly a hundred meters away from the market street he jumped back down to the street level, easily avoiding the attention of any and all ghosts, hungry or otherwise. But as he started making his way down the streets, planning ways to make the mindless beasts and their master fear him as they should fear all of demonkind he noticed something, internally.

"Gyula, is it just me or have my Essence pools been slightly replenished since a couple of days ago? Didn't you say that that wasn't possible in the underworld?"

'What do you mean?' Then it felt like something was ruffling inside of him and Nadir could hear Gyula's murmuring and, was that whistling? After a couple of moments Gyula answered.

'Well, Peer Nadir, you are correct. Your essence pools have been refilled somewhat and, embarrassingly enough, I only now remember the other method that is at your disposal as far as recovering essence is concerned. The Yozi, in their infinite wisdom, made it so that, be it in Creation or its pale reflection, acting in ways that please and amuse them, gets you rewarded, filling your essence pools or reinforcing the strength of your mind and will. Should you grow a bit further in your abilities your patron and the patron of your caste shall bestow new 'options' as it were. The feared Adorjan will bless you with her dreaded winds that shred your foes apart and benevolent Kimbery aids you in healing your wounds. Essentially, doing 'awesome stuff', as the ignorant mortal masses would call it, will be of invaluable worth to your contributions to the cause of the Reclamation.'

"Wait, so is this something exclusive to the chosen of the Yozi? None of the other exalted hosts can do this?" Because if so that would be a massive, possibly crucial, advantage he would have over the chosen of the Incarnae, Neverborn or the Dragonblooded.

'They have access to the same basic 'system', but cannot make use of the Yozi-specific varieties.'

Yeah, he knew that would be too good to be true. Still, this was excellent news.

If they thought he would be easily found and dispatched of, it would only be proper for Nadir to play with his new toys. Too bad they would break.

Let's see if the Yozi give bonus points for interesting and inventive kills.

{●}

The vagaries of the Yozi would forevermore be a mystery to Nadir.

Needless to say, Nadir hadn't managed to replicate his earlier 'success' with the seven or so hungry ghosts that he had stalked and killed.

Gyula had advised him to just table it until he could bring it up with his fellow warlocks.

And it seemed like he had finally hit the jackpot.

There were three of them. The two, rather brawny, hungry ghosts were half a step behind their leader who was most definitely not a hungry ghost.

He was definitely taller than the other two, emaciated, with arms that went all the way down to where his knees were, with claws that looked like they wouldn't be out of place on a gorilla-sized sloth. The manic glint in his eyes wasn't that of a mindless beast, no, this was someone whose intelligence would not be outdone, even by a well-educated human, it's just that the only worthy application he had for said intelligence was to hurt and break whatever else it came across. The leather bandages that covered the entirety of his body were just the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

Nadir had found the ringleader.

'Bah, if the Deathlord only sent a Mortwight to capture and kill a Green Sun Prince, he would have killed himself by tripping into the Mouth of the Void from sheer stupidity. Do not think that this is all he has sent after you, Peer Nadir.'

Duly noted, Gyula.

The trio hadn't noticed him, so when they walked by his position Nadir exited the shadow he had been hiding him and swung his poleaxe sideways. Unlike every other time he had used his trusty axe, this time it didn't rip his target apart. Instead the weapon's blade got stuck in the arm of the howling hungry ghost. The roaring, flailing hungry ghost who was stronger than him by a significant degree. Who had just grabbed the poleaxe with its other hand and slammed him against the wall.

Nadir barely managed to avoid getting squashed like a bug, but that didn't mean that he avoided damage altogether. If his exaltation hadn't made him significantly more capable of tanking damage Nadir was sure his ankle would have been broken as opposed to 'merely' heavily bruised.

It was still painful to put weight on that leg, but at least it could still support his weight. The injured hungry ghost ripped the axe out of its arm as its fellow made a mad dash at Nadir.

For a moment it looked like the hungry ghost was going to bite Nadir's throat off, but at the last second deviated from its path, clamping its arms and legs across Nadir's torso and left leg, which would have pulled him down if he hadn't been using the poleaxe like a walking stick.

Which was just what the Mortwight wanted. With a single shriek of pleasure he leapt forward as well, his massive claws pointing directly at Nadir's chest. The other hungry ghost looked on, cradling his injured arm as if it would help his injuries.

Nadir held no illusions on what his fate would be if he didn't stop those claws from tearing his chest apart. So he did the one thing he could still do. He fell.

As he threw himself on the ground he rotated his torso and hips as much as the clinching ghost allowed, putting it in the way of the reaping claws. The Mortwight didn't slow down and without a shred of doubt or regret pierced the hungry ghost's back with all five oversized claws. Nadir barely had half a second to react between the slackening of the hungry ghost's grip and sharing its fate.

With strength he didn't know he had Nadir threw the crippled hungry ghost off of him and jumped backwards. What would have been a death sentence instead was reduced to five wicked, but shallow wounds across his chest. With a quick motion he pulled his hatchet from his waistband and threw it at the remaining hungry ghost. Maybe it was the shock of being attacked when it had thought itself to be safe, but the ghost didn't even try to dodge or defend itself as the axe planted itself in its chest, but it definitely knew that Death has come knocking once more, going by its trashing and screaming.

That...wasn't good. That screaming would attract everyone in the town to this little alley and the Mortwight was already closing in on him again even as Nadir scrambled back up. Ignoring the painful twitching from his chest and ankle Nadir held his poleaxe in front of him. With how little space there was available in the alley he was at a distinct disadvantage with his large poleaxe and he couldn't afford to have this become a battle of endurance and stamina. His decision made him sent a trickle of essence to the skin of his chest, as a safeguard if nothing else.

The Mortwight ran like a speeding bullet, both hands in front of him. Nadir swung.

He overextended and the poleaxe was ripped in half by the claws of one hand. The other tore into the side of his ribcage. But that was what the precaution was for.

The essence had discolored his skin into an amalgam of colors, bright yellow, fiery red, deep blue and a verdant black. Kimbery's famed poison had been bubbling right beneath his skin, waiting for the fool to touch it with his bare body.

The Mortwight's scream easily eclipsed that of his subordinates as he seemingly tried to scratch his own arm off. As if that would be enough to get rid of the tincture.

Let the wretch suffer, was what his instincts were saying. The poison would just have to be enough for the Mortwight. Flexing his pectorals Nadir closed the wounds, but the pain didn't abate in the slightest.

Grabbing his throwing axe from the still corpse of the hungry ghost Nadir ran, it wasn't as if he needed to look behind him to know that there were over fifty enemies hot on his trail.

He just hoped he would hold out until he reached the shadowland.

{●}

Before, Nadir had run for three days straight at speeds no mortal man could reach under his own power, with only enough time in between to get his eight hours of sleep. And after that he had been barely winded, in fact, it felt more like he had gone on a spring walk rather than the dead run he had forced himself to.

Now he was wheezing, clutching his chest, feeling the wounds there pulsing, like a slight breeze might split them open again. His ankle was burning.

Nadir had run all the way to the volcano and had actually ascended it for quite a bit before he had stopped.

They were gathering at the foot of the mountain. Dozens upon dozens of hungry ghosts were only barely being restrained from running and climbing up the mountain. There were two Mortwights as well, neither showing any signs of being inflicted with any poison, so nadir assumed that his earlier foe had succumbed to his injuries or was otherwise incapacitated.

Not like it mattered. Nadir was going to die on this mountain. His wounds slowed him down too much. Even with the slight headstart he had had on the ghost force, they had caught up to him. Even if he continued running, the hungry ghosts would catch up and tear him apart long before he could reach the shadowland.

The start signal must have been given, because the teeming mass went forward, climbing over rocks like it was the greatest thing in the world. The one in the back, the only one to be seated on some kind of unholy steed looked at his position, as if assured that this time there would be no escaping for his prey. What had he told the Yozi Kimbery those four days ago, which felt like four decades by now? 'I will honor my mother in the only way a son could: by succeeding.' It only took four days for that vow to be shattered to smithereens. What was that about changing the conditions for victory until you have attained it by definition? That didn't just sound uncool, it didn't even make any sense.

Nadir suddenly remembered he hadn't been wearing any shoes for the past couple of days when he felt a small, cool stream trickle against his bare sole. It was lava.

Oh right, the magic that made him impervious to any sort of damage caused by liquids was still a...

'HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA'

Gyula's hysterical, avalanche-like laughter stopped Nadir's train of thought dead in its tracks.

What in Malfeas' name? Do you consider my demise to be that hilarious?

'Hihihahehahe, do forgive me Peer Nadir, it is just that I was reminded of something I heard about nearly a century ago. You see, when Creation was still under the sole dominion of the then-Primordials, they had built into its very fabric the means for them to change it as they pleased, whether it was to isolate an area from the space-time continuum, bringing life back to wastelands the size of your country of birth or so much more. After the insurrection of the gods it was one of their exalted that discovered the means to tap into this power, naming it Sorcery and even later on discovered other, weaker plateaus of power that their lesser brethren and the gods could utilize.'

This is hardly the time for a history lesson, Gyula. Get to the point.

'There was one such lesser 'spell' that had been created as a mockery of sorts to benevolent Kimbery. A spell that imitated one of her most well-known ways of attacking and slaying her foes, yet cast in the element she most despised, to the point that it is part of her sobriquet. The name given to that spell is 'Magma Kraken'.'

The hungry ghosts had cleared the way for the two Mortwights, each and every one of them docile like a lapdog. It was rather odd how so many that had been exposed to the void of Oblivion became such attention starving, scenery chewing drama queens, but time and time again this proved to be the case. Maybe it had something to do with their belief they had to be even more dramatic and over the top than a regular ghost's passions drove them to be.

"Hihi"

The Mortwights now stood at the head of the band, the false sun shining high above them, the volcano all but announcing their glorious victory that they would dedicate to the Neverborn.

"HIHIHIHAHHAHHEHEHAHEHHAHIOHOHHHAHHHAHHAH"

For a brief second the entire war band stood still as the laughter hit them. For a moment the Mortwights thought that Nadir had finally lost his mind, yet at the same time they were intimately aware of that sensation and nothing about Nadir's body language said anything along those lines. It might have meant that they had been played for fools and had walked right into a trap. But the very next thing that happened all but confirmed Nadir's insanity to his insane crowd.

From the ground sprouted two tiny magma tendrils, barely thirty centimeters in length. And all they did was crash and grind into the earth over and over again, not even trying to attack any of Nadir's bloodthirsty foes.

Nadir continued laughing maniacally even as the Mortwights and a couple of hungry ghosts made their way towards him. Even if they had noticed the tendrils retreating back into the ground, they wouldn't have cared. The ghosts stood back some distance as the two Mortwights flanked the kneeling, hunched form of nadir Yilmaz, Infernal Exalted of the Scourge Caste and soon to be plaything of the Deathlord the First and Forsaken Lion.

They each simultaneously raised their clawed hands, like executioners before the condemned. To their surprise and suddenly newfound sense of dreaded fear, the ground rose as well.

The two would never know, but beneath them the magma had coalesced and formed a rather familiar shape and lifted a slab of earth, curiously enough one who had been weakened at the edges by a pair of magma tendrils.

The slab, holding Nadir and the two Mortwights, had been flung into the air by another tendril, its length identical to its smaller cousins, but in size? Like the Yozi herself had found a way out of the Surrender Oaths to lay waste to all who would dare harm her newest child.

The two Mortwights had lost their balance when they had been flung into the air and Nadir, who had replaced his insane laughter for a truly diabolical grin, grabbed them by their ankles and dragged them along as he jumped off of the airborne slab and into the magma, mouth wide open.

He was the only one of the three to enjoy the experience.

The moment he went underground the prodigious tentacle that he had called forth, which had already been leaning over a small cliff, lost cohesion and fell apart, showering the dozen hungry ghosts with a rain of magma. Their screams were nothing compared to the thunderous roar that the slab made when it crashed down again, the avalanche dragging and crushing another score of hungry ghosts.

The survivors hastily turned around, more than willing to abandon their fellow ghosts and their mission if it meant they didn't have to get swallowed up by the river of lava that was closing in on them.

Then the magma kraken made its return, blocking their escape path even as it came crashing down on the ground, crushing it and making even more magma flow.

What little grass and other foliage that had called the mountain home were burned from mere exposure to the massive heat. Entire sections of the volcano wer torn to shreds, dragging itself and anything on it into the molten depths of the imitation of Creation. And not even the leader, the Nephwrack who heard the whispers of the Neverborn better than any other on or near the volcano, was safe from Nadir's wrath.

Even as he tried to escape a tentacle had thrown him and his ghost horse off, into a pool of magma. His soulsteel plate armor protected him from the worst of it, unlike his steed, but even that wasn't enough to safeguard him entirely. His armor, weighing him down, hindered him from reaching the shore. He ignored the splatters of magma burning their way through his head as he, with a herculean effort dragged himself out of the pool. His otherwise already ghoulish face was half ashes and scorch marks, but that didn't matter to him. The tentacles were gone and there was a kilometer long lake of magma leading away from the mountain, to the west.

Even now he could see a tiny blip stumbling away from the volcano. He would avenge this humiliation soon enough, but first he had to take care of this annoyance.

The Nephwrack was surrounded by magma on all sides, yet the only thing he did was draw his unmarred blade from its equally pristine sheath. For a couple of seconds he allowed his fell essence to cloak his blade as his prayer to the Neverborn echoed through the underworld.

Then, with a single slash, he ripped open a portal to the Labyrinth and watched it greedily suck in the superheated earth like the drek it was.

He ran across the cool surface until he was well away from any other lava-related traps and hindrances. He inhaled sharply, gathering even more of his essence in his mouth and when it had reached its peak, he spat out the black ooze and watched it form into a hulking beast of a shadow-wolf, easily more than four meters tall. Then, without a single word, the mighty beasts shrunk, a shadow sticking to the ground, racing off to find his prey and to keep him in place until its master arrived to kill the filthy living scum; its master close behind him.

Behind them, the last pieces of the volcano's western walls came tumbling down, the gaping ravine spilling ever greater quantities of lava in its surroundings. None would come near the place for the next century.

{●}

He was nearing the shadowland.

He was now exactly nine and a half kilometers west of the volcano and was surrounded on all sides by trees. He was slowly making his way forward, looking in all directions to make sure he wouldn't accidentally walk right past his last ticket back into Creation.

He knew he had eliminated quite a number of the ghosts with his little stunt with the volcano, but he hadn't stuck around long enough to see if he had gotten them all. There was always the possibility that the shadowland was crawling with soldiers of the Lion as well, so as long as he could stay ahead of any news that told them of what had happened with the other group, the better his chances of sneaking past them.

'Nadir, suspicious shadow closing in at seven o'clock.'

Nadir immediately saw what Gyula meant. A disturbingly black patch was flitting in between the trees, slithering along vines and crawling in between small cracks that a corporeal being had no business ever being in.

It leapt at him, a lupine maw making up the majority of its head.

Nadir spat lava at it. Then buried his hatchet in its head, forcing the lava further down its body. It still squirmed somewhat so Nadir shot the remainder of the lava he had been storing in his mouth at it and kicked it right where the lava landed.

His foot went right through the shadow creature as it dispersed into motes of essence.

'That was a product of necromancy, a shadow automaton whose sole purpose is to hunt and restrain their prey, killing if possible, but stopping them from advancing while their master closes the distance is their true task.'

"In other words, at least one of my pursuers is still alive. And they can use necromancy, so probably the Nephwrack, correct?"

'Indeed. Battling one of those would have been vexing even if you were at full capacity.'

Yet said master had already made his way all the way to the forest, his heavy footfalls like a stampede of elephants as far as nadir's ears were concerned.

Nadir ran once more.

He drew his hatchet, bent his knees and cut off grass stalks and flowers and leaves and whatever else was in his blade's way, scattering the pieces of foliage all around him, stuffing even more in his pockets.

Then a tree came crashing down beside him.

The Nephwrack had caught up with him and the servant of the Neverborn had clearly seen better days.

Half his face was just gone. Left of his nose was nothing but blackened, cracked bone, which just emphasized his original, ghoulish visage on the right. Clad in hauntingly beautiful articulated plate armor he drew a sword, a roman spatha if Nadir's guess was correct, and with a half snarl the Nephwrack charged right at Nadir.

Even wounded as the Nephwrack was, his swordplay was clearly greater than even the most talented and trained mortal swordsman Creation had ever seen, certainly greater than anything Nadir could have done. But that was only when one didn't include the Excellencies that had become part of his very soul when he had given it to the Yozi and their cause.

'That sword is cloaked in a powerful illusion, Peer Nadir. It is not a mortal sword, but a daiklave.'

Gyula's warning had come just in time. Nadir now heard the wind half a meter in front of the sword crying as it got reaped, now he saw the slight shimmer that betrayed the veil covering the sword's true form. If he hadn't, his surprise would have ended with his lifeless body seemingly hanging in midair.

'Peer Nadir, the daiklave, just like the armor, is made from Soulsteel, a material crafted from ores mined from the depths of the underworld and the captured and smelted souls of mortals. While it is unlikely, the Nephwrack may have attuned the sword to such an extent that he might be capable of using its ability to drain your essence straight from your soul.'

Wait, that sword could drain essence from its victims?

'As I said, it is unlikely that a mere specter would spent such a great amount of essence solely to have the option available, but it is not inconceivable.'

Must. Have. That. Sword.

The Nephwrack turned around, slashing and twirling the oversized blade like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Faking a dodge in the Nephwrack's blind spot, Nadir jumped up a tree, soundlessly sprinting across the branches. A familiar and very welcome smell curled its way into Nadir's nostrils and with a smile he jumped down.

A field that seemed to have sprung up in between the dense forest. Fairy circles made of stone and flowers. The smell of life that Nadir only now realized he had missed so much.

He was at the shadowland and the Nephwrack was right behind him.

Four seconds. That was all the time that Nadir had at his disposal before the Nephwrack arrived and he used the time to cut as much grass and other grey greenery in pieces and then turned around and threw it all in the air.

The slight breeze made them dance in the air, holding them aloft when gravity would have otherwise dragged them back down below.

The stage had been set and just as the Nephwrack entered the shadowland, Nadir jumped.

The servant of the Neverborn would never know it, but allowing Nadir to jump sealed his fate. Nadir's victory had already been set in stone.

Nadir jumped and landed on one, insignificant blade of grass. The moment the Nephwrack found him, high in the air, Nadir was gone again.

The Nephwrack couldn't fly and now Nadir could.

The Nephwrack must have been chasing him ever since he had entered the underworld and Nadir's constant success in managing to avoid them or escape from them must have vexed him immensely. It wouldn't surprise the warlock if his death was the only thing on the Nephwrack's mind now.

And that single-mindedness had put him alone, wounded and half-blinded in a forest against a foe that could be anywhere, even right above him.

Even so wounded he was still too strong for Nadir to take him easily. Even as he moved without sound in corners the ghost could not have possibly been paying attention to he had been deflected by the sword. But that didn't matter.

The Nephwrack hadn't noticed that the both of them had been etching closer and closer to the borders of the shadowland. He hadn't noticed the weightless Scourge landing softly on his own outstretched daiklave.

He didn't notice the tincture filled hand brush against the back of his head.

The pain took away what was left of his sight. It robbed him of his skill and wit and he had left was wild, amateurish swings of the sword, which Nadir could have dodged in his sleep.

He punched the Nephwrack once more in the face, letting loose another dose of the spiteful sea tincture in his empty eye socket.

The Nephwrack swung sideways, hoping to catch his opponent in the chest. Nadir ducked and flew forwards, pushing the both of them over the edge, into Creation.

Ghosts that are exposed to the light of Sol Invictus are left immaterial and starved of essence. Nadir brought the glory of Adorjan once more to the surface and headbutted the somehow still material Nephwrack on its head, forcing another dose of tincture down his gullet.

The Nephwrack was blinded, yet he still saw his foe. The ring-shaped caste mark shining on his brow, the green sun flames draped over him like a glorious mantle, the light of the most hated sun illuminating everything else.

Oblivion had called him and taken his name and life so long ago. Now, with a smile, it took everything else that was him.

With the light of the real sun shining once more on him Nadir could feel his clothes and hatchet disintegrate into nothing.

"And once more I'm left naked. Gyula, please tell me this isn't going to be a recurring thing."

'No, Peer Nadir, I do believe that that will not happen again.'

"What a glorious event it is for one of the Green Sun Princes to finally grace Creation with his presence after his no-doubt terribly important pleasure trip through the underworld." Before the naked Nadir stood a massive grey hound demon, its maw and spiky fur showing sparks of green fire.

"I can assure you, Chernobaalim, that there is very little in the underworld that can be considered pleasurable."

"Of course, Green Sun Prince. It is after all a failing of mine that I was unable to locate your exalted self for the past couple of days, despite that you were so close by. The underworld and Creation are just a shadowland away from one another."

"Enough, Chernobaalim. Are you to escort me to Malfeas for my introduction to the Unquestionables or have you come only to vent your petty problems to me?"

"No, Peer. The althing Infernal has assembled and reached the decision that all Princes must convene in what was once known as the country of Japan, now known as the eleventh area of the 'Holy Brittanian Empire'."

Area 11? And Nadir didn't even know where he was. The Chernobaalim, picking up on the unasked question, continued

"We are currently some hundred kilometers north of the Russian city of Volgograd. I have been assured that there is a fellow Green Sun Prince further into the European territory who is willing to ferry you along." Then he glanced at the soulsteel armor and daiklave that were just lying there. "And will you give me the honor of carrying your spoils of war whilst we make our way to your fellow Peer?" The tremendous lack of desire of the demon to play pack horse was unmistakable. Nadir didn't care.

"You can carry the armor. If my fellow exalt shows an interest in having his own set of soulsteel armor he can have it. If he doesn't I can always trade it for some favors, but pay attention to what I say next, Chernobaalim: The. Sword. Is. Mine. And. Nobody. Else. Touches. It."

The demon nodded curtly and with his tail set the armor on his back.

"By the way, you wouldn't happen to have a set of clothes on you, do you?"

With something that couldn't possibly have been a wolfish grin the Chernobaalim strutted off to a lone, abandoned shovel and scarfed it down with abandon.

Then he turned around, somehow making the armor not even rattle slightly, and from his maw spew forth a cloud of black smoke and green fire, which coalesced into a perfectly suitable set of brass and green clothes that seemed to have been tailor made for Nadir. It even included a pair of shoes!

He got dressed in less than a minute and slid the sheath with the heavy sword in his belt. Without a word said the warlock and the demon started walking.

'We may have gotten on a bit of a false start, but now that we have dealt with that distraction it is time to focus on the true task at hand: the Reclamation and the glory of the Yozi.'

You're right Gyula. The underworld was in the end nothing more than a test run.

It was high time for this Scourge to show Malfeas and the Yozi what success and true victory really looked like.

AN 2: I must confess Nadir is by far one of my favorite GSP. Why? His creator, exploiting a houserule I made, gave him five purchases of Intolerable Burning Truths. We have Kimbery in miniature here people, with the zoom-zoom-murder Charms of Adorjan and a hateboner for Cornelia.

Expect things to escalate.