The moment Max stepped forward, a low, almost unnatural hum pierced his ears. It sounded like water falling from the sky, like distant ancient voices blending into a single deep note. The space around him slowly pulled itself out of darkness. Colors grew brighter, outlines sharpened, as if the world were waking from sleep. And with it, something else seemed to stir – something hidden from ordinary eyes. Max had the strange feeling that this world was reacting to him.

  He stood at the edge of a vast canyon that seemed endless. Waterfalls lined its walls on every side, crashing down with such force that the air trembled. Thick mist rose high above the chasm, forming a pale, shimmering haze. The water gathered into a wide river with a dark, almost metallic sheen, then flowed into a narrow gorge that looked like the open mouth of the world itself.

  Along the roads leading toward the center of the valley stood rows of small houses with red roofs. On every door, or beside it, there was an image of a weapon – a sword, a battle axe, or something similar. Max guessed the residents likely belonged to different clans.

  What drew his attention most, however, was the temple standing in the middle of the river. It rose like the memory of something sacred. Three thin spires, sharp as spears, pierced the sky. The temple glowed from within with a soft, shifting light that slowly changed color, almost like breathing. Waves crashed against its walls, yet the structure did not move, even though the current was incredibly strong.

  When Max turned around, he saw the portal mirror behind him. It stood alone in a clearing, and within its surface he could see the walls of the fortress. Maybe he should go back while he still could. A quiet sense of danger pressed at his thoughts. He usually trusted logic over instinct, but still…

  “That’s what the first level of the temple looks like,” Marvin said, pulling him from his thoughts.

  Max noticed small trees growing along both sides of the road leading to the temple, each bearing round fruits. Around them, transparent ghosts of strange creatures appeared as if from nowhere. After moving only a few dozen steps away, they faded again, as though leaving the range of visibility. The variety of living – or rather, dead – beings was impressive. Most were heading down toward the temple, though not all of them.

  In a nearby gazebo, two figures sat calmly talking. They were clearly visible even from a distance. The first was a giant of an unknown race with purple-tinted skin and a long white braid. The hilt of a massive blade jutted straight out of his chest. The second was a naga. Judging by her bare chest, she was female, with a long tail and webbed fingers. Her dark green scales resembled the depths of the sea.

  Looking away from the striking pair, Max noticed a familiar group of orcs walking toward the temple in the distance. He could see them clearly despite how far away they were. This place had a strange property: it concealed long-time residents from sight, but it did not hide newly arrived souls.

  How do they even know where to go? Max watched as they crossed the bridge leading to the temple.

  “We’re heading there too,” Marvin said eagerly, following his gaze. “I just need to introduce you to Vialon, my friend. He’s always in the temple. That’s where the orcs’ souls will go through initialization.”

  “Initialization?” Max repeated as he walked beside him.

  “In the Temple of the Last Path, the master decides their fate,” Marvin explained.

  “And who is this master?”

  “Heron-va-Lai – our Overlord. One of the few who still follows the first canons to preserve at least part of the dead and maintain balance. But only the most worthy earn a place here. This city is one of the few safe strongholds for souls.”

  “And what happens to the unworthy?” Max asked.

  Marvin glanced around, then lowered his voice.

  “There isn’t enough space for everyone. You can see it yourself – this city is all we have. And lately, with recent events, things have become much worse…”

  “But it looks like there’s plenty of room,” Max said, looking across the canyon. If this was only one level, there were probably others.

  “Room?” Marvin’s eyes twitched. “Every day, millions die across different worlds. And where do their souls go? Part of me understands those Overlords who moved into the world of the living. They stopped supporting their afterlife planes, but maybe they were simply exhausted after thousands of years. By consuming souls in living worlds, they at least slow the overcrowding of ghosts. Yes, our plane is not the only one, but compared to the past – when gods were present and there were thousands of rulers – now only fragments remain. There won’t be enough space for everyone.”

  Marvin was already shouting excitedly and waving his arms, which made passersby turn their heads – souls, more precisely. Max had been about to call out to one of them. He wanted to know who they had been in life and how they lived here. But the moment they noticed Marvin, they quickly changed direction and headed down the slope.

  “This information is not for outsiders,” a stern voice rang out.

  Marvin squeaked and suddenly became half-transparent. Meanwhile, the owner of the voice continued,

  “Marvin! Did you find her?”

  An incredibly tall, fair-haired elf approached them in a long cloak. He did not seem to walk but to glide smoothly above the pavement. At his appearance, some of the locals slipped into nearby houses, as if that had been their destination all along.

  “Acolyte van Vialon!” Marvin bowed deeply, then straightened at once. “I didn’t find her. The soul is young but hides well. Still, we’ll find her! When have I ever failed?”

  “Like when you releeeased the soul of the Khar’yan chieftain? Or let the Wasteland buffalo go?” Vialon stretched certain words in a strange way, as if inviting others to finish them for him.

  “But the bull didn’t like being locked up…” Marvin muttered, staring at the ground.

  “And he dissolved into nothing. A wonderful end for such a noble spirit. But enough of that. Will you introduce us to your guest?”

  When the elf looked at Max, it felt as though a bucket of icy water had been poured over him. Marvin glanced at him as well, as if suddenly remembering he had not come alone.

  “Yes! Right. This is… by the way, what was your name again?”

  “I’m Max,” he said with a sigh.

  “Max…” the elf repeated softly. “I can sense you are not ordinary. A runaway Otherworld Messenger?”

  “I think he’s new!” Marvin blurted out quickly, as if afraid someone else would say it first.

  “New. How interesting…” van Vialon said thoughtfully. His gaze grew even sharper. “Did you come here of your own will, or by order? You should know that the domain of Heron-va-Lai, Overlord of the plane of destruction within the War Pantheon, is protected by a soul treaty among the pantheon’s members. At the last hearing, territorial inviolability within the altar’s bounds was guaranteed, and any intrusion may be considered – ”

  At first, Max listened carefully, since any information could be useful. But after the first few lines about the domain of Heron-va-Lai, he began to lose track of the meaning and simply let the elf continue.

  “I came on my own. No one sent me,” Max cut in when he realized the speech would not end.

  “On your own… excellent,” the elf said quietly.

  “He can work for us!” Marvin exclaimed happily, earning a sharp look from Vialon.

  “He will, of course, have a choice: join the War Pantheon or flee to the world of the living and become a traitor,” the elf said, looking down at Max as if already expecting betrayal. “In any case, follow me. You must stand before the heart of the city.”

  “Is Heron-va-Lai the heart of the city?” Max asked.

  “You could say that, though not entirely. Heron-va-Lai is our glorious sleeping king. His heart is our heart, and his soul is our altar in the void. And he is very much alive, by the way. Come. But first, sign this.”

  The elf held out a scroll that looked ancient, as if it had been created centuries ago. Seriously? They can’t conjure normal paper? Max took the yellowed scroll carefully, afraid it might crumble in his hands. Only a few words were written on it, and he could understand them.

  Soul Contract.

  “A contract? Why would I need that?” Max asked. The word itself made him wary. You should always read carefully what hides between the lines and in the fine print.

  For a moment, the elf seemed genuinely surprised.

  “Isn’t that why you came? A service contract that allows you to work for us. In return, you receive protection, employment, and development. A standard soul service agreement. Only your consent is required – touch the scroll in the center.”

  Max studied the symbols and saw that they formed clear meanings. The first sign indeed meant “Soul Contract.” The second meant “eternity.”

  Eternal service.

  He did not even bother looking at the third. He despised contracts, and this kind most of all.

  “You understand the language of the dead…” The elf leaned closer, and a wave of cold rolled off him. “Whoever you are, you’ve revealed yourself. You’re not an ordinary Otherworld Messenger. Do you serve a Death Overlord? Leave at once!” His expression suddenly shifted. “Or no. Heron-va-Lai wants to see you. Come.”

  Max barely had time to process that before the elf was already moving down the hill toward the temple. The orc souls had gone there earlier, and none had returned. Max had no desire to follow, but information mattered more.

  The plan of this War Pantheon did not look noble. It felt more like schemes and manipulation than honor. What would happen next was unclear. Max glanced at Marvin, but the white-haired Messenger only shrugged uncertainly.

  “Come on!” the elf called from below.

  Max’s instincts told him not to go. Still, he hoped he could leave at any moment, just as he had before. He felt as though this place might bend to his will if needed. With that thought, he followed the elf.

  Up close, the temple was far larger than it had seemed. Its tall windows were dark, and golden runes were carved into the walls. White light seeped through the cracks between the stones.

  Then Max heard it – a faint but desperate scream. It seemed to leak through the walls along with the light. He had no doubt it belonged to an orc. The certainty formed in his mind without effort.

  The scream came again. Max barely noticed when another elf stepped out from an open archway to meet them. Judging by the ears beneath her hooded robe, she was female. She bowed and took her place at the entrance.

  “Please wait a moment,” she said, her voice soft, like tiny bells in an ancient forest.

  She closed the gates and stood still, as if waiting for something. Her gray robe shifted in the wind, as bleak as everything around them.

  A sharp unease ran through Max. The urge to leave grew stronger. From within the temple came a thick flow of death energy, almost tangible. It felt familiar, yet foreign and wrong at the same time, as if he were stepping into territory that did not belong to him. There was something twisted in that power.

  The scream came again, and now there was sorrow in it. Max suddenly remembered where he had heard such a sound before. Not long ago, he had unraveled a soul himself. It was the same cry a soul made when it suffered.

  Before he could think, he rushed forward, darted past the startled elf woman, and burst through the temple gates.

  “Stooop!” the elf shouted behind him, but Max did not listen.

  A moment later, he froze.

  Unlike the canyon outside, all beings here were fully visible. They had gathered around a central arena where something terrible was unfolding. On the arena floor stood an orc who looked alive – too real for this place. His mouth opened far wider than it should have, so wide that Max wondered whether orcs were even capable of such a thing. This one was black. He had never seen an orc like that before.

  “You are one of us…” one of the gray orcs whispered.

  Then they all screamed as the black orc inhaled.

  He was not breathing air. He was drawing in their energy.

  The roar and shrill cries pierced Max’s ears. Light burst from the gray orcs’ chests, slipping through cracks in their skin. Some dropped to their knees. Others remained standing only by sheer will.

  The crowd around the arena stirred. There was murmuring. Even laughter.

  It looked like a grim feast where the main course was the souls of orcs.

  Max turned and saw that the elf and Marvin remained by the doors. Marvin gave him a gloomy shrug and vanished. A satisfied smile rested on the elf’s face. Did he truly believe Max would not be consumed as well?

  “You walked in on your oooown,” the elf whispered before disappearing too.

  I want to return to my body, Max thought, and the faint outline of a doorway began to form before him.

  “Stop.”

  The commanding voice cut through everything.

  All beings froze. A crushing pressure fell onto Max’s shoulders, as if an invisible force were pushing him into the ground. The black orc turned his head, and Max flinched at the sight of dozens of massive fangs jutting in all directions from his mouth.

  But the voice did not belong to the orc.

  “No. I am not an orc,” the voice said again. “I am part of this place. I am its heart. Welcome. You are not the one I was waiting for.”

  “Greetings,” Max forced out, struggling against the crushing pressure.

  “You think I am only a bodiless voice? Almost correct. But in truth, you stand inside my domain. Time turned me from a being into this place itself. Everything around you is me. Whether I let you leave depends on your answers.”

  Max did not like that voice. It carried arrogance and cold authority. He glanced around for an exit, but there was none.

  “You cannot leave,” the voice continued calmly. “Only my rules apply here, and only I decide your fate.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Are you Heron-va-Lai?” Max asked, already expecting nothing good. “Why did you lure me here? And what are you doing to these souls?”

  “You care more about them than about yourself. Interesting. Then listen. The soul of every creature can generate as much energy as it needs and can exist forever. I could send these souls into the void, where they would slowly lose their minds in isolation and fade into nothing. Here, their end is faster. Consider it mercy.”

  “But they’re being devoured. They’re in pain. You’re taking their strength and energy,” Max shot back.

  “You are partially correct. At this moment, I require energy to sustain this plane. Pain is a moment compared to eternity. The beings who come to this temple hunger for power. They choose their fate themselves. Once, destroying souls drove me close to madness. Now that burden falls on those who live within my heart. Yes, they lose their sanity, but they gain imagined power and allow others to survive. The strongest endure. The orcs proved unworthy.”

  “They didn’t even resist. They couldn’t,” Max said, anger rising.

  “Exactly. And that decided their fate. This is the War Plane. It is a place for the strong.”

  Why did it feel as though the voice was stalling? Was it waiting for him to collapse? No matter how hard Max resisted the force pressing on his shoulders and trying to pierce into him, his strength did not seem to fade. For a moment, his thoughts drifted. This place was nothing like he had imagined death would be. If heaven existed, it would be light and warm, with parks, good food, and kind people.

  “Oh, such a place did exist,” Va-Lai’s voice replied, as if reading his thoughts. “When the First Gods still ruled the War Pantheon. But that was long ago. I have decided. You will be unraveled, and your energy will sustain this plane until we find her.”

  Find who? Max did not know. Probably the same soul Marvin had been searching for.

  Suddenly, a powerful current seized him and pulled him upward. He looked up and saw that the ceiling had vanished. In its place floated a pulsing, blood-red mass that tightened and loosened again and again.

  A heart.

  “I see you are stronger than an ordinary Messenger. An Overlord, like me, but newborn and pure. You will become part of me. You will not die completely. You will become my new heart. Forever. That was the purpose of the contract, but we can proceed without it. Your will is not required. I have served too long without reward.”

  Now true fear gripped him. Become part of this place? Remain here forever? And not even disappear completely?

  No. He would fight.

  “Stop!” Max pushed back with everything he had. The pain was unbearable. Threads of energy stretched from his body toward the heart, and it felt as if he were being torn apart. The threads shone so brightly that even the surrounding souls squinted.

  “It is too late. Do not resist,” the voice said. “You may damage your soul. Such wounds take a very long time to heal.”

  Max barely heard it. He focused on one thought: return. Return home. Return to his body. Return to the fortress.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the pressure increasing. The current was pulling more than just him. Several nearby souls lost their footing and were dragged upward, screaming.

  The pain burned through him, but he refused to give in. If he survived, he would help the orcs. Darkness crept into his vision.

  “Rot in hell…” he whispered, not even realizing he had spoken in an unfamiliar language.

  His body grew heavy, as if his spirit were being ripped out of it. Just a little more and he would cease to exist. With that thought came a strange calm.

  Then the current vanished.

  Max fell.

  Everything went still.

  He regained awareness lying on the floor, feeling the wholeness of his soul return. And more than that, something strange was happening around him.

  The space froze.

  Then it trembled, as if struck by an earthquake. Cracks split across the temple walls. The shaking intensified, and chunks of the roof crashed down. Souls rushed toward the fractures opening in the walls, trying to escape before falling into oblivion. But fissures began to tear open across the floor as well.

  Rifts into the void.

  The plane was collapsing.

  Max watched as several beings were dragged by streams of energy straight into the abyss. When he looked up, the heart was gone. Through a crack in the ceiling, he saw a shattered sky. The world of Heron-va-Lai was breaking apart.

  “I was wrong,” the voice in his head said, now only a fading echo. “I failed to sever the link. It is as if something still anchors you to the world of the living. As if you are still alive.”

  “I am alive.”

  For several long moments, there was nothing but the cracking of walls and the rumble of splitting earth. Beneath it all, distant laughter echoed. In the widening rifts, there was only black emptiness. Max could almost feel the surprise and bitter amusement of the being that had once been this place.

  “Impossible… impossible!” Va-Lai repeated. “You are not an Overlord. Unless… unless you are something else entirely. Listen. While I still remain, before I fade into oblivion, hear me. You must place your own altar here. You must save these souls. Even if you cannot preserve my entire world, save at least part of it. Save the strongest souls – the heroes gathered here throughout the history of my plane. They deserve to exist. You will rule here.”

  Rule? In a place where souls devoured one another? That was hardly appealing.

  “It is only a few who consume others. Not all are like that. You will command them to stop, and only your laws will apply. If I am right, you will not need to destroy souls at all. There will be enough power to sustain the plane without it.”

  Why did he think Max could succeed where he had failed?

  “Because you are not an Overlord!” the voice answered sharply. “You can preserve this plane.”

  “And take your place?”

  For a moment, there was only silence, broken by falling stone and tearing ground.

  “You feel it yourself. This world is collapsing. Act now, or all these souls will vanish forever. You know it must be done. You feel it. It is your fate,” the voice whispered.

  Become the cause of millions of souls perishing – or save them? Max did not even know how many existed in this plane. Thousands? Millions? Was this another manipulation? Even if it was, he could not allow everything to disappear. He felt responsible for what was happening. Perhaps he should never have come here at all. But the choice was already before him.

  “How do I do it? How do I place an altar?” Max asked. Inside, everything felt frozen. What if he could not return to the world of the living? What if this choice trapped him here forever?

  “Just will it. And now… farewell.”

  “Wait. Why did you attack me?” But the voice did not answer.

  The world roared around him. Entire fragments of space crumbled into dust and dissolved into the void.

  The altar.

  Max hesitated, watching souls dragged into cracks that led to nothingness. Let them vanish? No.

  He took a deep breath.

  I want to place an altar.

  The moment the thought formed, an altar appeared at the center of the temple, exactly as he imagined it: a tall black column shaped like a pyramid. The former ruler had used a living heart. Max had created a column. He did not know why that image came to him, but it worked.

  Yet it was not enough.

  He felt the altar pulling at him. It needed a guardian, a king who would bring order to this pantheon. With every passing second, the pull grew stronger. Someone had to be bound to it to rule this place. The knowledge settled in his mind as if it had always been there.

  But Max could not stay.

  He looked around. Only Marvin had rushed into the temple, and the dissatisfied elf stood nearby. Who was the better choice – a foolish chatterbox or a cold, bitter elder?

  The world froze at the edge of destruction. Time itself seemed to pause.

  Before his eyes, a thin black thread appeared, visible only to him. Instinctively, Max stretched it from white-haired Marvin to the altar.

  Everything changed at once.

  The rumble faded. The cracks sealed. The world became whole again. Only the soul of the former Overlord – and those already consumed by oblivion – were gone forever.

  For several minutes, Max watched as souls cautiously emerged from hiding. The temple stood intact once more.

  “What… what was that?” Marvin whispered in shock. “I tried to teleport, but I couldn’t. Everything was collapsing! You! What did you do to the king?” He suddenly lunged at Max and grabbed his jacket. “I knew it! You came to kill him! Traitor!”

  Marvin was stronger than he looked. Max was shaken hard enough that his head throbbed.

  “Maaaarvin!” the elf called sharply. “Have you noticed that our world still stands? More than that, it is no longer collapsing. It feels as though we have reclaimed it. And I can sense the power of the altar.” He glanced at Marvin, then at the black pyramid in the center of the temple, and finally bowed to Max. “Human… have you appointed a new Overlord?”

  His gaze lingered on the altar.

  “That is a very interesting altar you have created.”

  Marvin stood there, blinking.

  “A new… Overlord? Is that even possible?” he muttered, then dropped to the floor in such a deep bow that his forehead struck the stone with a loud thud.

  Max felt drained, as if that single act had taken everything out of him. It was time to return. Then a thought struck him. What if he had to stay here? How would Ruslan and Kristina manage without him?

  The moment he wished it, a door appeared before him, just like before.

  “Are you leaving us?” the elf asked without lifting his head.

  “But an Overlord cannot abandon his plane!” Marvin cried. He still did not seem to understand that he was now the local Overlord.

  “Yeah… I’ve already stayed here too long,” Max muttered, glancing at Marvin and already slightly regretting his choice.

  “And what are we supposed to do?” the elf asked, genuine anxiety breaking through his usual cold tone.

  “You can’t leave! At least inspect your domain first!” Marvin grabbed Max’s hand. “We’ll show you everything. Follow me!”

  Max sighed. He probably had a little time left. Half an hour, maybe. Fine. He would stay a bit longer. First, though, he needed to explain to Marvin that he, not Max, was the Overlord here.

  “And here we have the dump!” Marvin announced loudly as they stepped out of another passage.

  It turned out the plane was divided into many levels, all connected by a massive mystical pillar. The pillar ran through every level, and at its top was a platform on the highest one – the level of the temple. From there, it was possible to move to other levels of the plane. Marvin now explained how it worked.

  Local souls with the right status – level wardens or Messengers – used these transitions easily. Max, however, needed instruction.

  Traveling between levels through the pillar felt like riding a high-speed elevator that shot you through space and dimensions.

  Earlier, Marvin had shown him the residential level, a city where ancient huts stood side by side with skyscrapers. Then they had visited a forest-covered level Marvin called the conservatory. Strangely, no one lived there.

  Now they stood on a completely different level, before a vast lake filled with a strange substance. At first, Max assumed aquatic souls lived here, but he was wrong.

  Behind them stood the gray trunk of the inter-level pillar. The enormous valley was surrounded by cliffs. At its center, something shifted and pulsed – a living, colorful mass that looked like thick jelly.

  An entire lake of it.

  “What is this?” Max asked. The energy radiating from it was powerful and unmistakably tied to souls.

  “As I said, space is limited. If a soul is weak but might still be useful one day, it’s dropped here,” Marvin replied, pointing at the lake.

  “So this… is made of souls?”

  “Of course. Destroying a soul requires enormous energy, but it also releases a massive amount of power. Here, the souls are intact. They simply exist in this state. There’s no room for them to live an afterlife,” Marvin shrugged. “You could say they’re on pause.”

  The place felt like a storage room crammed with things no one wanted to throw away but had nowhere to put.

  “If we create new levels, could you resettle these souls?” Max asked.

  “New levels?” Marvin snorted. “Impossible. The plane’s space is limited. For thousands of years, it has been redistributed again and again. Conscious souls fought fiercely for every fragment of territory. The only way to gain space is to destroy those who defend it.”

  Max was not convinced. The plane was sustained by the energy of the souls living here, and they produced more energy than the plane consumed. What prevented them from simply adding another level and moving these souls there? If it failed, they could remove the level later.

  He stepped closer and touched the pillar connecting the levels, trying to understand how to add another one.

  “We’ve tried for millennia,” Marvin said. “Expanding the space is impossible. Our former Overlord tried everything.”

  He was about to say more when he froze.

  The pillar began to change.

  It expanded, growing thicker and taller.

  And the number of levels increased.

  Max had managed to add one new level. He could feel that he was capable of creating more, but he decided to wait and see the consequences. What if the plane truly could not be expanded and everything collapsed again?

  “What the hell?!” Marvin shouted. “There are laws of the world! Overlords can’t change the size of their planes!”

  “It’s not my plane. You’re the Overlord here,” Max replied calmly.

  “What do you mean, my plane? I – ” Marvin froze. At last, he realized that what he had been feeling was not a headache but the power of the plane itself, now tied to him. He focused and gave a mental command.

  The sky turned bright pink.

  A wave of negative energy rose from the lake. The souls clearly did not like that, and the sky quickly shifted back to normal.

  “If there’s new space…” Max pointed at the pillar. “Can you move the souls from the lake there?”

  “I’m the Overlord!” Marvin yelled, still not listening. “Holy cows… Can you expand it again?” he whispered in awe.

  Max considered it. The plane was ancient and massive. Even adding one small level had required a serious amount of energy. He could manage one more, but maintaining new space over time would demand far more power.

  Then a different idea formed. What if, instead of expanding this old plane, he created another one? A new plane with its own altar, just as he had done before. That would require less energy than stretching an aging structure. And both planes would be connected through him, through his strange power. The power of death? Of the afterlife? Something close to that.

  “Let’s go,” Max said and stepped through a door that appeared before him.

  He tried to pull Marvin along, but it didn’t work. Marvin was now bound to his plane and could not leave.

  So each plane needed its own Overlord.

  Max grabbed the old elf instead, and together they appeared in Nothing.

  They were suspended in empty space.

  Max glanced at Vialon. The old elf’s eyebrows slowly rose in pure shock.

  “Nooo! We’re doomed! How did I end up here?!” Vialon grumbled for a while, his voice echoing through the void. Max even covered his ears until the elf finally calmed down. “Why aren’t we dissolving into Nothing?” Vialon asked at last, confused.

  Max ignored him and focused on recalling the feeling from when he had created the first altar. You just have to will it.

  But each attempt met emptiness. It felt as though something small was missing. Had he used up all his power?

  He must have spent a specific type of energy to create the first altar and expand the plane. Was it gone now? What if he could not do anything else? What if they were stuck here forever?

  It felt like an eternity of Vialon’s muttering and Max’s focused concentration before he understood. He needed time. Slowly, he felt the power returning. He could try again.

  Energy began to flow through him, vast amounts of it, moving toward the place where the new altar would stand. Over centuries, the plane of Heron-va-Lai had accumulated enormous reserves. Now most of that power streamed through Max and into his soul.

  In the gray Nothing, the outline of a black pyramid began to appear. At first it was only a faint silhouette, then it gained color and shape.

  Ghostly drops of sweat slid down Max’s face. The process drained him completely. What if this damaged Marvin’s plane? It shouldn’t. He was only drawing energy from it, not tearing it apart.

  Time passed. Max felt as though he might lose consciousness – if that was even possible here. Why had the first altar formed so quickly while this one demanded so much strength?

  It felt as if he himself were dissolving under the sheer volume of power flowing through him.

  Then, at last, the altar fully formed.

  And this altar already had its king.

  The old, grumbling elf – Vialon – nearly fainted from shock. Unlike Marvin, he immediately understood what had happened. Within moments, a dense forest sprang up around the unconscious Max.

  Vialon knew how space and subspace were shaped within a plane. The new plane was small, but for the first time in his long existence, he had witnessed the creation of an entirely new plane, complete with its own altar.

  He could hardly believe it. Was everything truly not lost for this world?

  But there was a problem. The new plane had no souls, no wardens, no Messengers. Where would it get energy?

  Vialon made a firm decision. His plane would be far better than the chaotic mess left under Marvin. From the very beginning, it would be structured properly.

  Max regained awareness when someone started shaking him violently.

  Seriously… how many times was that going to happen?

  “I neeeed souls! And Messengers! A lot of them!” Vialon shouted, almost frantic.

  So much for his usual cold superiority. But when Max looked into the elf’s eyes, burning with excitement, any urge to scold him vanished. Let him work, then. Just don’t shake him again.

  With a simple act of will, Max created a massive stone doorway between Marvin’s plane and Vialon’s. It looked like an arch wrapped in vines. A second later, Vialon reshaped it to match the style of his new plane. The old elf moved fast.

  “By the way, we are no longer part of the War Pantheon,” Vialon said thoughtfully, studying the altar. “And Marvin’s plane has changed as well. It seems they are now planes of Death. Wouldn’t you agree?” He looked at Max.

  Max had no idea what to answer. The old elf likely understood it better.

  Vialon snorted and shook his head. Max noticed the first souls already passing through the doorway. They were not transparent elves but Messengers, most likely Vialon’s allies.

  For some reason, Max suspected Marvin would only notice the doorway in his plane after Vialon had already moved a significant number of Messengers, wardens, and souls away. Should he warn Marvin? On the other hand, maybe it was time for Marvin to learn from his older colleague and stop being careless.

  Then Max felt something new.

  Energy was swirling inside him.

  A large amount of residual power remained after forming the altar. The energy had flowed through him like through a conduit, but his body, following instinct, had formed magical channels to handle it, even if it could not process all of it. Only a small fraction of that power had settled within him.

  But it was enough.

  A magic core formed.

  Max had awakened magic.

  For now, the core held raw, elementless energy. Still, it existed.

  With that realization, Max vanished from the plane and reappeared in the world of the living.