Matthias sat at a banquet table, waiting for Xalt. He had placed it beyond the edge of the forest, but still within his domain, where the ordered geometry of his dungeon bled softly into untamed wilderness. The air carried the scent of loam and distant blossoms, layered beneath the rich aromas rising from the table. It was heavily laden with only the best food his dungeon could produce—roasted meats glazed to a perfect sheen, breads still warm enough to steam when torn, jewel-toned fruits arranged with deliberate care, and crystal decanters filled with wines that shimmered faintly with mana.

  When Xalt caught sight of the table, he paused, eyes narrowing. His gaze swept the clearing in a slow, methodical arc, taking in the boundary markers of the domain, the subtle mana flows threading through the ground, and finally the food itself, as if each dish might suddenly sprout fangs.

  "I swear on my soul that the food is safe to consume," Matthias offered, spreading his hands in an exaggerated show of openness.

  Xalt chuckled darkly. "You should be careful making such oaths before a necromancer," Xalt warned as he took the offered seat.

  "Can I just say that I always thought necromancy was such a cool idea," Matthias confessed, leaning back slightly. "There’s something elegantly honest about it—no pretending death isn’t part of the system. Besides, I promised the food is safe to eat. I did not say that no harm would come to you while you ate."

  "Finally ready to fully confess your otherworldly nature?" Xalt asked as he began filling his plate with generous portions of food.

  "I don't think I ever really hid it well," Matthias replied. "A failure on my part, to be sure. But everything is an adjustment. I am just trying to do the best I can with what I have."

  "And what are you trying to do?" Xalt asked as he took a small bite of steak.

  "To clean up after a war between gods," Matthias stated bluntly, his tone stripped of humor. The forest seemed to quiet at the words, birdsong fading as if the land itself were listening.

  Xalt nearly choked. Matthias passed him a drink and waited for him to recover. Xalt greedily chugged the contents, his eyes never leaving Matthias.

  "You found proof?" Xalt asked urgently once he slammed the cup back down.

  "Nefertut basically confessed to it," Matthias answered.

  "And why tell me?" Xalt asked.

  "Because if I am right, I will need to help a new god of death ascend," Matthias admitted.

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  Xalt stopped eating. He looked at Matthias dubiously.

  "The divide between the gods seems to be between those aligned with change and those aligned with stasis," Matthias continued. He gestured vaguely upward, as if indicating unseen heavens. "Some wanted eternity—static perfection, unchallenged and unshared. Others accepted that decay, rebirth, and contradiction are the price of meaning." "Some gods wanted to be eternal—to never share their power, to never contend with competition. Others realized that a world that never changes is little more than a trophy on a shelf. If nothing changes, then what are you really the god of?"

  "This sounds like a very large assumption," Xalt said carefully.

  Matthias nodded. "I spent a great deal of time breaking down celestial and infernal mana. Infernal mana feels like freedom, but it is tinged with entropy and death. Celestial mana feels like life, but it is tinged with clockwork and rigidness."

  "You were able to distill them further?" Xalt asked.

  "Not quite," Matthias admitted. "They are too solid for my current level of power—too established, too self-consistent. But chaos? Chaos is generous. It gives up its secrets if you’re patient enough to listen."

  "And where did you learn to do that?" Xalt pressed.

  "By complete accident," Matthias confessed without hesitation.

  Xalt studied him for a long moment. "Give me the real reason you are being so open," he demanded.

  "Then tell me why you have not tried to rip out my soul," Matthias countered.

  "Fair," Xalt sighed. "Because I did try—the first time we met. You did not even notice. Even then, trying to move your soul was like trying to use a ladle to move a mountain."

  "Cultivation?" Matthias asked.

  "Cultivation," Xalt confirmed.

  "As for why I want to work with you," Matthias continued, "you seem to be a scholar first and a monster second. Many would argue that you are evil to some degree—and they might even be right. But I don’t need good. I need impartial."

  "Impartial?" Xalt echoed, tossing a grape into his mouth.

  "You are your own faction," Matthias said. "To you, all souls are equal. And with what may be coming, I need that level of impartiality."

  "For what?" Xalt asked.

  "I may need to kill a god or two before this is truly done," Matthias replied calmly, as if discussing the weather. Beneath the table, the mana threads tightened, betraying just how much weight those words carried.

  Xalt's eyes widened once more. "You know how to kill a god?"

  "In theory," Matthias said. "It was a common enough story in my world. I will prepare a few methods."

  "What kind of methods?" Xalt asked.

  "Not entirely sure yet," Matthias admitted. "All the things in my world that could wound a god were considered Legendary. I cannot make them yet. Gods are also not faith-based in this world, so I cannot cut them off from their power base."

  "That seems rather brutal," Xalt teased.

  "Brutal?" Matthias asked sharply. A flicker of something old and tired crossed his face—anger, yes, but also grief. "We are talking about beings that were entrusted with reality itself." "We are talking about beings that are supposed to be living avatars of the concepts that make up reality—beings that betrayed their duty for personal gain, beings that are letting the world rot. They are not gods in my mind. They are a festering wound tearing this world apart."

  "And why do you believe that so vehemently?" Xalt asked.

  "Because I am going to tell you how things functioned in my world," Matthias said. "A world with no mana. A world with only a single race. A world where we bent reality to our will to make our lives both easier and horrific. And when I am done, maybe you will understand why this barren rock you call home offends me so."