?The waddling horde returned to the Obsidian Kingdom under a sky heavy with the flow of black sand. The obsidian castle had been hastily reconstructed by Agent X’s sheer will, its jagged spires piercing the twilight like needles. However, the ground where the nearest hatchery once stood remained a flat, vitrified scar of black glass—a temporary monument to the Godkin’s final stand.

  ?Agent X stood upon the highest balcony, his purple eyes scanning the horizon. He watched as the thousands of thralls filed into the kingdom, each one cradling an obsidian orb against its crystalline chest.

  "The harvest of the elves is complete," he whispered.

  ?He directed the horde to one of the remaining hatcheries. The elven orbs were piled into the massive chamber like coal into a furnace. At the very center of the pile, on a raised pedestal of sand, Agent X placed the three larger orbs left behind by the Incarnates.

  ?Agent X descended into the chamber. He raised his hands, and the royal purple fire from his vents didn't just blast out; it flowed like liquid, filling the hatchery until the orbs were submerged in a lake of demonic fire.

  Usually, the orbs would absorb the purple hue and hatch into standard thralls. But as the energy touched the three central orbs, the laws of his creation didn't follow suit. The orbs didn't just take his power—they filtered it, twisting his purple fire back into the elemental frequencies of the souls that had occupied them. The residual power left behind by the fallen heroes was so potent that the newborns inherited their elemental essence directly.

  The hatchery floor began to tremble.

  ?The first Great Orb shattered with the resonance of a cathedral bell. Emerging from the shards was a two-foot-tall thrall made not of solid obsidian, but of thousands of fragments of stained glass. It looked like a living church window, its body depicting scenes of a forgotten light. The glass, however, was sturdier than most metals. Inside its translucent chest, a flickering holy white light served as its heart, casting colorful shadows across the dark floor. It stood with a heavy, unyielding posture, the first of its kind. An elite in its own class.

  ?The second orb exploded upward in a spray of jade dust. Out crawled a creature of pure emerald. It was a jointless golem that seemed to vibrate with kinetic energy. Its back was hunched, and from its shoulders sprouted two jagged, emerald wings that hummed like a hornet’s nest. Emerald green energy coursed through its limbs, and its eyes were twin sparks of wind-blown swirls. It let out a shriek that rattled the hatchery walls.

  ?The final orb didn't break; it succumbed to a deep, internal freeze. The shell cracked open to reveal a thrall made of cracked permafrost. It looked like a shard of a glacier that had been dragged through the mud, dark and ancient. Instead of fire, its cracks leaked a dark blue glowing energy that froze the air around it. Every step it took left a trail of frost on the obsidian floor.

  ?Agent X stepped forward, his curiosity piqued. These were Stage One newborns, yet they radiated a presence far beyond their size. Agent X looked at the stained glass thrall. It had clearly inherited Maximus’s power. A name befitting its donor sounded necessary. The demon put his hand to his chin as he thought. After a moment, his hand pointed up before speaking to the stained glass golem. "I shall name you Minimal, The Prismatic Blight. I expect great things from my first blight."

  ?His attention then switched to the emerald gargoyle-looking thrall, its green energy radiating out from the cracks in its form. Its power was that of Tempest's. Agent X didn't have to think too long about this one's name. "You'll be known as Hurricane from now on. My Blight of the Winds."

  ?Lastly, his eyes set on the golem made of dark permafrost, obviously the one made from Aurora. Again, the name seemed easy for Agent X. "You'll be known as Glacier, The Frozen Blight." Agent X was pleased with these three new additions to his army. Since they were a variation, they should grow quicker and even stronger than the rest.

  ?"Minimal... Hurricane... Glacier," Agent X said, his voice echoing in the chamber. The three newborns turned their heads in unison, bowing with a mechanical precision.

  "You are my blights," the demon continued. "The strongest of this world are dead, and you are the fruit of their failure. I give you this world as your playground."

  ?He gestured to the vast, empty wastes beyond his kingdom. "Take a thousand thralls each. Go forth and claim the lands that match your nature. The forests, the peaks, the frozen wastes. Anywhere you desire to conquer."

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  The three elites looked at him, their elemental cores pulsing in silent acknowledgment.

  ?"But remember your creator," Agent X’s voice turned cold and greedy. "As you conquer, find the mountains. Hollow them out. Stuff them full of the carcasses of the beasts and natives you slay. I need this to grow even stronger. Do this, grow strong, and your rewards will be your own legion and your own territory. A day will come when I will test you. Do not grow lazy, and if you ever feel like you can take my throne, you know where to find it."

  ?Without a word, the three blighted newborns turned. Minimal led a small horde of thralls toward the western horizon; Hurricane took to the eastern skies, lifting a swarm of golems behind him; and Glacier headed north with his personal horde, a trail of ice following in his wake.

  Agent X stood with what remained of his obsidian horde in the center of his kingdom, watching his blights spread like ink in water.

  ?Months passed.

  Minimal led his horde into the Great Searing Desert. His stained-glass body caught the desert sun, refracting it into a kaleidoscope of predatory colors. They reached an oasis settlement built of sandstone and mud-brick. As the guards' arrows clinked harmlessly off his glass hide, Minimal walked to the center of the town and slammed his fist into the earth. A pulse of holy white light erupted, converting the very silicate of the sand.

  ?Minimal looked at the obsidian thralls waddling behind him, their clumsy forms ill-suited for the elegant glass cathedral he was building. Sensing their weakness, he began focusing his energy, flooding a thrall's core with holy energy. At first, it seemed the thrall would perish, but instead, it changed. Bit by bit, the obsidian was dissolved and replaced by stained glass with a new core of light. It wasn't as big as Minimal, but now it shared his powers. This was the start of his Refracted Family.

  ?In the east, Hurricane claimed the Triple Peaks. He intercepted the Great Griffin commanders in mid-air, sending blades of wind through their necks before they could shriek. Hurricane commanded his horde to bury the griffins in the peak before constructing their new home. On the highest summit, his thralls forged a black obsidian temple. Looking at the waddling golems, Hurricane realized they could never follow him into the sky. He reached out his arm toward the nearest thrall, flooding its core with emerald wind energy. The obsidian transformed, sprouting the same jagged wings as its leader. The first of the Gale Born was made.

  ?To the north, Glacier moved through the tundra like a slow-moving disaster. He absorbed the blizzards of the Ice Mages, walking through their walls as if they were mist. Glacier and his horde quickly dealt with the frozen settlement. Amidst the silence of the snow, a sense of loneliness grew within the frozen elite. He was a shard of ice in a sea of black stone. Seeking companionship in his own image, Glacier began to convert his horde. The Frost Walkers' numbers increased that day, their frozen bodies blending into the white waste.

  ?Agent X finished the last of his reconstruction. His castle was restored, and the hatcheries were replaced by several specialized structures.

  "It’s been a few months," Agent X mused. "Time to check on the harvest."

  ?With a violent jerk, the demon’s body burst into sand. He drifted west, arriving at Minimal's colony. He was stunned to find the obsidian thralls had been converted.

  "You're not Minimal. Who are you?" he asked a passing golem, looking for his specific elite. Minimal emerged shortly after to explain the conversion process and the name for his Refracted Family. Agent X, satisfied, "blooded" the pit to claim the accumulated tribute and set off for the other colonies.

  ?In the north, he nearly flew into Glacier’s buildings before realizing the entire village was camouflaged. In the east, he climbed the mountain to Hurricane’s jade-accented pagoda. In every location, the result was the same: the Blights had evolved their thralls into respective sub-families and filled the mountains with tribute.

  Returning to his castle, Xander felt a sense of completion. This realm was now ready to be claimed as his home world.

  ?"Cosmo, I’m ready to leave."

  System Prompt: Leave situation?

  Xander confirmed. The world faded to white.

  ?He awoke in the lobby in his human body. The mechanical voice of the Cosmo began to rattle off his spoils.

  Stats boosted by one thousand each.

  War God Ares’ Blessing achieved: plus one percent to all stats.

  God of Death Thanatos’ Blessing achieved: plus one percent to all stats per personal kill.

  ?Xander’s eyes widened. Between the human and elven kingdoms, his kill count was astronomical. The next question Cosmo asked was the one Xander had been most excited to hear.

  "World is able to be claimed as home world. Would you like to set previous world as your home world?"

  A smile spread across Xander's face. In a flash, a memory surfaced—an entire world made of obsidian, converted over thousands of years. He silently vowed nothing would take this new home world from him. Not even Cosmo. Xander finally claimed his new world before leaving the lobby.

  ?The transition back to the mundane reality of Earth was jarring. As Xander collapsed onto his bed, the soft mattress felt unnervingly alien compared to the jagged obsidian throne he had claimed. The silence of his room, once comforting, now felt hollow without the rhythmic thrum of the hatchery. He stared at his human hands, flexing them, half-expecting purple fire to vent from his palms, but only stillness met him.

  ?His mind drifted back to the Refracted, the Gale Born, and the Frost Walkers. They were more than just minions now; they were an extension of his own expanding divinity. He had left them as kings of their respective domains, tasked with an eternal harvest. The sheer scale of his success hummed in his veins—a cold, calculated triumph.

  ?Yet, amidst the strategic calculations, the image of Dawn persisted. She was a loose thread in his otherwise perfect tapestry of conquest. Xander closed his eyes, his breathing slowing. Whether she was an ally to be cherished or a variable to be managed, he would find out soon enough.