Malaraxia sighed as her mind wandered down a tangent. She had thought that godhood would render her mind into a razor, capable of solving any problem, but the opposite was true. Without stimulation, a god’s mind was so powerful that it subconsciously sought out ways to exercise itself. She could simulate entire worlds within her mind to a perfect fidelity, which was a way to while away the millenia.
As she sat in silent contemplation, she remembered something that had gone forgotten for a while. A way, potentially, to deal with Jonathan on her own. Every million years or so, the great beings of the universe met to exchange pleasantries, or in many cases, insults. It was a place where deals could be made, deals with far reaching consequences across the entirety of Telvaria. Angranor rarely showed up, but perhaps with such a problematic entity within the bounds of his own realm, he would.
The conclave was supposed to begin in around a thousand years, but it could always start early with a majority vote. Malaraxia had a suspicion that garnering such a vote would be easy enough.
She got up from her meditation, and reached out across the universe, calling to her brethren. Then she teleported to the designated meeting place, a sub-pocket of the Astral Plane, safely removed from everything else. There were thirteen thrones there, representing the thirteen Tier 100s alive. Or Malaraxia supposed, the twelve. Sarnakthros’ throne was still there, but he was unable to sit on it. Other than the gods, there was Angranor, ruler of the Hells, the Twins, sovereigns of the Outer Realms and Al’obthrys, an interdimensional being that had made its home in Telvaria, ostensibly to escape persecution from other forces.
Each throne matched the aspects of the gods that owned them. Malaraxia’s was a miniature model of her throne back in Maelstrom Keep.
One by one, other gods appeared, sitting on their own thrones. Malaraxia leaned forward, steepling her fingers. These conclaves often took a while, as gods operated at timescales that did not often translate to those of mortals. Still, they were almost always productive.
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Greater Circle of Sloth
Jonathan and Eliza wandered through the Swarmlands for the next few days. Even with the map, it was very hard to plot a course.
At times, Jonathan felt like he was going in circles, with the veils of insects surrounding his vision. The tiny monsters were only a nuisance because of how many of them there were. Even with Aegis of the Void;s Dichotomy to clear them away, there were just so many that the effort was ultimately futile.
Eventually, the patches of bugs began to thin as they approached the center of the Swarmlands, which was marked on the map as being a long corridor, with the Harvest King dwelling in the center. While it was risky to go so close to the powerful undead, it was riskier to travel through the clouds of insects, without any reference points. The ground was purposefully razed, creating a maze for those who dared to enter the Harvest King’s domain.
As they emerged into the light for the first time in days, Jonathan and Eliza found themselves standing on an ancient, cracked road. For about a thousand miles, a long path wound through the Swarmlands, with a massive castle in the center. It was old, and mostly derelict. Pieces of crumbling stone could be seen even from such a distance, as the entire edifice was immense. It was easily a mile tall, and three times that in width.
“How big is this Harvest King?” Eliza asked fearfully.
Jonathan shrugged. “We’re not going to be fighting it, hopefully, so it doesn’t really matter. The map doesn’t say anything about it save for its basic nature.”
“I suppose nobody comes around these parts,” Eliza replied, nodding. “There’s no skeletons, which I would have expected from a place like this. No undead either.”
“That is strange. Usually powerful undead surround themselves with lesser ones. I’m not sure why that isn’t the case here.”
Then Jonathan saw why. Surrounding the castle was a patch of farmland as large as a city, tilled fields planted not with crops, but with bodies. Even Jonathan couldn’t make out any distinct shapes beyond that of torsos at that distance, but those shapes were unmistakable. Every now and again, one of the blobby corpses would rise from the earth and explode into a tiny flame of emerald flame, before drifting off to the castle.
Jonathan’s lip curled. “It’s farming the dead, and consuming their power…”
“Really? I can’t make out anything over there. It would explain everything, though.”
“It would.” Jonathan started forward. “Waiting isn’t going to change anything. Let’s get on our way.”
