It was more than a Black door. It seemed to absorb all light. Just like the steel wall blocking the Halls from the outside, this door had no handle. It was not meant to be opened.

  Ever.

  ‘Sedall, return to your body. We will have to destroy the ring to begin the ritual and even with Alaster’s power, it is not enough. The door will require you to push from the inside.’ Belgroth instructed, the earlier conversation forgotten, or at least pushed to the side for the time being.

  ‘Pushing in what way? And you do realize that the ring contains a portion of my soul, right?’

  ‘Yes, I know. It will hurt, and you will be weaker for a few months, maybe a year or two, get over it. And I mean push it, literally.’ Belgroth explained without emotion.

  ‘Ok.’ Sedall said hesitantly, but Alaster could feel him leaving his mind, an unfamiliar sensation as Sedall spent all his time watching through Alaster’s eyes.

  ‘Now that we are alone, I must ask you something.’ Belgroth said in a manner that rose Alaster’s guard.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sedall is a powerful Demigod, the strongest according to himself. If he turned against you, sided with the rest of them against your sister, even with my knowledge, there is nothing you could do. Are you sure you want to release him?’

  Alaster smirked, finally feeling as if he knew something the Ancient Demon did not.

  ‘Sedall swore an oath on his Mana Root. So long as I release him, he will not act against any me or my loved ones.’

  ‘That does not mean he will help you.’

  ‘No, but I choose to believe he will.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The same reason I don’t believe you will help your own People to exterminate Humanity. You are both honorable men. You will not harm those who have aided you. Nor will you allow harm to fall upon them if you can stop it.’

  Belgroth fell silent.

  ‘Take off the Sedall’s ring and press it against the door.’

  Alaster chose to ignore Belgroth’s changing of the subject and do as he was told.

  ‘Repeat after me while pouring as much Mana as you can into the door, and I mean all of it.’

  Alaster did as he was told. The words felt foreign, but more than that, they felt wrong. With each word, that feeling of wrongness intensified, as if the very fabric of reality was rejecting each word. He had to fight against his own body to continue speaking.

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  More and more Mana was withdrawn from the various Undead Alaster had raised around the Continent. More and more, called from his Mana Pool. Mana in such quantities that it became visible to the naked eye as it traveled from his chest, spiraled down his extended arm, and soaked into the black door.

  Yet it was only after Alaster had infused Mana enough to flatten a city with pure force of Mana, that a single Golden Rune appeared on the black door above the door.

  With more Mana, another Rune appeared.

  Then another. And another.

  Rings upon rings of Runes appeared, centered on the Ring.

  ‘Let go.’

  Alaster obeyed immediately, yet the Ring did not fall, instead held there by the countless strings of Mana that sprouted from the door. This Mana was no longer his own. It did not have the sickly green that Alaster recognized as his own. Instead, each strand was a brilliant Gold of the Runes.

  The strands gave off such brilliant light that they overshadowed the small flame in Alaster’s hand, not that he needed it since he could see in the dark, though some details would have been missed.

  Slowly, the strands turned the Ring, as if examining it. Seemingly satisfying, the strands pulled the Ring towards the black door, but instead of touching the black material, the Ring instead sunk into it, as if it was oil.

  ‘Step back and to the side.’

  Alaster did so, and not a moment too soon.

  The door shattered and a blur flew past, too fast for even Alaster to get a good look.

  Alaster did not hesitate to chase after it.

  In just a few minutes, Alaster was back outside, standing atop his platform of bone.

  A lone figure, dressed in once elegant clothes that would not be out of place in a ballroom but now nothing more than rags, stood still midair, several feet away from the Mountain side.

  He faced away from Alaster, staring out at the distant forests, mountains, and rivers, the blizzard now gone without a trace.

  The man stared at the scenery, a million different thoughts hitting him all at once. A million different emotions. A million different sights he never thought he would see again. A million different sounds he never realized he so desperately missed. Yet it was the million different scents that hit him the hardest.

  One scent in particular.

  The man closed his eyes, feeling the wind against his skin. Miles away, he heard the joyful yelps of a litter of Lightning Wolf puppies. He saw a Wyvern peacefully sleeping on the distant mountain peak. In just a single moment, he knew everything that was happening in the fifty miles around himself.

  Yet, a single scent was most prominent among all other happenings.

  The scent of pine needles.

  A scent he clung to for the memories they brought. Memories he had thought himself to have forgotten centuries ago.

  Sedall turned around, still floating in the air. Tears streamed down from his face as he spoke.

  “Thank you. Alaster, thank you.”

  * * * * *

  Around the world, sensitive and powerful people were shaken out of their activities, sitting up straight from their slumber, standing straight despite the delicate devises they were tinkering with, shaken out of their meditations.

  Their eyes wide, all turning in the same direction.

  The direction of the pulse. A pulse so strong, they could feel it in the very ground beneath their feet, even hundreds of miles away.

  Sensitive Experts feared for what such a force meant. Masters worried if this was a warning of some threat.

  The Demigods froze among their various tasks, turning in the direction of the pulse. None but one had known what the pulse meant, but each one knew who had caused it.

  Some smiled. Some grew excited. Some shook. Some worried.

  But one, the eldest of the Demigods, felt his heart beat wildly, pounding in his chest. Something he had thought to have perfectly mastered eons past, his body, shook wildly, struggling not to flee.

  But there was nowhere to flee to.

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