When Death Walked the World

Chapter 46 - Unfinished Business

,,Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the gods that were can tell. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctified temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacuum above the spheres of light and darkness. And through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlothotep. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished, for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare." — H.P. Lovecraft

(...)

The Black Man, the Avatar of the Crawling Chaos writhed in the wind, standing above a ruin.

This place was once a tomb home to monsters. They were quite the challenge to break, however they too perished with time. A creepy smile sliced itself onto the humanoid face as the avatar recalled the joyous moments.

That demon... Demiurge, was it? Nyarlathotep mused, no matter the number of mysteries, and secrets of the cosmos he had divulged to the archdevil, the little fiend took it, and made it his own. Normally, humans, devils, gods... it mattered not who received his inconceivable knowledge they'd break down, and go mad, but not this devil...

He had actually forced the Crawling Chaos to change tactics.

Nyarlathotep then let loose his cosmic powers and molded this world in his image. After that it was only a matter of time... The denizens of this world went crazy and killed themselves soon after, it was a pity. He would've much rather enjoyed seeing them squirm in their despair and madness.

Although...

Those who hid behind the walls of the Underground Tomb had managed to keep their sanity. He recalled the thrill he felt back then, finally a challenge! He thought.

He called forth lesser terrors from the abyss, and they came... they came and made this planet their home. It wasn't long until they discovered the tomb and sieged it. OHHHHHHHHHHH! The thrill of breaking them at last! The exhilaration at the sight of despair! The Black Man mused. It truly was the most precious treasure within creation.

A frown manifested on his crude visage.

The cause was simple. At the end he was forced to act himself. The lesser terrors could not overwhelm the defenses of the tomb, they could not conquer the 8th floor. Calling greater terrors was out of the question, the Opener of the Way would not allow that... however, he had full discretion to act on his own, at least for a little while.

The Avatar demolished the defenses on the 8th floor himself, and later he would have to act once more to break into a separate dimension, the last place the trapped could fall back to.

He felt frustrated, but in the end, it was all worth it. As always, he had gotten his due.

Now, a new presence made itself known within the Underground Tomb, and he was here for a little more fun, surely the newcomer could provide that, he had felt it... back then when he was still roaming the Earth, something new was born, something that could rival Eldritch Terrors, something that waited for the breaking. And HE would be glad to oblige.

He would observe for a little longer, then he would make his move, and paint the world bleak with despair once and forever more.

(...)

Ainz Ooal Gown sat upon the {Throne of Kings}, hollow eye sockets staring at a place faraway.

Bone fingers tapped impatiently on the armrest of the blackened crystal throne, while a golden scepter floated idly by the seat. The true guild weapon, a relic of the past. Souls wailed in torment upon its magnificent top, while seven golden serpents held a tight hold on the shaft.

The Overlord waited and waited for a positive answer, however no intel relayed by his summons was encouraging. They were yet to find life, any life. He had cast several scans and detection spells, but something cloaked this planet, he could not get a reading. This only served to further unnerve the ancient undead. The wisps of pale flames crackled intensely, tinged in yellowish green they hungrily licked the evil skull. The black halo gently throbbed above the elongated skull, soothing the Lord.

The attention of the Overlord was piqued, and the orbs strayed to the screeching noise.

The entrance of the throne room was leisurely pushed open, several black tentacles forcing the massive double doors aside. The angel on the right, and the demon depicted on the left seemed to cry in anguish as the slimy feelers forced the doors to crumble underneath its mighty hold.

Dark mist rolled into the vast chamber, along with a family of tentacles that carried a hooded man.

The skeletal hands clenched into fists, and a dark aura rose around the {Throne of Kings}. The emotional suppressor was broken already, now it was wholly gone. Ainz had long since reached and surpassed the limits set by his Undead nature, he was now something else, something more.

Around the neck of the hooded man a talisman hung, and upon it an indecipherable sign.

Ainz remained seated, his aura swelling to new heights as he watched the eldritch terror leisurely make his way to the feet of his throne. There the hooded abomination halted and looked up at the Overlord seated upon the {Throne of Kings}. The family of tentacles wriggled underneath the yellow cape as both beings waited silently for the other to initiate.

Ultimately, Ainz broke the silence. "The Yellow King... to what do I owe this honor?!" He practically spat those few words, leveling an even gaze that unnerved the timeless existence.

Hastur gave a shallow bow, "Lord Gown, I see you are well." As those words left his mouth the temperature dropped several dozen degrees in the room, and the pressure multiplied to a point where the Unspeakable One could feel his feelers quiver, and search refuge underneath his cape.

"What. Do. You. Want?!"

Hastur felt that his next words may launch the Overlord into a frenzy, and as such he was careful with his words. "I merely wish to seek your aid." He answered.

"Oh?" The hardness of the death stare lessened. "HA-HAH-AH-AH-AH!" Amused, Ainz continued. "Last time you parted with a backstab, you have to be crazy to believe that I would help you!"

The Yellow King remained silent, contemplating the Overlord's words. Finally, after an eternity of silence he spoke up. "Because there's something in it for you too."

"Well, do tell. Let's hear it before I utterly crush you." Ainz ordered, play time was over. The aura around him condensed and began charging twelve balls of light around the Overlord.

"This world..." Hastur began, "I know who corrupted it."

(...)

Somewhere else deep beneath the earth where the Sun could not reach, where the temperature was hot beyond measure, where rivers of molten magma flowed freely, a gigantic form was illuminated under the dim lights of the sizzling rock.

Massive slit eyes opened listlessly, the platinum pupils focusing under the blurry atmosphere.

They stared for a long while at the shadow that remained in the end of the room, before it finally disappeared, and the Ancient Dragon Lord, last of her kind went back to sleep. Meanwhile, Ainz Ooal Gown had made a deal once more with the Yellow King and received the first positive report.