The Knight was dust, but the stain on reality remained.

  I stood on the precipice of Floor 40 in Nexus Delta-33. The environment had shifted from the bone-city exterior to an interior that resembled a massive, spiraling catacomb. Gravity here was subjective; the “floor” was whichever wall you happened to be standing on, allowing for a disorienting, Escher-like ascent through mausoleums suspended in a green, suffocating void.

  “Jeeves, what's the miasma saturation outside?” I asked, sidestepping a spectral trap that tried to age my left boot into dust.

  “Approaching critical levels, Master,” Jeeves reported, the sound of Leoric frantically working faint in the background of the link. “The City of Bones is acting as a bellows. Every pulse of the Tower pumps a heavy necro-particulate fog into the surrounding ten-mile radius. It is overriding the natural mana cycle. If this continues for another week, the land will be permanently scarred. Nothing biological will grow there again without Tier 7 restoration magic.”

  “He’s terraforming,” I muttered, driving my fist into a Bone-Golem blocking the stairway to Floor 41. It shattered under a focused gravity impact. “He’s not just holding territory; he's prepping the soil for something else. We need to find out if it’s a thing contained to the surrounding area or if it is for a larger project.”

  I reached Floor 42.

  The layout was a wide, circular chamber centered around a pulsating, fleshy heart the size of a van, suspended in chains. It was the Core Node for the lower stratospheres of the Tower.

  I placed my hand on it. It recoiled, the necrotic flesh sensing the burning white-gold purity of my Sovereign mana.

  [Record Beaten.]

  [Previous Tower Holder: Azrael (The Pale Dominion).]

  [New Authority Recognized: Eren (Void Star).]

  I didn’t just claim the checkpoint; I pushed my Will into the architecture.

  I had to override and change protocols Azrael had engaged, reverting it back to the usual effects I had instructed in previous Towers.

  The effect was instantaneous and violent.

  The Tower shuddered. A deep, tectonic groan reverberated through the basalt walls. The green vein-light that illuminated the catacombs flickered, turned a harsh, antiseptic blue, and then flared white.

  “Master!” Leoric’s voice broke in, frantic and loud. “The atmospheric readings just inverted! The Tower stopped exhaling! It’s… it’s inhaling!”

  “Yeah, I overrode the protocols Azrael set up, but can elaborate on what it exactly means,” I said, watching the fleshy heart in the Floor's center calcify and turn into a diamond-hard crystal pump, releasing waves of invigorating Essence.

  “It’s an Authority Shift,” Leoric stammered, clearly looking at seventeen monitors at once. “The Tower obeys the highest registered claimant. When you beat Azrael’s floor record, the Tower recognized your Will as the local law. It switched from emitting Necrotic Miasma to generating a Purifying Mana Field to match your signature!”

  “So not only does it improve the mana and essence quality after we claim the tower. It’s also a giant air filter,” I realized. “We need to do some more experimentation and figure out what exactly is possible with these Towers.”

  I could feel it even inside. The oppressiveness lifted. The sticky, oily sensation of death mana was being scrubbed away, replaced by the sharp, ozone scent of high-density neutral mana.

  “Wait a bit,” I ordered. “I’m clearing it to 50 like the others just to be safe. But get a team ready. I want this region studied. We need to know the effects of this miasma and how the tower is countering it.”

  I finished the climb to Floor 50 in a blur of motion. The resistance seemed to evaporate as I rushed through them.

  When I exited, the bone pavement outside was already crumbling. The green fog was gone, replaced by a sparkling, crystalline rain — precipitated mana falling from the spire.

  I didn’t leave immediately. I activated [Echo of the Ashen Sovereign], this time summoning a basic variant since its purpose was more limited.

  My mana poured out, solidifying into a perfect duplicate of myself clad in lighter, scout-variant armor.

  “You stay here,” I told the Echo. “Monitor the cleanup. Protect Leoric and Jeeves when they arrive. Follow Leoric’s instructions on what to do with the Tower and experiment with the possible advantages and effects it grants.”

  The Echo nodded silently, taking a seated position outside the Tower’s gate.

  I returned to the Sanctum.

  “Kasian,” I called out as I materialized in the main hall. “We need to talk about this undead empire.”

  The Sanctum’s library was dim, illuminated only by the floating glyphs of the Records that Kasian hovered over. The spectral form of the librarian looked… disturbed. His usual calm, scholarly demeanor was ruffled, his translucent robes rippling in a phantom wind.

  “The Umbral Synod,” Kasian said without preamble. “I have attempted to query the term within the Greater Records.”

  “And?”

  “And the Records fought back,” Kasian whispered.

  He waved a hand. A holographic projection filled the air. It wasn't a map; it was a document. A contract, endless and complex, written in a language that hurt the eyes to look at.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “They are not a horde,” Kasian explained, pointing to the scrolling text. “They are more akin to a massive Corporation. An Administration. A Bureaucracy of Silence.”

  “Azrael mentioned contracts,” I recalled. “Planetary Phylacteries.”

  “It is their primary method of expansion,” Kasian said, expanding the view to show a galaxy cluster far to the galactic west. “The Synod approaches civilizations at their breaking point. Worlds facing supernova, plague, or famine. They offer the ‘Silence.’ It is a pact. The civilization agrees to undergo the Transition. The Synod constructs a global barrier that halts biological time.”

  “They freeze the world,” I murmured.

  “They harvest it, similar to Kyorian methods but more integrated,” Kasian corrected. “The living are converted into specialized undead castes. Workers, Soldiers, Scholars. Their souls are bound to the Cemetery Gate — a massive, inter-stellar network similar to the Spire system, but powered by the recycled Essence of trillions. Only the Undead has access and the cost is great, almost impossible at great distances.”

  “Trillions,” I repeated. “How efficient of a teleportation network are we talking?”

  “They control three Clusters: The Necrosis, Silent Reach, and the Bone-Stars. Their standing number of Cemetery Gates is in the hundreds of thousands. Their resource stockpile is… incalculable. They also have incredibly powerful cultivators and Lineages dating back to ancient eras.”

  I looked at the map. The red stain of the Synod covered a terrifying amount of space.

  “However,” Kasian swiped the map to the right. “They are currently engaged here. The Sagitta Arm. They are fighting a biological super-organism — a Tyranid-class threat. A war of attrition that has lasted two thousand years. And the closest Gate they control is around here.”

  The region he had pointed to where the Undead's closest Gate existed was relatively distant, farther away than the Kyorian stronghold itself.

  “So Azrael is a side-project,” I concluded. “A freelancer.”

  “Precisely. A prospector sent to secure a new remote outpost. If he succeeds, he gets a promotion and resources. If he fails… the Synod barely notices the loss of a single Convert.”

  “Good,” I exhaled, feeling a tension knot loosen in my chest. “We aren’t fighting the ocean; we’re fighting a small leak. But we need to patch it before the dam breaks.”

  “There is one more thing,” Kasian warned. He pointed to a blacked-out section of the Record. "When I tried to probe their leadership structure — the ‘Black Crown’ — the record was obscured. High-Tier anti-divination shielding. At least Tier 11. There is an entity backing Azrael… and it is aware of us. Or at least, aware that someone is looking.”

  “Just what we needed, more Godly trouble,” I said, turning to the tactical map. “They are very far though, and you mentioned the cost is almost impossible at great distances. Let’s just hope they figure the cost isn’t worth the trip. But, we will still need to set up more observation infrastructure and contingencies in case…”

  I pointed to the three other towers marked with the Pale Dominion’s sigil.

  “The moment I defeated his Anima, he gave up these three too easily. He didn’t fight for them. He pulled his Elite Knights back to Delta-31. Why?”

  “Consolidation?” Lucas suggested over the comms, joining the feed.

  “Or he’s building something,” Nyx countered.

  “Let’s find out,” I said. “Prepare the jump coordinates. I’m cleaning house. Can’t have any more of these towers spreading more of that miasma stuff around.”

  The next three hours were hauntingly quiet.

  I assaulted Nexus Delta-12, expecting zombies in the swamps. I found empty villages and rotting idols, but the animate defenders were gone. The Tower was on autopilot. I smashed the records, cleared to Floor 50, and let the purification field burn away the rot.

  Nexus Delta-19 was the same. A city of ossuaries, completely abandoned. Not even a skeleton scout.

  Nexus Delta-41, the Silent Keep, was an actual fortress. The walls were manned by suits of armor… that were empty. It was a pantomime of defense.

  “He’s withdrawn everything,” I said, standing on the pinnacle of Delta-41. “He stripped the mana, the minions, the resources. He funneled it all to one point.”

  I looked at the final black dot on the map.

  Nexus Delta-31. The Bone Fortress.

  “Jeeves, what are the readings on Delta-31?”

  “Anomalous,” Jeeves replied, and for the first time, his synthesized voice sounded unsure. “The Spire sensors cannot penetrate the city limits. There is a distortion field. It resembles… a bruise on reality. High concentration of spatial tearing mixed with dense necrotic particulate.”

  “A rift?”

  "Or a summon," Jeeves suggested darkly. “Azrael isn’t just fortifying, Master. He’s calling for help.”

  I refilled my mana cores. I checked the charge on the [Abyssal Sovereign’s Carapace] then verified that my Void-Bracelet was ready for another meal.

  “Let’s end this,” I said.

  I triggered the [Void Walk], locking onto the outskirts of Delta-31.

  I didn’t materialize in the city. I appeared on a ridge overlooking it, about thirty miles out.

  And immediately, my knees nearly buckled.

  It wasn’t a physical weight. It was a psychic scream.

  The landscape below didn’t look like Earth. The sky over Delta-31 was a swirling vortex of purple and black clouds, moving in unnatural time-lapse speed. The city itself wasn’t just built of bone anymore; it was coated in a glistening, viscous black sludge that dripped upwards, defying gravity to flow toward the spire.

  The Tower itself was gone. Or rather, it was encased.

  A massive, beating cocoon of shadow and bone had swallowed the structure.

  But it was the [Void Perception] that stopped me cold.

  Usually, my senses mapped mana as lines, flows, or structures.

  This… this felt like looking at a hole in the world.

  A distinct, oily sensation of Hunger — different from my own — wafted from the cocoon. It felt ancient. It felt greedy. And it felt like it was waiting.

  My own instinct screamed.

  I took a step back, my heart hammering a warning rhythm against my ribs.

  “He didn’t just withdraw,” I whispered to the empty air, the realization chilling my blood. “He fed them. He fed his entire army, his resources, his territory… he fed it all to summon that thing.”

  “Master?” Jeeves prompted. “Do you require support? Shall I send a request for Rexxar, Zareth and Nyx to join you?”

  “No,” I said, forcing my breathing to steady. “But I’m not walking in there. My instincts are warning me of whatever he is doing. I’m going to be using my Glimpse. Be ready for instruction and stay on high alert, this thing isn’t a joke.”

  The urge to rush in and smash it before he could finish the ritual was strong, but I fought against it.

  I sat down on the ridge, activating my [Veil] to its maximum density, vanishing from all physical and magical spectrums.

  “There’s a powerful presence being called, enough to be a huge threat,” I surmised. “I can sense it through the Void. There's a trigger on the door that will activate something."

  I closed my eyes. I focused past the star-cores orbiting my heart into my Soul and pulled on the thread of potentiality.

  “Okay, Azrael,” I whispered. “Show me what you got in store for us.”

  [Glimpse of a Path.]

  The world of the simulation washed over me.

  In the vision, I stood up. And I charged down the hill into the nightmare city, ready to experience whatever the Undead Ambassador had in store.