Atticus shook his head lightly and moved forward. Anorah, Ozeroth, and the other Eldorians had remained behind, helping return the soldiers and tend to the wounded, leaving only him and Whisker to step into enemy land.

The moment he crossed the boundary, a strange sense of weightlessness washed over him.

Atticus stared down the vast pathway stretching ahead, its end swallowed by a blurred point of light, and continued forward until he passed through it.

The world beyond was dark and oppressive. A pitch black landscape stretched endlessly beneath thick, unmoving clouds that smothered the sky, plunging the horizon into perpetual gloom.

Faint silhouettes of distant structures rose in the far distance, but his attention was quickly claimed by what lay before them.

Millions of armored soldiers spread across the land, their gazes locked onto Atticus and Whisker with open hostility.

A voice rumbled across the world the next moment.

"The territory god has been slain. The new god of this territory is now Atticus Ravenstein."

Whisker let out a low whistle, eyes sweeping over the endless ranks.

"What are the chances they're here to welcome us?"

Atticus glanced at him briefly, but before he could respond, a roar erupted from the frontlines of the abyss army.

"Arms ready! Prepare to attack!"

The massive abyss warrior at their head stepped forward, piercing Atticus with a fierce, unyielding stare.

"You may have killed our god, but the abyss army will stand strong! We will never giv—"

Atticus calmly unsheathed his katana, then slid it back into its sheath.

Moments later, the army split apart in countless pieces, bodies severed cleanly as blood and gore rained across the land.

"Yikes." Whisker winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "The least you could've done was let him finish his speech. You're in a mood."

Atticus didn't answer. Instead, he vanished.

He reappeared across the territory in rapid blips, moving from settlement to settlement, city to city, killing every man and woman in whom he sensed even the faintest trace of abyss will. There was no hesitation, no excess force, only death.

When it was done, he hovered high above the territory, his expression calm and distant, as though he were merely walking through a quiet forest.

"My name is Atticus Ravenstein."

His voice rolled across the land, freezing every movement.

"As you have heard, your god is dead, and I am now the god of this territory. I have killed every wielder of abyss will within it, and the fact that you still live means you do not wield it and are not a threat to my world."

He paused for a moment.

"There will be only one change to your lives, complete, and utter obedience. You will follow my every order, and that of my people, without resistance. Any defiance will be met with death."

Whisker appeared beside him in a burst of light, staring at Atticus with wide, weary eyes as he slowly shook his head.

"Planes…" he muttered. "I've missed you… so much."

…

The next events were simple. With the opposition crushed, Atticus became the new god of the territory, and the Eldorians swarmed the land. Under Oberon's command, they took control of every part of it in moments.

Atticus could only assume they'd had ample practice, considering past events. Excusing himself from the others, he appeared in an isolated corner of the new world, his gaze settling on the cocoon that appeared before him.

"I find it odd you've been silent since," he said to no one in particular.

A calm voice answered soon after.

"It didn't seem appropriate to speak."

Atticus fell quiet. The strange woman existed as his exo suit now; they were bound, inseparable. She felt what he felt, sensed every ripple of thought beneath the surface.

His eyes returned to the cocoon.

"What do you think about this?"

He waved his arm, and the cocoon dispersed into motes of light, revealing the masked fragment bearer draped in Willguard uniform.

The sight had shocked him when he'd first discovered it. A fragment bearer aligned with the Willguard was not something he'd anticipated.

Still, the man's fate was sealed. Right now, there were matters far more pressing than his death.

Solvath had been the cause of everything, the invasion of his mind and the loss of control. Was it truly sane to even consider absorbing more fragments after that?

The woman remained silent for several seconds before replying.

"Why would you stop?"

Atticus frowned, briefly wondering if it was a trick question, then answered.

"Because I don't want to get taken over?"

"Say you stop collecting fragments. Then what?"

He had no answer.

"I'll tell you," she continued evenly. "Either you eventually meet your end at the hands of the Willguard, or other fragment bearers, those unafraid of the risk, will come for you. Either way, you die."

'I see…'

The Willguard would only grow stronger the higher he climbed, and the same was true of other fragment bearers, especially those driven by obsession.

He couldn't rid himself of the fragments he'd already fused with, and even if such a thing were possible, the Middle Planes had already branded him a fragment bearer.

To remain stagnant was simply another path to death.

"That eye… it was Solvath, wasn't it?" Atticus said quietly. "Everything was caused by him. If he grows more powerful, what happens the next time he decides to attack?"

"Why did this happen?"

"Solvath—"

"Not how," she interrupted. "Why did it happen? Why not immediately after you fused with the fragments?"

Atticus paused, retracing events in his mind, piecing them together until realization dawned. His eyes widened slightly.

"Because I was consolidating the wills of the Marquis," he said slowly. "My mind was occupied… and he saw an opening."

"Correct," she replied. "And what does that tell you?"

"That he only has a chance when my mind isn't fully intact."

Atticus nodded faintly. Everything aligned now. Logoth had ensured that Solvath's hold on him was null, and as long as his senses remained fully intact, a sudden takeover was unlikely.

Still, the risks remained. He now carried four fragments, each one amplifying the emotional surges threatening to overwhelm him.

He already had to keep Logoth at half capacity just to remain stable. Adding more fragments would only increase the strain.

Atticus let out a slow breath.

'What's the end goal?'

How many fragments were enough? What happened if he collected them all? What if the burden eventually became too much to bear?

He cleared his thoughts, pushing the questions aside.

'I'll handle it as I go.'

An approving voice followed almost immediately.

"That's the right way for a warrior to think. You pass."

Atticus frowned.

"You were testing me?"

"Of course," she replied calmly. "I am your master, and you my student, after all."

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