On the abyssal end of the demonic rift...
The corrupt plane was as lightless as it was vile, hordes of Variants struggling to get a chance at the rift.
ters away from the rift, a massive field-sized ancient platform stood. Upon it were eight individuals — with only one conscious: the Lich Shaman.
The shaman stood, its bare bone jaws rattling ominously, echoing ancient chants that directed a catastrophic level of corruption to sustain the vile rift.
Suddenly, a commotion rang out from the side that caught its attention.
A massive eruption of corrupt force surged from one of the unconscious figures at its side, as the abomination opened its vengeful eyes...
If Layla were here, she would very likely recognize the coiling horror as the upgraded version of her foe — Asmodeus, the Serpent Finger.
Compared to its form on Arcana, here its figure was nothing short of staggering — a colossal behemoth that threatened the capacity to smother mountains. Its crimson slits simred with unresigned anger.
"Damn that bitch! I’m going to eat her whole!" it roared in unbridled fury, its abyssal scales glinting with crimson specks.
The Lich Shaman’s head cracked as it turned toward the Ninth Finger, its hollow sockets holding within their depths a pair of dancing erald flas.
Its jaws rattled, an eerie unpleasant voice reverberating into reality:
"You lost a battle? Against a being from a fledgling plane? Disappointing..."
The jagged teeth of Asmodeus grated together, sha filling its heart at those words. If it were anyone else, it might have erupted in fury, killing the speaker in a single breath...
But before the shaman, it dared not let out as much as a defiant squeak. After all, the Lich bore another identity — the very First Finger of Gluttony: Voldyk, the leader of all Ten Fingers.
So it clamped its jaw tight in shaful silence, unable to defend its loss.
Just then, another viscous torrent of corrupt force raged into the atmosphere as another Finger regained consciousness.
It was Varyk — the maws-and-limbs amalgamation of a blob. Its grotesque figure writhed disgustingly, its true form extravagantly more vile and disastrous than its avatar betrayed.
Massive streams of vile corruption fud from its nurous maws as it wailed, its voice like the silent whispers of multitudes of wraiths:
"Gahhhhhhhh! That weak piece of shit! If not for your sorry excuse of a fragile plane, I would have gobbled you up without you having a chance to resist!"
Voldyk’s flaming gaze turned to the resentful Finger. Though its skeletal fra couldn’t betray emotion, the volatile storm of corruption aura shrouding its figure definitely could.
The Lich’s bone jaw opened, ready to speak to Varyk, when suddenly another eruption of force — then another, and another — as more Fingers awakened.
Bone jaw slackened, flaming eyes raging with anger, Voldyk watched as all the Fingers he deployed awakened — banished back disgracefully with their tails tucked between their legs like dogs.
These were the Fingers of Gluttony! Even high-order Lords across the universe would be stricken with terror at the ntion of their nas... yet here they were, humbled by a fledgling Ether Plane.
Regardless of the fact they were acting through avatars that bore only a smidgen of their true might, one had to recall their foes were likely undeveloped, newly budding Lords and Hunters — figures still constrained by re numbers of levels and stats.
Voldyk took his ti gazing through all six Fingers, who had their heads tucked down in sha and rage.
Finally, his gaze rested on the highest-ranked Finger deployed — the Fifth Finger, Alfred. The only one with the humblest physique among the other titan Fingers.
He still retained a sowhat human figure — only drastically taller, his eyes holding pure jade darkness, his skin too pale white, giving a feeling of wrongness.
Voldyk spoke:
"Can you give a good reason why I should advise the King to retain you all as Fingers?"
His voice was silent and eerie — but volatile enough to shake them all. They remained stiff in terror.
Alfred t Voldyk’s gaze, his expression as stoic and frigid as could be.
"Our loss wasn’t without justice... I myself faced a divinity bearer along with a Divine Remnant."
Directing his gaze to the others’ stiff visages, he added:
"And I’m pretty sure their encounters were just as interesting."
They all quickly nodded frenziedly, voicing agreents:
"True! too — one was a divinity bearer and an absurdly strong Divine Remnant!"
" too — no Divine Remnant, but the divinity bearer had an absurd weapon that targeted the soul!"
"Mine were two — one dragon hybrid and the other a divine summoner. In total, I faced two divinity bearers!"
"My foe was a descendant of the Astral Wolves! A natural predator of my kind... what could I do to resist?"
Listening to all this, the dancing flas in the depths of Voldyk’s hollow sockets flickered dangerously as he remained silent.
Even a being of his caliber was astounded by the amount of divinity discovered this ti around.
Doom! Doom! Doom!
Suddenly, a massive tremor quaked the earth as four colossal giants walked the vile soil of the corrupt plane.
Each step they took smothered masses of mindless Variants beneath their feet. On their shoulders, each titan held a rod supporting a throne.
Imdiately, all Fingers on the platform dropped to their knees, not daring to breathe too loudly.
For the Seat of Evil Gluttony had arrived.
On the throne sat a vile, grotesque, but equally majestic figure. Hanging on the side of his head was a worn-down crown — missing gems, rusted fra, bent and dented surfaces.
Finally, the tremors ca to a halt as the titanic figures knelt, the rods still held tightly to their shoulders.
Now the throne was sowhat in the eye range of the Fingers... as the King spoke, his voice held an intense feeling of endless hunger and want.
"I felt the return of the Fingers... does that an the fledgling Lord is dead, and the plane is ready for to feast?!"
His question sent shivers down the spines of the Fingers. Their Lord was already so expectant — did they dare convey their disappointing result?
After a brief mont of silence, Voldyk finally spoke.
"My King... I beg for your patience. We’ve made a discovery that changes things."
The King’s gaze flad with interest.
"Oh?"
"Yes, my King. We have discovered a worrying amount of divinity bearers dwelling in this plane — a single territory at that."
The King’s gaze burned with more feverish intensity.
"Divinity?" A trail of drool leaked from his mouth at the word.
"Yes — divinity. With this much concentrated in a single plane, there must be sothing special about it. We must take it more seriously..."
The Lich turned its gaze to the tranquil mass of darkness that held the unconscious Belzebub and continued:
"Hopefully, Belzebub can make this easy and kill the Lord. If not, we will have to wait for another opportunity to penetrate through a weaker territory — that way, we can have full access to this special plane."
The King frowned at Voldyk’s statent.
"If? Belzebub must win! I’m hungry, and divinity snacks sound just right!
Failure in this mission will be t with disastrous penalties. Make sure Belzebub is aware of that!"
Voldyk bowed back down in silent submission.
As the King turned his gaze to the trembling rest:
"As for you all — you will be punished. Failure as a Finger cannot be t lightly, regardless of the circumstances.
Avada, escort them to our dear neighbors of Lust!"
The six Fingers trembled in terror, horror clouding their hearts. They’d rather be dead or tortured for thousands of years than end up in the grasp of those of the Seat of Evil Lust and their terrifying ways.
Unfortunately, before they could plead their case, a half-rotting corpse-like general stepped forward, dressed in full rusted armor. This was the Second Hand — Avada.
And in a blink, corruption emitted from its figure, clouding their fras — and they all vanished, tearing through space and ti.
The King, seeing his sentence delivered, turned his insatiable gaze toward the rift — streams of drool pouring from his mouth.
"Ah... I can’t wait!"
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