The teenagers were led to a gate that opened into a dark hall. The moment they stepped past the threshold, true darkness swallowed them. It was impossible to tell where they were going or how large the space was.

  They were given only a single torch. Ruslan carried it, though the dim magical flame barely reached a few meters ahead. What was the point of a torch like that if you still couldn’t see anything? Had the elves really been too stingy to provide a proper one?

  The elves did not enter with them. When the gate closed behind them without a sound, silence settled over the hall. The torchlight formed a dense sphere around the group, but beyond it the darkness was so thick that the light seemed to dissolve inside it.

  “I don’t like this…” Ruslan muttered.

  “When have you ever liked anything?” Kristina replied, her voice trembling. “It’s so dark…”

  Her words echoed through the hall.

  “Dark… dark… Who are you?”

  The last echo returned in Kristina’s own voice, and that made it worse.

  “You can do what you want, but I’d get out of here…” Julia said quietly.

  Max smiled faintly. Even the ghost was unsettled.

  Beyond the circle of light, the darkness seemed to warp the space itself, and Max felt his sense of reality begin to slip.

  “Wait here. I’ll scout ahead,” he said.

  “Again by yourself?” Ruslan grimaced.

  “Max, don’t go!” Kristina blurted out. “I don’t want you to leave. I’m scared.”

  “I’ll stay close. Don’t worry.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  “Stay here with Ruslan. Julia’s with you.”

  “The ghost you told me about?!” Kristina yelped. “Thanks, but maybe not. Can you take her with you instead?”

  “I’ll watch over her,” Ruslan said quietly.

  Max lay down on the ground and stepped out of his body. By now, it came fairly easily.

  “I’ll watch them too,” Julia added.

  Max glanced at her in surprise. Was she afraid to go with him? Fine. Some heroes they were.

  An underground city unfolded before him.

  In spirit form, his vision shifted. He no longer saw stone and shadow the way a human would, but currents of energy flowing through space. There was little energy in the city itself, yet he could now make out a cobbled road and two- and three-story stone houses lining it. In the center of the city, he sensed a powerful source of energy.

  The worst part was that the city was not empty.

  From windows and doorways, blurry black figures watched him. They had no faces, only hollow silhouettes. They looked like souls stripped of everything that made them alive, nothing but empty shells. Was this what remained after the Spirit had fed?

  “Do you see them too?” Max whispered to Julia while she was still nearby.

  “See what?”

  “The silhouettes. In the houses.”

  “Silhouettes?” Julia cut him off sharply. “I don’t see anything, Max. What silhouettes?”

  She drifted a little farther back. Max frowned in surprise. Since when did she retreat like that? Giant monsters had never frightened her. In the darkest corners of the fortress, she had been bold and reckless. And now shadows unsettled her? What did she have to fear? She was already dead – and not just an ordinary ghost.

  “Don’t get ideas,” Julia said quickly, almost defensive. “It’s just that something’s wrong here. It feels like everything is pressing down on me. It’s creepy, okay?”

  Max frowned. Such a coward, he thought, though his own chest had begun to tighten. For a moment, he considered moving forward alone. But when his gaze lingered on the dark houses and the strange shadows behind their windows, unease crept into him as well.

  Julia, meanwhile, stubbornly acted as if everything was under control. She tossed her hair back and snorted.

  “If you want to go, then go. I’ll just… cover the rear. Someone has to make sure nothing eats you from behind.”

  The tension in her voice remained, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

  What if he asked for advice? Would he really lose much by spending a few minutes on it?

  Max considered who to approach. Vialon was always grumbling and busy, and he had already exhausted the old dwarf Lub with endless questions. This time, he chose Marvin.

  Marvin’s afterlife had changed completely. Not long ago, he had been a simple Otherworld Messenger. His job had been straightforward: open a door, guide a soul where it needed to go, and move on. It had been perfect. Sweet as honey. But no – he had wanted to become an Overlord of a plane. Now he was buried under so many problems that his head spun.

  His plane was no smaller than an entire world, and trying to manage it all at once had proven impossible. He needed overseers for different sectors and a proper system where souls with similar energy could live near one another. The greater the harmony within a plane, the more energy it produced, and right now energy was needed above all for defense. Foreign planes had already begun probing the borders. There was no real threat yet, but who knew what forces existed out there? For now, it was only reconnaissance.

  There was another problem: Marvin could not control the defensive structure directly. Only Max could. And Max had run off to the world of the living. At least Vialon had been lucky. No one had touched his plane yet. No one even knew where it was – or that creating a new plane was even possible. So Marvin did not worry about Vialon at all.

  Meanwhile, he was drowning in chaos.

  Souls who had believed in specific Gods during life went to the corresponding planes after death. Those who had believed in several ended up wherever their faith had been strongest, or wherever a Messenger reached them first. Those who believed in nothing wandered between worlds. It had always been clear and orderly.

  But suddenly, souls began arriving in his plane who should have belonged elsewhere. First came those who had not fit into the plane of love. Then indifferent, ownerless souls. And his plane did not reject them. Foreign energy should have caused conflict, but it did not. It was as if anyone could settle there.

  What was this supposed to be – a shelter for the homeless?

  And there was a second, worse issue. Marvin had noticed that the size of the plane was changing. With every new wave of souls, it grew. That should have been impossible. Even the laws of the Otherworld did not allow such a thing. Not even Gods could do it.

  Maybe he was imagining it. Had he hit his head somewhere? That Max was driving him insane.

  Right at that moment, Max appeared before him.

  “Listen, we have a problem!” Marvin blurted out as soon as he realized Max was not a hallucination. “The plane is growing!”

  “Of course it’s growing,” Max replied, slightly confused. “I adjusted the settings. More souls means more space. Makes sense, right?”

  “What do you mean, ‘adjusted’?” Marvin cried. “The laws of the world don’t change with a snap of your fingers!”

  “Maybe others just didn’t know how,” Max said with a shrug. “Marvin, that’s not important. I have a different problem. How do I deal with a spirit?”

  “A spirit?” Marvin stared at him. “You can rewrite the laws of existence, and you’re worried about that?”

  “In the real world, I can’t change anything,” Max explained. “I tried. But this spirit is devouring souls, and I don’t know how to stop it. Can it be captured?”

  Marvin was about to laugh, but he remembered Vialon’s lessons. He sighed and answered seriously.

  “Spirits were originally created as helpers. They’re not truly alive. They’re more like pure energy that can be shaped into many forms. They maintained order in certain places, became living artifacts, assistants, servants. Often, they form on their own in areas where elemental control is needed.”

  “I suspect this one has a personality,” Max said. “And not a pleasant one. It doesn’t devour souls without reason.”

  “Devours…” Marvin shook his head. “If its purpose is to protect the place where it resides, it can evolve. Learn. If it’s old and strong enough, it can develop traits of a personality. Spirits vary. Some quietly maintain elemental balance. Others obey those who know how to speak to them. Some become part of an artifact – that’s how living artifacts are born. Or they bind themselves to a being and serve it, almost like a companion.”

  “Got it. So do you know how to handle one?”

  “Of course not! I’m not an artificer or a shaman!” Marvin spread his hands. “But if you bring the spirit here, I’ll find someone who can help. I doubt Vialon took every master soul with him.”

  “Can a spirit be brought into the Otherworld?”

  “Of course. There are plenty of them here already. They’re immaterial.”

  “Great. Then I’ll bring it soon. Start looking for experts.”

  “Wait!” Marvin shouted. “What God of which element are you?”

  But Max had already vanished – without even opening a door.

  Marvin stood there for a long time, trying to sort out his thoughts.

  He had always considered Max a God of death. But death was an element too. Those who believed in specific Gods of death went to their planes. Yet souls ended up in Max’s plane even if they had never heard of him, and he still received their faith.

  What kind of absurdity was that?

  “With a God like Max, anyone would lose their mind,” Marvin muttered with a weary sigh.

  “Hey!” Max called into the darkness.

  The spirit did not appear, but its gaze was clear and unmistakable. Even in soul form, he could feel it watching him.

  “Hey…” the echo answered several times.

  Then silence.

  Where was that echo coming from? This was a spiritual space.

  Max clenched his teeth and flew farther down the road. It was not hard to guess where the spirit would be.

  Of course it would dwell in the center of the city – in the dark tower that rose like a column, connecting the ground to the cavern’s ceiling. Where else would the master sit? Still, it was strange that it had not come out to meet him. Was it afraid? Too hungry? Or simply cautious?

  Max rose higher, keeping his distance from the houses. Something about them felt deeply wrong. Behind him, he could see only a distant drop of light – the place where he had left his family.

  Up close, the tower was far larger than it had seemed, overwhelming in scale. Too bad he could see only its outlines. If there had been light, he would have gladly studied the ancient city. Had the dwarves once illuminated it somehow? Where had their lamps been placed?

  He moved toward the place where he sensed something alive – deep within the center of the tower. Slipping through the wall, he found himself inside. Stone shelves, tables, scattered junk, dust… but nothing living. Not even spiders. Everything had been drained completely.

  Then a voice sounded, quiet and cracked.

  “You’re not the one I was waiting for.”

  Max froze.

  In the darkness near the wall, he saw the figure of a woman – emaciated, transparent, almost skeletal. She hung against the stone, bound by heavy metal chains. Even her wings – mere bony extensions without a single feather – were shackled. Was this the spirit? She looked wrong. And why was she chained? Where were the gardens the elves had spoken about?

  “You shouldn’t have come. It’s a trap, angel,” she whispered.

  “A trap?” Max asked.

  “You could have guessed. Didn’t you understand where you were going? I whispered. I warned you about what waits here. You should have heard. And if you failed to understand the words, then you were not listening carefully enough. Since you came alone, you’ll soon hang beside me. At least I’ll have company for the final centuries of my existence.”

  “Centuries? You’ve been here that long?” It was hard to look at her. Speaking to her felt like speaking to an ancient skeleton. Even most of her hair was gone.

  “I long ago lost count of time while the spirit feeds on my strength.”

  So she was not the spirit.

  “Where is it?” Max glanced around.

  “Oh, don’t worry. It’s close. Right now it’s playing with you, deciding how to bind you in these chains. If you look around carefully, you’ll realize you’re already inside its trap.”

  Max did not see any trap, and strangely, he did not feel immediate danger.

  “So you’re an angel?” he asked, studying her withered wings.

  “An angel. A Messenger. Like you. Don’t you feel it? I sense a trace of faith within you – something only an angel carries, the power that lets us open doors. Let me introduce myself. I am Victoria, once an angel of the Flame Host. Now I am the prisoner of a worthless spirit. Long ago, I fell into a foolish trap and was abandoned by my brothers. They even severed my connection to the doors.”

  “I’m Max.”

  He did not see her reaction, but he felt it – a sharp flicker of surprise.

  “That’s all? Just Max? Which plane are you from, and how did you find me?”

  Max did not know how to answer. He had already learned that it was better to hide his strength, or at least try to.

  Right now, he needed to solve the problem. He had to capture the spirit and somehow push it through his doors into his plane. But the spirit had not appeared. It was clearly watching. The only way to draw it out was to start saving Victoria.

  He flew toward her.

  For a moment, he felt resistance, as if the air had thickened and tried to hold him in place. Then the pressure vanished instantly without slowing him at all. Only afterward did he realize that his defensive structure had repelled a magical attack.

  “How did you do that?” Victoria cried.

  “Do what?” Max stopped.

  “You stepped out of the trap the spirit set for you. It’s in the center of the tower – right where you were a moment ago.”

  So that had been the resistance. That was the trap she meant.

  “Well, I’m something of a specialist when it comes to escaping traps,” Max said, offering the first excuse that came to mind.

  “Are you from the War Pantheon? The Hunters’ plane?”

  “Almost. You could say I’m closely connected to the War Pantheon.”

  He remembered that he had taken his plane from the War Pantheon and tried to unfasten the chains on the angel, but nothing happened.

  “These aren’t simple chains,” Victoria said. “They’re only the visible shell of a binding technique. They are part of the spirit itself. As long as it remains here, I am tied to its power. Bound to it. I could free myself… if I had even a drop of fire. Or light.”

  Light.

  So that was why everything here was drowned in darkness. The spirit had cut her off from her element and kept her powerless in the dark.

  So what, was Max supposed to go back for the torch?

  The torch had been dim anyway. Maybe that was intentional, so it wouldn’t accidentally empower this angel. No, he had to handle this himself. First, find the spirit. Then drag it through his doors.

  When the spirit finally appeared, it was impossible to miss.

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  The darkness did not just thicken – it began to flow along the walls like black liquid. For a moment, Max felt as if the stone itself had started breathing. The tower was waking up. An ancient, heavy awareness filled the air.

  Then, in the deepest corner, two bright yellow eyes lit up, their pupils thin and sharp.

  A moment later, the spirit stood before him.

  Max almost relaxed.

  Was that… a cat?

  A black one.

  He understood the spirit was powerful, but it was difficult to feel the same fear while staring at what looked like an ordinary black cat.

  “She is mine!” The voice came from everywhere at once, though the animal stood right in front of him. The sound was dull and flat, as if the stone itself were speaking. “Leave her and go.”

  “What makes you think I will?” Max asked, studying the cat.

  In truth, its gaze was terrifying. It pierced straight through him, and something inside his chest turned cold.

  “Once, I overcame her,” the spirit said. “Now I am stronger. I will break your defiance just as easily.”

  “You captured me when I was wounded!” Victoria’s voice suddenly thundered through the tower – exhausted, yet still carrying traces of former greatness. “Look at him! Your trap does not work on him. He is strong!”

  “His element is traps,” the spirit replied coldly. “Most likely he is from the Hunting Pantheon. An angel of traps. But alone he is powerless. Look at him. He has no wings. He has not summoned armor. Incomplete. Just like you, Victoria.”

  Max flinched slightly.

  An angel of traps?

  He had never thought about his abilities that way, but the idea resonated. His defensive structures really did allow him to escape any trap.

  “You are right and wrong at the same time, spirit,” Victoria answered. “Wings and armor can be concealed. You feel it yourself. He is in balance. His bond with his element is stronger than mine. You will not imprison him. Release us.”

  The spirit went still for a moment, as if considering.

  Then its voice rumbled again.

  “Perhaps there is risk. But I can offer you a bargain, angel of traps. If you give me your soul voluntarily, two angelic souls will be enough for me to ascend into a higher spirit. I will release your people who now wander my city – they matter to you, do they not? And I will no longer require sacrifices from the elves. In only a few hundred years, this place will become an unbreakable fortress. I swear I will not touch the souls of lesser mortals again. Believe me, this would benefit the world. You cannot imagine from whom I protect it. Is that not noble?”

  Max had no intention of agreeing, but his curiosity flared.

  Every conversation with an angel or a spirit revealed another piece of truth about this world. He had begun to understand what angels were. When Marvin had still been an Otherworld Messenger, he could have been called an angel as well. He had no wings or armor either. Perhaps he had simply been weak back then. He became an angel the moment he gained the power to open doors.

  “And if I agree,” Max asked calmly, nodding toward Victoria, “will I suffer like she does?”

  “She is a captive angel,” the spirit replied. “You would surrender willingly. You would feel nothing. Your power would simply flow into me.”

  “Oh, so a noble angel has appeared?” Victoria said with a bitter smile. “You are a fool if you even consider this bargain. I would never accept it in your place. No matter which God you serve, every angel is priceless. Lose even one, and a plane can weaken, lose influence, even collapse. Millions of souls would perish. Are you truly ready for that? I never was. If not for my wound and his deceit, I would not be here. If my Overlord had not been such a fool, an army would have come. My brothers would have burned this lair to ashes and chained you in eternal fire. Do not believe him. He protects no one. He is hungry. Mad. Twisted.”

  “How did he manage to capture you?” Max asked.

  “I was weakened. Wounded. He offered help… and betrayed me. I had no choice.” Her voice hardened with anger.

  “Well, angel of traps?” the spirit pressed impatiently. “Perhaps it will help you decide if I remind you that I must remain here. I hold this place in balance. I keep the darkness from rising out of the depths of this mountain.”

  Max frowned.

  Then, suddenly, he turned his gaze back to the angel, completely ignoring the dark voice.

  “Tell me something,” he said calmly. “Is there any way to pull the spirit out of its tower? I need to take it somewhere.”

  Both the spirit and Victoria froze.

  After a moment, the angel spoke quietly.

  “A spirit of a place is bound to that place. He will not leave unless he chooses to. His purpose is to guard it. Elsewhere, he would lose much of his power. I had centuries to think… and to listen. I believe a dwarven artificer created him to protect the city, but something went wrong. One crucial value was never embedded in him – the value of life. For him, preserving the city is more important than the lives of its inhabitants. So he consumed them all, and the city survived the catastrophe. The same fate awaits the elves who feed him. He will destroy them too, if that is what it takes to preserve stone walls. He must be rewritten.”

  “So he’s willing to do anything for the city?” Max asked. “How does he determine danger?”

  “He senses it. That part was crafted perfectly.”

  “If you think you can frighten me, angel, you are mistaken,” the spirit said coldly. “Nothing threatens my city, and I have the power to fight even a fully armored angel.”

  Something tightened inside Max.

  The spirit would only sense danger if it believed Max was capable of destroying both it and the city. And Max had an idea.

  He leaned closer to the cat and whispered so quietly that no one else could hear, carefully putting not a single drop of energy into the word.

  “Death.”

  It was only a word.

  The cat froze.

  It understood, even though it had never heard the term before. A spirit did not need knowledge to recognize power.

  “You…” the spirit’s voice trembled. “You are not what I thought.”

  Max glanced at the angel. She was watching silently, confused. She had not heard. Good.

  “Follow me, and the city remains intact,” Max said firmly, and opened a door.

  The gray silhouette of the cat appeared beside it and, without hesitation, slipped into the dark passage.

  It was too easy.

  Max scratched the back of his head in disbelief, and his hat slid off. Victoria stood there with her mouth slightly open.

  A moment later, the chains binding her crumbled into dust. She staggered, and Max caught her before she fell.

  “What was that?” she burst out. “He just obeyed you? How? I need… I need a little fire. Can you ignite a flame?”

  “Why?”

  “Fire will restore my strength,” Victoria replied urgently. A few minutes ago she could barely speak, and now her voice carried force again.

  “But you’re not dying,” Max said, confused. “You’ve been hanging there for centuries. Sorry, I’ll be back soon. I need to deal with him before he tries something. Don’t go anywhere.”

  He stepped calmly through the door after the spirit.

  “You were seriously going to leave me there?” was the first thing he heard on the other side.

  Victoria stood in front of him – still gaunt, but stubborn as ever.

  How was she already here? And where was she getting that strength?

  “What’s with the dried fish?” Marvin blurted out as he appeared nearby.

  Max froze.

  Wait. Why had Victoria followed him? He had told her to stay.

  “Who are you calling dried fish?” the angel snapped, her eyes flashing. “Why am I ‘dried fish’?”

  “Well… you look a little… dried,” Marvin muttered, taking a cautious step back.

  “Give me a few minutes to recover, and I’ll show you who’s ‘dried’,” she shot back. “And who are you supposed to be?”

  “I’m Marvin… I’m, uh… the Overlord here…” He swallowed and glanced at Max.

  Victoria went still. Her expression shifted from surprise to horror.

  “Overlord?..” She nearly choked on the word. “Overlord? You." Now she looked embarrassed. “I… I apologize…”

  Then she turned sharply toward Max.

  “Why didn’t you warn me your Overlord would be here? Now I have to apologize because of you? And why did the spirit obey you?”

  “The spirit believed its city was in danger,” Max answered calmly.

  “From you?” Victoria scoffed. “How exactly did you trick it? Although… never mind. I need to recover.” She turned away and sat cross-legged on the ground.

  Only then did Max remember.

  Where was the spirit?

  “There,” Marvin said, reading his thoughts, and pointed toward an old gray-haired man.

  That was the spirit? It had been a cat.

  The elderly man stood a short distance away, holding a glass cube. Only after looking closer did Max realize the spirit was not the man himself but trapped inside the cube. Within the transparent prison, a dark mass trembled.

  “Let me introduce him,” Marvin said. “Rav Dao Li, a master of seals and a high-level artificer. He’s temporarily here from Vialon’s plane to assist us. The spirit jumped out at the perfect moment, so he helped seal it. It took considerable effort.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Dao Li,” Max said with a respectful bow.

  “Rav Dao Li,” the old man corrected gently, smiling.

  “Rav Dao Li,” Max repeated, then nodded toward the cube. “That’s him?”

  “Yes. For now, he is restrained by a seal. He cannot escape. But he must be rewritten. Otherwise, he will return to the city and continue as before.”

  “Rewritten? What does that mean?”

  “Look.” The old master focused on the cube. “This spirit was bound to a place. Very old and very strong, he nearly considered himself the city itself. The problem is that the value of life was never embedded in his seal. So he sacrificed the dwarves to preserve the walls. The same could happen to any other living beings. I propose altering the seal – giving him a new foundation. Or we can release him, but then he will return to his city and act the same way.”

  “And if we rewrite him, he could guard another place? The elves, for example, but without harming them?”

  “That is more complicated.” Rav Dao Li shook his head. “I cannot leave this plane to rewrite him within the city itself.”

  “Then what do we do with him?” Max asked quietly, watching the dark mass flicker inside the cube.

  “You must bind him here, in this city. Or there is another option – he remains under supervision. Under your personal supervision.” The old man’s eyes gleamed. “He can be placed into a ring. I see you carry two. The Ring of Flesh is not ideal. I assume you do not wish to walk around with some monster attached to you. But what about binding him to your Ring of Space? Spatial familiars are incredibly powerful and useful.”

  “First, the spirit is not mine yet. And second, what exactly is this ‘familiar’? I’m not sure this is a good idea. He was not exactly kind.” Max frowned.

  “A completely ordinary spirit! And he will become a completely ordinary familiar,” Rav Dao Li replied enthusiastically. “In the past, this was common. Usually it is a magical creature or a living technique bound tightly to its bearer. But a spirit works just as well. He will grow stronger, more intelligent, and develop independently… though he will keep his own personality. The size of your blue ring is sufficient for the binding. And I happen to know the ritual. We will make sure to embed the value of human life this time. Come now, give me the ring and let us begin.”

  Max did not like this.

  He preferred to understand every detail of what happened to him, and now an alien entity would live inside his magic. What if it was dangerous?

  “He won’t start controlling my ring, will he? Weaving techniques I don’t want?” Max wanted full authority over everything inscribed into his Ring of Space.

  “Absolutely not. The binding will occupy a completely separate internal layer. But yes, he will draw from your space energy to fuel his own abilities.”

  Max would have to trust that he could control the spirit.

  Besides, he liked cats.

  “He’ll stay a cat, right?”

  The old master’s face lit up with excitement.

  “His form is part of his essence. It will remain. And remember, a spirit always acts with maximum efficiency. That efficiency may seem strange at times, but he does not sleep and constantly seeks improvement. He will be motivated to grow stronger, strengthen your ring, and protect you.”

  “One more thing,” Max said carefully. “If he feeds on my space energy, won’t that slow my ring’s development?”

  “Do not worry. Yes, he will consume some of your energy. But in return, he will enhance your ring and accelerate its growth far beyond what you could achieve alone.”

  Max thought for a moment.

  A familiar did sound tempting, and he would remain in control.

  “Alright. Let him become a familiar.”

  “Excellent!” Rav Dao Li’s eyes shone. “A spirit familiar. I have not done this since… well, not in life, and not once after death either. This will be delightful. Just do not move, or your soul might tear apart.”

  “What?” was all Max managed to say.

  The cube containing the spirit shot toward him like a thrown stone and struck his chest.

  The light-blue Ring of Space flared to life around his ribcage. Its surface rippled like a disturbed lake, energy churning violently. Max howled as if his magic core were being twisted inside out. A bitter metallic taste filled his mouth, and his lungs felt packed with icy mist.

  His body convulsed. The green Ring of Flesh on his left arm ignited, and the life technique activated on its own, but it was useless. The world seemed to drift away. Sounds faded. His vision blurred. All he could hear was a dull, crushing hum inside his skull.

  Max felt the spirit everywhere – inside his head, in his chest, even in his fingers. It was as if another consciousness had settled within him, cold and alien, breathing in rhythm with his own lungs. He froze, afraid his soul would be pushed out at any moment.

  But the spirit did nothing.

  It simply waited. Silent. Watching.

  A shadow inside a cage. A predator in the dark, patiently awaiting a command.

  It expected something. But what?

  “Excellent,” the old master muttered and began speaking in an unfamiliar language.

  The blue ring around Max’s chest trembled, and it became clear that Rav Dao Li was addressing the spirit directly. Perhaps he was inscribing those foundational parameters. Each word struck like a seal. Every phrase carved itself into the delicate Ring of Space glowing around Max’s heart. The spirit absorbed the words as if accepting sacred law.

  Symbols appeared across the light-blue surface – lines like living script. They pulsed, intertwined into complex patterns, then vanished. Slowly, the spirit was drawn inward, dissolving into the luminous ring.

  Time stretched.

  Nearly an hour seemed to pass before the spirit fully merged with the ring. When it was done, the ring glowed steadily and calmly, as if settling around its new power.

  Max needed to return to the dwarven city. His siblings were still there. The dark shades likely would not harm them, but he could not shake his unease.

  “I recommend not summoning the spirit for a few days,” the old master said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Let him settle inside the ring.”

  “And he… won’t try to devour souls anymore?” Max still felt that cold breath in his chest.

  “Of course not. Well… most likely not,” the old man replied with a sly smile. “I inscribed the value of human life into him.”

  That was good news. It would be extremely unpleasant if the spirit decided to consume Max from within.

  Wait.

  The old man had said human.

  “And elven life?” Max blurted out.

  Rav Dao Li paused, and a flicker of guilt crossed his face.

  “Well… elves were not specified. Nor orcs, dwarves, or the rest of the sentient races.”

  “What do you mean not specified?” Max stared at him.

  “I forgot. And what difference does it make? Do you truly care about non-humans? Just make sure he does not drag elves into subspace, and everything will be fine. And if he devours a few… it is not such a loss.”

  Max felt a chill run through him.

  So the old master was a racist. Humans deserved protection, and everyone else was expendable?

  Before Max could respond, the old man suddenly flared into a bright sphere of light and vanished through a door leading to Vialon’s plane, leaving only a fading trail behind.

  Max turned to Marvin, stunned.

  “Well, he is a little strange… but the best at what he does,” Marvin said helplessly.

  “So now I have a spirit I need to monitor to make sure it does not eat everyone who is not human?”

  “Well… yes. Keep an eye on him,” Marvin muttered.

  Max exhaled slowly.

  “I will deal with that later. Right now, I need to free my brother and sister.”

  “And why?” Marvin pressed. “You could simply settle them in your plane. They would live peacefully there.”

  “You are suggesting I kill my own family? Take away the short life they have?”

  “But here they would survive for certain. What if the Lords of Death hunting you capture them? Or worse – one of the Gods uses them to reach you? It is only a matter of time, Max.”

  Where had this sudden pragmatism come from? Max wondered. Had Marvin truly learned responsibility?

  Still, Max refused to abandon life – his own or his family’s. He wanted to explore the world, see its wonders, and share them with those he loved. He believed his will was strong enough to keep them alive.

  “I am going to save them. And if the elves try to stop me."

  “What then? Heal them to death?” Marvin grimaced. “You have a green Ring of Flesh that will not do much against another green-ring holder. A blue Ring of Space you cannot use right now. And a black ring that is too dangerous to activate. What exactly are you planning to do against the elves?”

  “I can negotiate with them.”

  “Like you negotiated with the spirit? You cannot drag all the elves here. You already tried talking to them. How did that end? They fed you to the spirit.”

  “Well,” Max said evenly, “they no longer have a spirit.”

  “‘Good afternoon. I destroyed your main defense, and now you’re helpless. Shall we talk?’” a sarcastic voice said from behind him.

  “I don’t know what defense you mean,” Max replied. “From what I saw, they were trying to defend themselves from it.”

  “Trust my experience. If there was a spirit, it was protecting them from something,” Marvin said.

  “What experience does an Overlord even have?” another voice cut in sharply. “The world of the living is nothing like the afterlife! I’ve been there. That was just a bloodthirsty spirit!”

  Max turned – and froze.

  Victoria stood behind him.

  The dried-out skeleton was gone. In her place stood a young angel with thick chestnut hair and deep brown eyes that almost hypnotized him. In truth, since she was completely naked, it was not her hair that caught the eye first.

  Her skin glowed with life and strength. Realizing where Max was looking, she blushed and quickly wrapped herself in her white wings.

  “Do you happen to have any spiritual clothing here?” Victoria asked innocently, blinking.

  Marvin’s jaw had dropped as well.

  “Y-yes… we’ll find something… And you… where did you come from, beautiful… angel?” he stammered, clearly distracted. The wings did not hide much.

  “What is ‘spiritual clothing’?” Max asked, confused.

  Victoria looked at him as if he were a caveman.

  “I knew you weren’t very developed as an angel. Though with an Overlord like this… how has your plane not collapsed? And where is your God?”

  “He’s… uh… busy,” Marvin answered quickly.

  “One of those who abandoned his duties, huh? The world still stands because of ordinary workers like us!” she snapped, then softened slightly and nodded at Max. “You may be foolish, angel, but I owe you an eternal debt. And don’t even think about what you’re thinking right now.” She narrowed her eyes so sharply that Max suddenly felt guilty, even though he had not had time to think anything at all.

  At that moment, a soul in the form of a man in livery appeared beside them. Max glanced at Marvin in confusion, but Marvin only gave him a thumbs-up.

  The man silently handed Victoria a set of clothing. Shielded by her wings, she dressed quickly. Even after that, she kept her wings spread, as if emphasizing her presence.

  What kind of angel starts ordering an Overlord around in the first minute? Max wondered.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” he said calmly. “If I understood correctly, you tried to help people – or elves – by descending into the underground city and fell into a trap. We’re on the same side.”

  Her brown eyes flared, and a wave of heat rolled off her. Max instinctively stepped back.

  “I knew you stood on the side of good!” she declared. “Here. Take this. It’s the most valuable thing I can offer right now. And remember – it’s a great honor. This is only the second core of True Fire I have ever created in my entire life!”

  She extended her palm. A pulsing red sphere floated above it.

  Max carefully accepted the gift. It felt like holding a tiny star.

  New magic? And fire?

  He remembered the fire mages from the fortress – burned hands, scarred faces, tired, angry eyes. Fire was dangerous. There was only one person he knew who truly loved fire.

  Kristina.

  “And if someone already has a normal Fire Ring?” he asked carefully.

  “You… don’t want to accept it yourself?” Victoria bristled. “Insolent! I hope you give it to someone truly worthy.” She puffed her cheeks. “But know this: the core can strengthen an ordinary Fire Ring and transform it into True Fire. Or you can carry both – Fire and True Fire. They do not conflict. Together, they grant power worthy of legends.”

  “Thank you. This is truly valuable,” Max said, already thinking about how to give it to Kristina.

  “But who are you, exactly?” she pressed.

  “Sorry, I need to go,” Max replied. Then he met her eyes and added, “Talk to Marvin. He’ll explain.”

  “To Marvin?” She turned toward him as if noticing him properly for the first time. She still assumed the true Overlord was occupied with grand matters, and that Max was merely showing her around the plane.

  Then a thought struck her.

  Wait.

  How had he brought her here – passing through the protection of a foreign faith as if it were nothing?

  When she turned around, Max was gone.

  “Marvin! Where did your angel go?”

  “I… I don’t know,” he muttered, lowering his eyes.

  “What kind of chaos is this? What kind of plane are you running?”

  “I… don’t know…” Marvin repeated, even more quietly.

  “What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the Overlord. What faith governs this place?”

  “Any,” he answered guiltily.

  Victoria’s eyes widened.

  “Any? What kind of mess is this?” she whispered, then drew a slow breath. “Fine. If this plane is truly run by fools, then I will have to help you. Otherwise, everything will collapse.”

  The path to her own plane was closed. Her connection to her Doors had been severed long ago, which meant she was needed here.

  She would bring order.

  Victoria smiled slowly and turned her gaze to Marvin.

  Marvin instinctively took a few uncertain steps back.