The deities were more than just beings of immense power. Their very existence rewrote the reality in which they existed, guiding and shaping it according to their will.

  Perhaps the clearest example was Shadows, who created death. The end of eternity. But other deities also pyed a part in shaping what we call the natural order. Sometimes, not by creating something new, but by giving greater importance to that which represented them. Such as the sun god with the patron star of each world. Or Heart, who was the foundation of every society through the quest to understand the soul. Or the goddess of Beasts, who dictated the instincts of every being.

  But it wasn't only the gods who had this right; the demons, upon reaching apotheosis, gave weight to their concepts. Hope bestowed that spark upon mortals to overcome the insurmountable. Ariel bestowed that instinct for survival that only fear can achieve, without succumbing to panic. And even Weavel, despite all his mysticism, offered guidance on each one's path to fulfill their destined purposes.

  But in Nether's case, it was a little different. He was called the demon of choice, but since everyone was connected by destiny, it was said that he would always be overshadowed by his older brother.

  The ruler of the underworld, the greatest craftsman, the youngest son of the unspeakable. He had many titles, but in the end, they were all vague compared to what he represented. Because, above all, Nether was a dreamer.

  He dreamed of things beyond his nature, questioned things that no one should. His curiosity and defiance of the established order marked a before and after his birth. His very creation of her, as one of his daughters, was a clear sign of this. A challenge to those who denied her inheritance of her lineage.

  Perhaps that was why he got along so well with the demon of imagination. This is why, when even a single fragment of that demon was recreated by the spell, its behavior was less than normal. A space where every being was meant to act like a puppet—it understood this instantly, even though it shouldn't have.

  So, she received her gift, not in the form of an attribute, lineage, or any weapon or technique. After all, tools weren't the most valuable thing to Nether; they never were. Instead, knowledge and insight were the most valuable to the chosen demon.

  Saint observed the runes carved into a mannequin made entirely of common stone; featureless except for its humanoid form. Chains of patterns lined its surface, pulsing with the energy of its soul essence.

  The stone then twisted, trying to take a form that was completely unknown to it. Like living stone, it rose, standing with extreme difficulty. Then, it took a step forward, bumping against its own slow, clumsy joints.

  Another failure. – The essence of the soul ceased to flow and the rock mannequin fell to the sand.

  Beside her, the shadow of her master shook its head, annoyed by the ck of progress. Saint gred at him, causing his shadow to disappear into the sand.

  She noticed it. The fws, the shortcomings that pgued her subpar work. What she had gained from Nether was runic knowledge reted to its creation.

  Invaluable knowledge with the power to bring true life into the world, along with a perfect army to bring peace… or war.

  Even so, it was difficult to master. Even with all her practice and perfect skill, there were elements that eluded her control. An element she didn't understand, but which she had come to call will and intention.

  The former referred to bending the ws of the world so that the runes she tried to carve would function as she wished. In other words, under the current ws of the world, they would be considered wrong, but by adding will, they would be considered right.

  The tter was both simpler and incredibly difficult. It was simply a matter of wishing them to come to life. A notion that was anything but absurd. She sought to imbue the rock with that spark her father had so desperately sought, a spark that even she and her siblings had failed to ignite. Still, that was her requirement, even if it made no sense under current logic.

  Even so, this presented a problem. As she was now, she could achieve neither. She wasn't powerful enough, nor could her heart harbor such desires. Therefore, it was impossible to use her father's legacy at that moment…

  Or perhaps not… She had already made use of these disposable soldiers when she escaped the Ash Stalker. She had drawn from her shadow the failed attempts at soldiers, using them as mere distraction golems.

  Of course, these soldiers hadn't been able to act independently; she had simply ensured they were capable of performing a specific action and then left the triggers ready for someone else to activate them.

  Her gaze shifted once more to her shadow, which had emerged from its hiding pce again and was now innocently swinging its legs atop a rib. Sensing his stare, it visibly shuddered, as if someone had decided to trap its soul in a mop.

  Without a command, Saint indicated his intentions, and the mannequin, like a good, overworked employee, obeyed with slumped shoulders.

  Her master's shadow slowly merged with the stone mannequin, transforming its rigid, spasmodic movements into something more human. The mannequin shifted uncomfortably, examining its jointless hands and feeling its faceless head.

  She nodded once before lunging forward, nearly blowing its head off. Luckily, it managed to move just in time, losing only half of it.

  He stirred unhappily, kicking the sand and unleashing a tirade of muted screams. Of course, Saint ignored all his nonsense and focused on the results.

  The reaction time was greater than the body's speed, but the accuracy he dispyed was acceptable, something that could be corrected with improvements to the shell. It could serve as a form of foot soldier or armor for his shadow; after all, although it could manifest, this put his own soul at greater risk. Even though it was much rougher and more resilient than it should be, it still couldn't seriously fight individuals of his own level. Something that had to be corrected immediately.

  Even so… that didn't solve his group strength problem.

  Yes, she was powerful.

  Yes, she was capable of taking care of herself.

  But it wouldn't be enough. Not when that being was still about to awaken.

  She didn't forget. Even when corruption took root in her soul, that whisper that moved thousands of armies in a losing battle still haunted her mind. The echoes of war drew ever closer, and she was insufficient. The forgotten shore proved it. She needed her own power, her own army, and her father's legacy would be the first step toward achieving it.

  It was then that her attention was drawn to her own shadow, which had crouched in the sand, drawing with its own fingers. The sight was somewhat strange, like that of a child pying in the dirt, only with the added detail of being on a featureless mannequin body in the middle of a desert of eternal darkness.

  But she didn't focus on that, but rather on what it wanted to convey. A single symbol was written, not a rune, nor any human nguage, but an image, the image of a beetle being devoured by a shadow.

  The realization formed instantly. Searching her soul, she allowed the sparks to whizz across her palm until the figure of a small bck beetle nded on her hand.

  It was one of those beetles that had invaded the frozen city in Antarctica. Those creatures that consumed the darkness and multiplied to devour everything.

  A fallen titan [Khepri Scarab]

  [Long ago, a creature of the void bled itself dry atop a mountain, its blood dripping like darkness that stained its surroundings. Though the creature was dead, it will spread like a pgue, killing any creatures that came near and creating abominations to guard its remains. But even they could not survive when this pgue spread. Like a swarm, they consumed their dead. Like a tide, they dried up the rivers of blood. As a single will, they parasitized the mountain itself.

  It was only the whim of a daemon that its kind be wiped out before it could unleash its deluge… and yet, here it is.]

  The fallen titan was a fascinating and incredibly powerful creature, but useless for her original purposes. She didn't seek power for position or respect; she sought challenge and war as a way to forge herself. Such crutches would only be counterproductive… but things had changed. This Titan's ability allowed her to create armies and control them like a living tide. Such an individual would be dangerous to any king. She was a nascent pgue.

  And yet, she wasn't without problems. The main one was clear: right now, only the queen existed. To grow and raise her army once more, she would need to feed on true darkness for years.

  When she absorbed this element herself, but didn't create it, it posed an impediment to her development. Even so, she didn't need this echo for that purpose right now.

  Without a hint of hesitation, she swallowed the insect.

  Her shadow froze, eyes wide, even the soul serpent emerged from her shadow to watch her. Saint ignored them both and waited.

  [You have gained an attribute: Parasitized]

  [A creature of darkness has taken up residence in your body, draining the true darkness that dwells in your heart. This is under your control, so its harm or benefit can only be decided by you.]

  With a wave of his hands, three beetles sprouted from the joints of his armor, nding on the sand in a banal gesture.

  Her master's shadow took several steps back, clutching itself to control the shivers running through its body, only to colpse to the ground as these beetles emerged from the sand to pierce the stone of the mannequin's body and settle inside.

  Instantly, his shadow emerged from the shell, now observing with a certain interest. The stone mannequin remained rigid for a few moments until it finally moved. It wasn't the natural gait of his shadow's possession, nor the rigid, predetermined movements of his runic sorcery. Instead, it was like the chaotic movements of a puppeteer who didn't know which string to pull.

  She lowered her gaze; now there was a connection and an intention, but not the precision of reasoning. The echo was just that, a simple echo. Without a true soul, only a mere mirage trying to act as the real thing.

  Even so, she still had a solution. By concentrating, she could access the consciousness of her shadows, especially that of her master. He always seemed to be an outlier. With a mind stronger than anyone's and an ability to divide his attention as if he were born to do so.

  So, if her theory was correct…

  She called him back, allowing his shadow to merge with her body, finally with her heart, where the beetle queen dwelled. Her shadow was reluctant, but obeyed nonetheless.

  Instantly, she felt a change. As if she had suddenly opened eyes, she didn't know she had. A sensation deep within her mind connected, as if a part of her had been detached—no, that was imprecise. It was still there, but it wasn't hers, and yet it wasn't.

  It was like this… What did it feel like to control brood?

  The mannequin, which until then had been trying to stand, stopped. With a fluid, yet slow movement, it rose to its feet, turned on its own axis, and waved to her.

  She found herself nodding, then trying to cut it off. The cut was clean, and the head fell with a dull thud. Even so, the mannequin didn't fall silent; it only crossed its arms in indignation.

  Saint merely tilted his head to one side, his magenta eyes piercing its surface.

  The golem's strength had waned, making it weaker than an awakened creature, unlike when its shadow directly controlled it. Something that, upon reflection, was predictable. The offspring of a fallen titan were always of a lower rank than their progenitor.

  Even so, this was only a test. It had already demonstrated its ability to act independently, even if not perfectly. Strength and power could come ter; after all, even the spell had a fwed start.