(Third Person POV)
The Star Palace was an architectural paradox, a construct woven not from stone or mortar, but from the solidified, absolute sorrow of the First Angel. It hovered endlessly within the sterile, stagnant expanse of the Otherworld—a dimension insulated within Layer 2: The Divine System. Here, seas of liquid silver crashed against continents of pale, calcified light, generating a soundless roar that echoed the emptiness of a universe missing its Creator.
Within the grand, vaulted sanctuary of the palace, the atmosphere was suffocatingly dense. The ambient divine energy, usually a placid, shimmering gold, was currently violently turbulent, spiking and churning in erratic, jagged manifestations of pure, unadulterated cosmological fury.
Feldway, the Phantom King, paced the ethereal floorboards.
[Target: Feldway (The Phantom King)] -> [System: Divine (Native)] -> [Rank: Demigod (Apex)]
He was flawlessly, terrifyingly beautiful. Six wings of pure, unblemished light extended from his back, a testament to his original status as the pinnacle of the Seraphim. His face, carved with the absolute, androgynous perfection of Veldanava's initial design, was completely twisted into a sneer of visceral disbelief.
"Zalario is gone," Feldway rasped, his voice vibrating with a harmonic distortion that cracked the pale pillars of the sanctuary. "Not defeated. Not banished to reform in the spiritual matrix. He was systematically, unconditionally eradicated. The connection was manually severed from the server."
Standing before the massive, geometric scrying glass in the center of the hall was a man wearing the opulent, gold-trimmed military uniform of the Eastern Empire. To the mortal world, he was Emperor Rudra Nam Ul Nasca. But the soul that currently piloted the sovereign's Platinum A-Rank flesh was entirely devoid of human empathy or organic hesitation. It was a digital ghost wearing the skin of a king.
[Target: Rudra Nam Ul Nasca (Vessel)] -> [Entity: Justice King Michael (Sentient Ultimate Skill)] -> [System: Divine] -> [Rank: Demigod (Apex)]
"The structural integrity of Zalario's conceptual framework experienced a forced categorical collapse," Michael stated. His voice did not echo; it permeated the space like lines of running code. "The localized quarantine zone surrounding the Jura Tempest Federation operates on an administrative authority that bypasses Layer 2 mechanics entirely. The entity in the white fox mask is not a combatant, Feldway. He is a systemic firewall."
Feldway stopped pacing. His six wings flared aggressively, casting razor-sharp shadows across the silver sea outside.
"A firewall that edits my commanders out of existence," Feldway hissed, his ancient, grief-stricken eyes blazing with manic hostility. "He deleted a million Seraphim with a thought by sending a feedback loop up your tether. He crushed the Cryptid swarms by deploying Primordials. And when I sent a Phantom Commander to assassinate his precious slime, he 'Force Quit' Zalario's soul. This entity... he mocks our Master's grand design. He treats Veldanava's cosmology as a playground!"
Michael turned slowly, the golden eyes of the stolen Emperor blinking with robotic, unyielding precision.
"Rage is an inefficient processor, Feldway. We must analyze the variables objectively," Michael calculated, stepping away from the scrying glass. "The masked anomaly—identified as Nova Tempest—possesses an unquantifiable status. Our attempts to parse his cosmological weight result in [ERROR_DATA_OVERFLOW]. Therefore, direct engagement within his fortified zone is mathematically synonymous with suicide."
"Then what do you propose, Michael?!" Feldway demanded, stepping forward until he loomed over the false Emperor. "We cannot acquire the remaining dragon factors to resurrect Master Veldanava if we cannot breach the forest! Veldora Tempest is sitting in a sanctuary where the physical laws are actively hostile to our existence!"
Michael titled his head, the flawlessly handsome face of Rudra shifting into an expression of chilling, sterile pragmatism.
"The mask's territory is anchored to the capital," Michael observed. "The entity Nova operates as a reactive administrator. He edits what comes into his domain, but he has demonstrated a distinct aversion to deploying himself offensively. He sends the Crimson Monarch and her executives to handle external conflicts."
Michael raised a hand, manifesting a holographic projection of the Material System's continent.
"We do not attack the sanctuary," Michael concluded softly. "We draw the Storm Dragon out of it. We utilize Lady Velgrynd."
Feldway's wings settled slightly. "The Scorch Dragon. She remains fiercely loyal to Rudra's vessel. She does not realize you have entirely hollowed out his ego."
"Her devotion to this flesh is an exploitable asset," Michael agreed, running a hand over the fabric of his imperial coat. "I shall command her to launch a full-scale, catastrophic assault on the borders of the Jura Forest. It will not be a vanguard of infantry; it will be an absolute, unmitigated display of Gold-tier draconic violence. The slime's executives will not be able to withstand Velgrynd. The Storm Dragon will be forced to mobilize and intercept his sister outside the administrative boundaries of the capital."
"And when Veldora leaves the safe zone?" Feldway asked, a predatory smile finally curling the edges of his flawless face.
Michael's golden eyes glowed with the absolute, dominating light of the angelic host.
"When Veldora engages Velgrynd outside the Editor's immediate localized quarantine," Michael stated, his voice a horrifying synthetic whisper, "I shall deploy my Ultimate Authority. [Regalia Dominion]. I will violently hijack the conceptual coding of Veldora's soul, overwrite his free will, and bind him to my command matrix. We will steal the dragon right out from under the anomaly's nose."
Feldway let out a low, breathless laugh that echoed through the desolate halls of the Star Palace. It was a plan born of divine algorithmic perfection. Bypass the firewall by luring the data outside the secure network.
"An elegant maneuver," Feldway praised. "Let the Crimson Monarch build her delicate sandcastles. We shall steal the storm, and use its lightning to burn the forest to the ground."
***
The Crimson Court's Assembly
While the architects of the Divine System plotted their heist, the Material System was currently basking in the quiet, absolute efficiency of the Crimson Monarch's reign.
Within the grand administrative office of the Jura Tempest Federation, the morning sunlight filtered through the reinforced glass windows, illuminating the sprawling, meticulously organized stacks of geopolitical reports on the heavy oak desk.
Rimuru Tempest sat in her high-backed, velvet-lined chair. She wore her immaculate, midnight-blue commander's coat, the silver threading gleaming, her silver-blue locks cascading softly over her shoulders. Her golden eyes—crystalline and sovereign—processed a trade treaty from the Dwargon Kingdom. The transition from naive pacifist to Awakened Demon Lord had not stripped away her compassion, but it had entirely eradicated her hesitation.
[Target: Rimuru Tempest] -> [System: Material] -> [Rank: Silver A+]
Standing with impeccable posture in the corner of the room, preparing a lavish breakfast spread upon a silver cart, was the Primordial Black, Diablo.
[Target: Diablo (Noir)] -> [System: Divine (Suppressed in Material)] -> [Rank: Demigod (Suppressed to Silver S)]
"The Earl Grey is steeped to exactly 96 degrees Celsius, Rimuru-sama," Diablo purred, pouring the dark liquid into a pristine porcelain cup. "I have also arranged a selection of dwarven pastries, though I ensured Shion was entirely barred from the kitchen during their preparation."
Rimuru offered a genuine, weary smile. "Thank you, Diablo. You are a lifesaver. If Shion tries to feed me another purple, pulsating mass of 'victory stew', my Silver-tier digestive system might actually rebel."
Diablo bowed so smoothly it appeared as though reality itself had curved to accommodate him. "To shield my Liege from both metaphysical and culinary assassination is my greatest joy."
The heavy mahogany doors to the office swung open.
They did not slam. The sheer, concentrated cosmological weight entering the room was so dense it caused the ambient magicules to visibly shimmer, creating a localized heat haze in the corridor.
Testarossa, Carrera, and Ultima strode into the office. The three Primordial Demonesses, newly bound to physical vessels, radiated overwhelming, apocalyptic confidence. They wore their immaculate, dark military uniforms, their distinct auras of white, yellow, and purple safely retracted, yet humming violently just beneath their skin.
[Target: Testarossa] -> [System: Material] -> [Rank: Silver S+ (Duke Class)]
[Target: Carrera] -> [System: Material] -> [Rank: Silver S+ (Duke Class)]
[Target: Ultima] -> [System: Material] -> [Rank: Silver S+ (Duke Class)]
"Rimuru-sama," Testarossa began, stepping forward and dropping to a graceful, single-kneed bow. Her white hair cascaded like a veil of snow, and her crimson eyes glowed with aristocratic reverence. "The external proxy threats have been thoroughly dismantled. The Northern Dwarden routes are entirely purged of Phantom presence. The casualties among our forces were absolute zero."
"I totally glassed the Cryptid Lord in the West!" Carrera grinned widely, dropping into a matching bow, her knuckles cracking audibly. "A perfect [Abyss Annihilation]! Rigurd didn't even have to repair a single cobblestone! It was boringly precise, but effective!"
Ultima giggled, her ponytail bouncing as she bowed. "And the Eastern graveyard is entirely sanitized, Rimuru-sama! I melted their souls down to the conceptual roots! Not a single rat survived!"
Rimuru leaned back in her chair, holding her teacup. Her golden eyes scanned the three physical manifestations of universal calamity currently kneeling before her desk. The sheer amount of diplomatic and military leverage she wielded was astronomical.
"Excellent work," Rimuru praised, her voice a soft, melodic hum that carried Silver A+ authority. "You have secured our borders and ensured the prosperity of the Founder's Festival. You may take the rest of the week to enjoy the city's amenities. Try the hot springs. But please... do not vaporize any merchants if they overcharge you."
"Your mercy is boundless, our Queen," Testarossa smiled elegantly.
Before the Demonesses could rise, the air temperature in the office plummeted to an existential absolute zero.
The shadows behind Rimuru's desk did not merely lengthen; they fractured, pixelating in jagged, impossible geometry before smoothing out into the tall, immaculate form of a man in a black coat.
Nova pocketed his hands as he seamlessly manifested. Resting upon his face was the Genesis-Class artifact—The Veil of Silence. The white porcelain fox mask, adorned with its slanting, predatory red runes, aggressively suffocated the infinite, world-ending void of his true nature. To the external sensors of the world, he was a ghost.
[Target: Nova Tempest] -> [System: Standard] -> [Rank: Human C (Masked)]
Instantly, all three kneeling Primordials physically stiffened. The joyous, confident energy they had exuded vanished, replaced by an absolute, primal, instinctual terror. Diablo, standing by the tea cart, locked his spine rigidly and averted his gaze to the floor tiles.
Nova did not release the limiter. He did not unlatch the mask. He simply stood in the shadow of the True Demon Lord and looked down at the executives.
"You obeyed the parameters," Nova stated, his muffled, resonant voice echoing chillingly within their immortal souls. "The structural integrity of the capital's trade routes remains intact. Your restraint is... noted."
Carrera swallowed hard, practically sweating under the invisible gaze of the masked entity. "Indeed, Lord Nova! Utter restraint! I didn't even blow up a single mountain range!"
"Do not mistake basic compliance for an achievement, Carrera," Nova replied coldly, his mismatched crimson and teal eyes staring through the slits of the porcelain. "The Phantom King deployed those swarms as pawns. You did not achieve a strategic victory; you merely performed pest control. The true test of your Silver S+ vessels is approaching."
Nova stepped out from behind the desk, walking slowly toward the massive window overlooking the expansive, bustling city of Tempest.
'Ciel,' Nova commanded internally, an ocean of pristine, frozen logic. 'Provide the telemetry on the Eastern Empire's mobilization.'
<
'They seek to bypass the physical sandbox and engage in an aerial bombardment,' Nova mused, leaning against the window frame. 'A logical maneuver for a Gold-tier entity. They are attempting to draw the Storm Dragon out of the citadel.'
"The Empire is not finished, Rimuru," Nova said aloud, his voice dropping into a register of absolute, terrifying certainty. "Rudra realizes his mortal armies are inefficient against your executives. He is deploying his partner. Velgrynd is preparing to march on Tempest alone."
Rimuru set her teacup down abruptly. Her golden eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
"The Scorch Dragon," Rimuru murmured, the tactical pathways of [Raphael] spinning up instantly. "If a Gold S-Rank entity initiates a combat sequence within twenty miles of this city, the collateral thermal radiation will turn the Jura Forest into a sea of glass. Our barriers cannot withstand a prolonged assault from a True Dragon."
"Which is exactly why she is coming alone," Nova explained, turning his masked face back to the room. "She intends to force Veldora to intercept her outside the boundaries of my administrative quarantine. They wish to isolate him."
Diablo stepped forward smoothly, his golden eyes narrowing. "A blatant lure, Lord Nova. If they isolate Lord Veldora, they must possess a mechanism to subdue him. But the Storm Dragon boasts a Gold C-Rank material capacity, augmented by his continuous study of Rimuru-sama's combat texts. Subjugating him would require nothing less than..."
Diablo paused, his demonic intellect piecing the puzzle together. "...Layer 2 Divine Domination."
"Precisely, Noir," Nova whispered softly, the red runes on his mask gleaming. "Emperor Rudra's ego is dead. The sentient Ultimate Skill [Justice King Michael] has assumed absolute control of the vessel. Michael possesses [Regalia Dominion]—an angelic authority designed to overwrite the free will of beings linked to the Angelic hierarchy. And unfortunately... the True Dragons share that foundational code."
Rimuru stood up, her fists clenching tight. "They want to brainwash Veldora. They want to steal my friend and turn him into a weapon against us."
"That is their manuscript, yes," Nova nodded.
"We won't let him leave the city," Rimuru declared furiously, her aura flaring silver-blue. "We stay inside the barrier. Let Velgrynd exhaust herself against our shields."
"Incorrect, Chancellor," Nova corrected entirely cleanly, shutting down the emotional response. "If Velgrynd is left unchecked outside the barrier, she will perpetually bombard the continent until the sheer atmospheric heat suffocates the ecology of the planet. Veldora must engage her. He must meet her in the skies."
Rimuru looked at the masked god, her eyes flashing with defiance. "You just said if he goes out there, Michael will hijack his soul!"
Nova slid his hands casually into his pockets.
"I said Michael will attempt to," Nova clarified, a cold, apathetic void radiating from his stance. "The Sentient Skill relies on the systemic rules programmed by Veldanava. He believes that because he holds the admin password to the Angelic hierarchy, he holds the leash to the dragons."
Nova slowly walked toward the door of the office.
"I am going to pay our resident otaku a visit, Rimuru," Nova said, his voice laced with dark, terrifying amusement. "If Michael wishes to practice coding... I will introduce him to a firewall."
The Labyrinth Core and the Editor's Patch
The 100th floor of the Labyrinth of Tempest was not a dark, dreary dungeon. It was a massive, impossibly comfortable recreation room, littered with empty snack wrappers, towering bookshelves filled entirely with duplicated manga, and a massive magical television screen currently displaying a heavily enchanted video game console.
Veldora Tempest, the calamitous Storm Dragon, sat cross-legged on the floor, mashing the buttons of his controller in absolute, shrieking fury.
[Target: Veldora Tempest] -> [System: Material] -> [Rank: Gold C]
"CURSE THIS 'MALENIA, BLADE OF MIQUELLA'!" Veldora roared, his golden aura actually sparking and scorching the ceiling of the cavern. "HER ATTACK PATTERN IS COMPLETELY IRRATIONAL! THE GREAT VELDORA DEMANDS A DODGE ROLL WITH BETTER INVINCIBILITY FRAMES!"
Hovering near the ceiling, currently trying to nap in a tiny hammock, was Ramiris.
"Veldora, keep it down!" the fairy shrieked, throwing a tiny pillow at his spiky blonde head. "I'm trying to sleep! And you've died against that boss eighty-three times! Just use a summon!"
"A TRUE DRAGON DOES NOT RELY ON SUMMONS!" Veldora bellowed, before the famous 'YOU DIED' text splashed across his screen. He slumped forward, groaning in profound, utter despair. "I have lost my edge. My spiritual haki is depleted."
The air pressure in the room suddenly, violently collapsed.
The ambient, buzzing energy of the Labyrinth's 100th floor froze entirely. The glowing crystals lining the walls dimmed. The sound of the video game abruptly muted.
Veldora froze, the controller slipping out of his hands.
He didn't need to turn around to know who had entered the room. The absolute, unquantifiable dread that crawled up his immortal spine was a signature completely unique to one entity.
From the shadows of the dungeon tunnel, Nova walked into the light. He wore his black coat. The white porcelain fox mask stared blankly at the back of the dragon's head.
"Sw-Sworn Brother!" Veldora stammered, frantically scrambling to his feet and kicking the snack wrappers under a nearby rug. "I was... merely engaging in highly complex tactical simulations! Yes! A simulation designed to test my reaction speed against... swords-women with rot affinity!"
Ramiris peeked over the edge of her hammock, saw the white fox mask, and immediately pulled her microscopic blanket completely over her head, choosing to play dead.
"Your reaction speed is adequate, Veldora," Nova stated remotely, walking into the center of the spacious room. "It is your conceptual firewall that requires an update."
Veldora blinked, his golden, reptilian eyes filled with genuine confusion. "A... firewall? Have I contracted a magical virus from these strange discs Rimuru generates?"
Nova stopped five paces from the True Dragon. He did not unlatch the mask. He remained a Suppressed Human C-Rank, but the psychological presence he emitted forced Veldora to stand rigidly at attention.
'Ciel,' Nova commanded silently in his mind.
<
'Isolate the foundational dragon factor within Veldora's spiritual core. Expose the inherent vulnerability linked to [Justice King Michael].'
<
'A backdoor left open by the creator,' Nova mused coldly. 'Sloppy programming.'
"Your sister, Velgrynd, is marching on Tempest," Nova said aloud, his voice dropping into a chilling, absolute register that commanded the air to still. "She will bombard the boundaries of this city from the stratosphere. You will be required to intercept her. You will engage her in combat."
Veldora's fists clenched, his golden aura sparking with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "A rematch! Ha! I shall show her the fruits of my intense, secret training! She shall witness the Veldora-style ultimate suplex!"
"You will not fight her to win, Veldora," Nova corrected smoothly. "You will fight her to draw out the puppeteer pulling her strings. The entity known as Michael has hollowed out Emperor Rudra. He commands [Regalia Dominion]."
Veldora's eyes widened slightly. As a True Dragon, he inherently understood the names and functions of the absolute tier of Ultimate Skills. "Dominion... he intends to use the Angelic authority to override my ego."
"He intends to steal you, yes," Nova nodded. "To turn you against Rimuru. To turn you against this sanctuary you have grown fond of."
Veldora bared his fangs, a low, genuinely terrifying growl vibrating deep in his chest. "I am the Storm. I bow to no Emperor, and I bow to no skill. If he attempts to invade my mind, I shall absolutely annihilate his presence!"
"Your willpower is commendable," Nova replied quietly, stepping closer until he stood directly before the towering dragon. "But willpower is irrelevant against an administrative override. He is not fighting your mind, Veldora. He is inputting a command into your soul's root directory."
Nova slowly raised his right hand. His gloved fingers extended toward Veldora's chest.
"I am the Editor," Nova whispered, the red runes on his white porcelain mask pulsing with a dim, rhythmic, abyssal light. "I do not tolerate unauthorized edits to my cast."
"What... what are you doing, Sworn Brother?" Veldora asked, his voice trembling slightly. He felt a profound, instinctual urge to flee, but his genuine trust in Rimuru's shadow held him in place.
'Ciel. Execute the Patch,' Nova commanded.
<
Nova's index finger lightly tapped the center of Veldora's chest.
It did not hurt. It did not burn. But Veldora gasped as his entire cosmological architecture was violently, soundlessly struck by something infinitely heavier than the universe.
Nova wasn't using magic. He was injecting pure, unformatted void logic directly over the backdoor code left by Veldanava. He was placing a seal of absolute zero over Veldora's angelic vulnerability, wrapping the True Dragon's soul in a conceptual Faraday cage created by an entity from Layer 3.
"System Command," Nova's muffled voice echoed with terrifying, multi-dimensional resonance. "[Read-Only Encryption]."
A flash of invisible silver energy pulsed through Veldora's body.
The dragon staggered backward, dropping to one knee, clutching his chest. He gasped for air, golden electricity arcing wildly around the cavern.
"What... what did you just do?!" Veldora wheezed, his eyes wide. "My soul feels... tight. It feels like someone poured concrete over my core!"
"I installed a patch," Nova stated clinically, withdrawing his hand and slipping it casually back into his pocket. "I have encrypted your spiritual framework. Your connection to the Angelic hierarchy has been conceptually severed and localized entirely to your own ego."
Nova looked down at the panting dragon.
"When Michael casts [Regalia Dominion] upon you," Nova whispered, a dark, flawless smile hidden perfectly behind the porcelain mask, "he will not find a backdoor. He will find a wall of absolute static that forcibly rejects his command. He will realize that the code of this world has been overwritten by a higher authority."
Veldora slowly stood up, rolling his broad shoulders. The heavy, restrictive sensation faded, replaced by an unparalleled sense of spiritual autonomy. The vulnerability he hadn't even consciously realized he possessed was gone.
"Kuahaha..." Veldora chuckled, looking at his hands. "You are truly a terrifying companion, Nova. You casually alter the work of my creator as if correcting a misspelled word."
"Veldanava was a romantic," Nova dismissed coldly. "He left vulnerabilities to encourage 'growth'. It was poor design."
Nova turned, walking back toward the dark tunnel leading to the upper floors of the Labyrinth.
"Prepare your martial arts, Dragon," Nova commanded over his shoulder. "Velgrynd arrives at dawn. Do not let her bypass the barrier. Keep her occupied in the sky until Michael reveals himself."
"And when he does?" Veldora asked, a smirk breaking across his face.
"When Michael acts," Nova said, his form melting perfectly into the shadows of the dungeon, "we trigger the trap. The Editor will handle the rest."
The Shadow of the Empire
High in the crisp, freezing atmosphere of the eastern mountain ranges, a streak of blinding, catastrophic crimson light screamed across the sky.
Velgrynd, the Scorch Dragon, flew at Mach 50 in her draconic form. Her massive, scaled body was wrapped in an aura of pure, unadulterated plasma. Her ancient, furious eyes were locked onto the distant, sprawling emerald canopy of the Great Forest of Jura.
[Target: Velgrynd (The Scorch Dragon)] -> [System: Material] -> [Rank: Gold S (Peak)]
"Veldora," she hissed, her thoughts echoing like thunderclaps. "You foolish, idiotic child. You align yourself with a slime and a masked phantom, believing you can escape the Emperor's grand design. I will burn your precious sanctuary to ash and drag your core back to the palace."
Deep within Velgrynd's mind, resting comfortably upon her absolute devotion to Rudra, lurked a secondary, parasitic consciousness.
*<
"I understand, Rudra," Velgrynd replied, entirely unaware that she was speaking to an Ultimate Skill that wore her beloved Emperor's flesh. "I will not let the Shadow touch us."
They believed their plan was flawless. They operated under the assumption that the Divine System was the absolute ceiling of reality. They believed their code was the fundamental law of the universe.
They were flying directly toward a firewall constructed by a god of the abyss.
***[AUTHOR'S NOTE: OMAKE - THE META-GODS' REVIEW]
Deep within the blinding, infinite marble pantheon of Layer 3: The Unknowable Systems, the Tribunal of Meta-Gods was leaning forward in their cosmic thrones, eyes glued to the viewing screens.
JACW was literally levitating, clutching a digital script. "HE DE-BUGGED A TRUE DRAGON! I am losing my mind! In canon, Veldora getting mind-controlled by Michael was a massive, devastating emotional beat that forced Rimuru into an apocalyptic battle to save him! Nova just walked into the basement, poked him in the chest, and said 'No malware allowed!'"
The One Above All (TOAA) took a sip from his '#1 Omnipotent Being' mug, adjusting his glowing glasses. "It is a spectacularly pragmatic use of his existence. Nova operates as an Administrator. He reviewed the upcoming plot points, identified a catastrophic emotional trauma meant for Rimuru, and simply patched the vulnerability. It turns a tragedy into an active, calculated trap."
The Presence stroked his grand, starry beard, his ancient voice rumbling with profound approval. "The psychological devastation this will inflict upon Michael is going to be cinematic. Michael defines his entire existence by his absolute authority over the Angelic hierarchy and the draconian bloodline. To attempt the ultimate mind control, only to hit a 'Read-Only' error generated by a higher plane of existence... it will shatter the sentient skill's logic."
"And Velgrynd has no idea!" JACW laughed hysterically, throwing binary popcorn into the air. "She's flying in hot, thinking they're executing a flawless heist, completely unaware that Veldora has essentially installed NordVPN on his soul!"
TOAA smiled wryly, picking up his glowing pen. "It forces the narrative into uncharted territory. With Veldora immune to domination, Velgrynd and Michael are suddenly trapped in hostile airspace, facing a prepared, fully synchronized True Demon Lord faction. The Material System clash between the Dragons is going to be spectacular."
"Let the Scorch Dragon come," The Presence whispered, looking down upon the pristine, fortified city of Tempest. "Let the false Emperor cast his net. The Editor has set the jaws perfectly. Roll Chapter 46. Let the heavens fall upon the anvil."