Thea cleared her throat and pointed to the two-dimensional world painted on the dragon-skin scroll.
Lady Styx quickly collected herself. Participating in the creation of a world—even a supporting role in it—would be an immeasurable treasure for her own growth.
All four eyes opened to their widest. Every ounce of psychic power mobilized. She reached toward the earth inside the two-dimensional world, attempting to commune with it.
She studied the world at the same time.
There was earth. Ore. Rivers. And most importantly, light and time.
She had no way of knowing that Lao had died inside the 2D world by a strange twist of fate. She couldn't understand how Thea had managed to seal a fragment of time within it—that went beyond what "extraordinary power" could even describe.
What's more, the enormous accumulation of energy had given the 2D world its own sun.
The world was flat—heaven was round, the earth was square, the sun rose in the east and set in the west, nothing like the orbits and rotations of the actual universe. But that was fine. It could be refined over time.
Lady Styx strained until her face flushed red, pressing hard to connect with the soil inside the 2D world.
Thea watched, slightly tense.
"I can't—my power is too strong. The world is pushing me back." After a full ten minutes she set down the scroll, looking thoroughly shaken.
"Ah, no problem. Try again." Thea said, giving her a light pat on the back.
Lady Styx instantly felt as though nine-tenths of her ocean-vast psychic power had been sliced away. What remained was barely a trickle.
Am I really this weak? You can just cap my ability so casually? She could do nothing but attempt the connection again.
This time it took even longer. Grodd, who had started out standing at attention, eventually sat down—and finally just lay flat on the ground.
"It still won't work. My ability has some gaps. If I could just break through one more bottleneck... perhaps then..." Lady Styx noticed Thea's expression had gone still—an icy stare fixed directly on her—and trailed off, managing barely to finish the sentence.
Then she waited like a defendant awaiting sentencing, taut with anxiety.
Thea's clear gaze swept across her throat. Lady Styx broke into a cold sweat.
How difficult it was to create life—Thea understood this better than most.
Life from nothing. A new world from nothing. Even Lucifer—God's own son, carrying half of God's power—found it formidable. He'd had to work together with Michael just to build a world; neither could manage it alone.
Expecting overnight results was simply too much to ask of anyone. Thea was not unreasonable—she understood that. But a long-lived being was different from someone like Fiona, Grodd, or Kerrigan. Lady Styx had lived too long and had too many tricks. A timely reminder now and then was only sensible.
Lady Styx had enough psychic power in quantity; the quality wasn't there yet. Perhaps when those brow-eyes fully developed—that would mark the true completion of her psychic ability. Thea was sharp enough to hear exactly what Lady Styx had left unsaid.
But the problem was that Lady Styx was angling to negotiate—trying to trade her compliance for the secret to fast-tracking her psychic development. That was a different matter entirely.
I give you the opportunity; that's my prerogative. You don't get to turn it down. I don't give it; you have no standing to ask.
Different positions. Different footing. Thea could write down three versions of a psychic advancement method off the top of her head—but not for this, and not now.
"Leave this scroll with you for the time being. I'll be staying on this planet a little longer—find yourself a place." She gave the instruction like she owned the place, then stepped forward and disappeared into the air.
Fiona and Grodd didn't spare her a glance. They each turned and walked away.
Lady Styx wanted to bolt. But with ninety percent of her power still sealed, what could she do with what remained? She wouldn't make it a single light-year (about 5.88 trillion miles / 9.46 trillion km) before her own subordinates killed her, took her head, and traded it somewhere for a reward.
Keeping her composure, she returned to her base and called her people together—she needed to know what these visitors were actually here for.
Her subordinates all gave the same answer: these people came to watch the gladiatorial fights.
"Really? No personal score to settle?" Lady Styx was skeptical. She knew exactly what her people got up to—surely it wasn't your reckless behavior that earned someone's vengeance?
"Nothing, nothing, I swear it!" They all swore up and down. We may have gotten up to no end of trouble, but absolutely none of it involves that person.
Hearing it wasn't a personal grudge, Lady Styx let out a long breath. But then she heard that the visitors had come specifically for the arena—traveling from Sector 2814 all the way to Sector 313, crossing half the universe—and a thought took shape that she wasn't sure she should voice.
If they had a clear purpose, that was manageable. The terrifying thing would be having no purpose at all.
You like gladiatorial games? Fine. I'll give you more than you can handle. Watch until you're sick of it.
Afraid of being seen through, Lady Styx's first order of business was to dispatch her subordinates—especially the unruly, insubordinate ones who normally ignored her authority entirely—to go and round up new gladiators from across the sector.
On top of that, she transferred fighters from every other arena on the planets under her control, pulling them all here.
No more three-day minor bouts and five-day major events. It was full-scale death-matches, every single day. Gates thrown open. More than a hundred fighters pouring out at once into pure chaos.
She'd rather burn the gladiatorial business to the ground than let this particular divine visitor overstay her welcome.
Day after day of death-fights—the stench of blood hung over the arena constantly. Cartloads of remains hauled out every evening. The relentless consumption of gladiators sent the audience's fervor soaring.
A genuine spectacle. Crowds packed to the rafters, banners flying, drums thundering from every direction.
Thea acknowledged all of it with gracious thanks. And she lifted the seal on Lady Styx's power. Her explanation: she'd left in a hurry last time and simply forgot.
To make sure Lady Styx fully understood the landscape, Thea also brought Kerrigan over for an introduction.
The Zerg occupied two sectors—which sounded like less, but it wasn't. Those two sectors were under total occupation. Not a blade of grass remained on any planet within them. Lady Styx might claim dominion over seven sectors, but she operated more like a league chieftain: tributary planets sent offerings on holidays, everyone ran their own affairs day-to-day, and she provided the protection. In terms of forces she could actually mobilize directly, she came out weaker than the Swarm.
The two had never met, but both had heard of the other. After some careful mutual testing, Lady Styx finally got the picture: the Zerg were Thea's subordinates.
Outmatched in both power and reach, Lady Styx became noticeably more cooperative. In her spare time, she took up studying the 2D world on the scroll.
At first she didn't even watch the gladiatorial bouts—every fighter who died was money out of her pocket. Eventually she decided it didn't matter anymore. She'd already thrown her money into the fire; she might as well at least hear it crackle. She started watching with Thea and the others.
With this kind of death rate, Thea found herself developing genuine insight into it. What drove so many fighters to launch a final counterattack at the very moment of death? A love of life—specifically, their own.
Observing all of it—the people, the moments—her divine seat of Death grew steadily more solid. Progress was slow, perhaps, but far less effort than going out to kill personally. Besides, she wasn't in any particular hurry about ten days or a half month.
She sat there sipping fruit juice sourced from nearby planets, letting a few small alien creatures—they looked remarkably like rabbits—knead her shoulders and legs, Grodd loyally fanning her from the side, watching the crowd below do their level best to end each other—while her cultivation quietly climbed.
Life was good.