The thing that rose from the pit defied every law of physics and good taste.
Nightmare Lord Azathul—Level 99, according to my system's increasingly frantic readings—was a writhing mass of eyes and tentacles that seemed to exist in too many dimensions at once. Each of its thousand pupils burned with the light of dying stars, and reality warped around its form like heated glass.
The pressure hit us like a physical blow. Lyra, fresh from her breakthrough, crumpled to her knees as blood poured from her eyes and nose. Marcus's enhanced skeleton creaked audibly as he fought to remain standing, his golden skin cracking under the cosmic weight.
"MORTALS," the entity spoke, its voice a symphony of madness that made the air itself scream. "YOU HAVE DISTURBED MY SLUMBER. FOR THIS TRANSGRESSION, I SHALL UNMAKE YOUR REALITY AND FEAST UPON THE ASHES OF YOUR CIVILIZATION."
Tentacles the size of subway trains erupted from the pit, each one crackling with enough energy to level a city block. The ancient god was preparing to do what ancient gods did best—commit genocide with style.
I checked my watch. Still had seventeen minutes left on my lunch break.
*System Alert: Extreme Threat Detected*
*Recommendation: Immediate Evacuation*
*Alternative Option: Full Power Mimicry Available*
*Warning: High Risk of Detection*
"Do it," I said quietly.
*Activating [Ultimate Bureaucratic Authority]*
*Temporary Identity: Entropy Council - Senior Auditor (Counterfeit)*
*Loading Administrative Protocols...*
*Caution: This simulation may attract unwanted attention*
The change was immediate and terrifying. A hundred-meter web of crimson data streams erupted from my back, each thread pulsing with the authority to rewrite reality at the conceptual level. My consciousness expanded, touching the edges of cosmic law itself. For a brief, intoxicating moment, I could feel the power to format entire civilizations like corrupted hard drives.
The temperature around me dropped to absolute zero. Not physically—this was the cold of entropy itself, the heat death of universes made manifest.
Azathul's reality-ending attack stopped three inches from my face, frozen in space like a photograph of the apocalypse.
"Interesting," I said, my voice carrying harmonics that made nearby concrete crumble. I pulled out a simple ballpoint pen—though in this state, it looked more like a weapon capable of editing the fundamental constants of physics.
"According to Universal High-Dimensional Entity Registration Act, Section 847-Omega," I continued, clicking the pen with the sound of collapsing stars, "you're operating without proper documentation."
The ancient god's thousand eyes focused on me with growing horror. The aura of absolute authority radiating from my form—the unmistakable signature of the Entropy Council—hit it like a cosmic freight train.
"No," Azathul whispered, its voice losing all its previous arrogance. "You're not... you can't be..."
"Senior Auditor designation 7749-X," I said, consulting a clipboard that materialized in my hand. "I'm here to conduct a routine assessment of non-compliant assets in this sector."
The data web behind me pulsed, and reality hiccupped. For just a moment, the ruined fortress, the crater, even the city beyond flickered like a glitched video file. The [Civilization Format] protocol was online, ready to reduce everything in a fifty-kilometer radius to raw information.
"I... I have a permit!" Azathul shrieked, its form beginning to collapse in on itself. "Somewhere! I know I filed the paperwork!"
"Temporary residence permit expired 4,847 years ago," I replied, making a note on my clipboard. "Unauthorized occupation of dimensional space. Unlicensed operation of psychic pollution. Failure to pay cosmic property taxes."
The ancient god—a being that had devoured galaxies and driven entire species to madness—began to hyperventilate.
"Please," it begged, its massive form shrinking as terror overwhelmed its cosmic ego. "I've been good! I haven't destroyed a single civilization in five hundred years! I've been reformed!"
"That's... actually noted in your file," I admitted, flipping through pages that wrote themselves. "However, you're still operating without proper documentation. The penalty for unlicensed existence is immediate asset liquidation."
Azathul's form collapsed entirely, condensing into a surprisingly ordinary-looking middle-aged man in a rumpled business suit. He threw himself at my feet, kowtowing with the desperation of someone facing cosmic deletion.
"Mercy! I'll pay! I'll pay everything I owe!"
I pretended to consider this, though internally I was fighting to maintain the mimicry. The system was burning through my mental reserves at an alarming rate, and I could feel cracks forming in the facade.
"Unpaid taxes, accumulated interest, and penalties," I said, my pen hovering over the clipboard. "Current balance: 847,000 years of accumulated nightmare essence, plus processing fees."
"Yes! Anything!" Azathul reached into his chest and began tearing out chunks of his own existence—crystallized terror, distilled madness, the pure essence of cosmic horror refined into something resembling currency. "Take it all! Just don't format me!"
*Assets Acquired: Nightmare Essence (Primordial Grade)*
*Quantity: 500 years of accumulated power*
*Value: Incalculable*
*Warning: Mimicry Stability at 23%*
"Acceptable," I said, pocketing the essence while trying not to show how much the effort was costing me. "However, you're still in violation of zoning laws. This area is designated for commercial use only."
"I'll leave! I'll find somewhere else—"
"Relocation costs would exceed your current assets," I interrupted. "However, I'm authorized to offer alternative arrangements. Indentured servitude to offset your debt."
Azathul's eyes lit up with pathetic hope. "You mean... I could work for the Council? Have actual employment status?"
"Probationary security position," I confirmed, making another note. "Minimum wage, no benefits, but it comes with legal residency status."
The ancient god—the Nightmare Lord, Devourer of Dreams, Bringer of Madness—began crying tears of joy.
"Thank you! Oh, thank you! I won't let you down, sir! I'll be the best security guard you've ever seen!"
*System Alert: CRITICAL WARNING*
*Entropy Council Scanning Protocols Detected*
*High-Dimensional Attention: FOCUSED ON YOUR LOCATION*
*Estimated Time to Contact: 23 hours, 47 minutes*
*Recommendation: PANIC*
The mimicry collapsed like a house of cards. The data web vanished, the cosmic authority evaporated, and I was suddenly just a very tired tax collector with a nosebleed and a cosmic horror for an employee.
"Well," I said, wiping blood from my face while trying to look like this had all been part of the plan, "welcome to the team."
Azathul—now looking like an eager middle manager—bowed deeply. "What are my duties, sir?"
"Guard the building. Keep the riffraff out. Try not to drive anyone insane unless they're behind on their payments."
"Understood! Should I start immediately?"
I looked around at the crater where a fortress used to be, then at Lyra and Marcus, who were staring at me like I'd just performed a magic trick involving the fundamental forces of creation.
"Actually," I said, "we might want to work on getting an actual building first. Hard to guard a hole in the ground."
That's when my phone buzzed. The caller ID made my blood run cold: "ENTROPY COUNCIL - COMPLIANCE DIVISION."
I stared at the screen as it rang, my mouth suddenly dry. Twenty-four hours ago, I'd been a nobody with a weird system and a dying sister. Now I had cosmic entities on speed dial and the universe's most feared bureaucracy actively hunting me.
"Boss?" Marcus asked nervously. "You gonna answer that?"
I looked at the phone, then at my assembled team—a reformed cosmic horror, an ex-divine enforcer, and a guy who'd been a low-level thug until yesterday. Not exactly the A-team, but they were mine.
"No," I said, declining the call and pocketing the phone. "Let them leave a voicemail. I'm busy."
The phone immediately started ringing again.
*System Alert: Incoming Audit*
*Estimated Arrival: 23 hours, 46 minutes*
*Survival Probability: 0.003%*
*Have a nice day*
I looked up at the storm clouds gathering overhead—not weather, but the universe itself preparing for what was coming. Somewhere in the higher dimensions, cosmic accountants were sharpening their pencils and preparing to audit my entire existence.
"You know what?" I said, my grin returning despite everything. "I think it's time we went legitimate. Can't have the real tax collectors showing up to an unlicensed operation."
The phone kept ringing, and in the distance, I could swear I heard the sound of reality being audited.
This was going to be interesting.