This realm was known as the dwelling place of the Zeldritch. Many across the worlds would call them monsters. Though here, they were simply another form of life, varied and often deeply learned.
Among them was Chancellor GamaGen, long regarded as a steward of cosmic knowledge.
His was not a lonely charge. To him, studying the threads of fate was no idle pastime, but a responsibility that honored all beings—whether they were called monstrous or mortal. Yet today, those threads were troubled, tangled in ways that called for quiet, patient unraveling.
His dwelling, a colosseum-like nest, floated in a fold of space-time he had gently shaped. Constellations drifted through it like lanterns set upon a calm sea, and strands of old light wove delicate patterns in the air, a living tribute to his ancestors, the Kravenox, who had cherished both art and understanding.
There, upon a perch of dark crystal, sat GamaGen. Towering and raven-like in silhouette, touched by draconic grace. Silver filaments trailed from his back, stirring with each subtle breath. Deep eyes, dark as eclipses, regarded the universe not with cold measure, but with a kind of enduring, careful compassion. Along his broad wings, faint lines of living script whispered softly—records of stories and lessons gathered across countless eras.
When he exhaled, reality itself seemed to listen. Yet nothing in his bearing sought to diminish the small or the fleeting. He wore his vastness lightly, ever aware that wisdom means little if it cannot meet others where they stand.
Thus did GamaGen keep his vigil: an ancient being, yes—one some would call a monster by virtue of shape alone—but whose purpose lay not in lording over the lesser, but in guiding them, quietly, with whatever counsel time and patience allowed.
"Let us begin."
[His first duty]: the Astral Codex.
With a measured sweep of his wing, a vast, translucent tome drifted into view. Its surface glowed with gentle light, inscribed in a script only the wisest Communicuties and the ancient Primordial Observers could truly read.
He studied its latest entries in silence.
§982.33.9 – Twelve fractals detected along the Riftlines near Primal Grid Alpha.
Unnatural flux patterns rising from the Nullwater Reaches.
Entities classified as 'Driftborn' Zeldritch mutating at 13% above baseline.
"Thirteen percent," GamaGen murmured, brow slightly furrowed. "Too rapid for natural drift. Something is pressing from beyond."
With care, he marked the anomaly using a plume dipped in Chrono-Ink, then traced a scrying glyph that extended his senses toward the disturbance. The space around him answered with a subtle bend. Not compelled by brute force, but guided by the quiet weight of his insight.
[His second duty]: the Communion of Worlds.
He perched upon the Warden's Ledge, overlooking a vast projection of living light. Thousands of luminous fragments—each representing a world, a system, a people—floated there in slow, graceful motion. From this high vantage, he kept watch over the Axis Worlds and the fragile Outer Slivers.
Before him gathered the council, their spectral visages attentive and still. They waited for his assessment without question.
"World-Thread 7H-Velron remains stable," he said at last. "Its tether holds. No sign of Void incursion."
He extended a claw toward another segment of the great map. "Solyx-3, however, shows strain. Its dimensional fabric is thin. I recommend we maintain a light hand. Direct intervention risks tearing the boundary beyond repair."
The visages dimmed slightly, a silent sign of agreement.
[His third duty]: teaching.
At First Reflection, younglings from Zeldritzon's rarer castes—rooklings just fledged, tender drakeling students, crystalline larvae curious beyond their years—gathered in his open atrium. Here, he offered lessons in restraint and stewardship.
You might imagine yourself there too—drawn by the gentle hush of this place, the way even the very air seemed to hold its breath in GamaGen's presence.
Upon his perch, wings half-furled, GamaGen surveyed them with that patient, shadowed gaze. The living script across his plumage glimmered, as though considering which truths to unfurl first.
"Tell me," he began, "what is the measure by which most would call you mighty?"
A timid drakeling lifted its head. "Is it… the APU, Master?"
GamaGen's nod was slight but approving. "Indeed. The Abyssal Power Unit. This is the chief token by which our world—perhaps all worlds that know conflict—gauges strength. When you feast upon crystals, or overcome your rivals, you draw this force into yourself. In time, these become your APeX, your accumulated experience of might."
His wing dipped, trailing filaments of silver that briefly shaped themselves into tiny, flickering echoes of battle. There, Zeldritch grappled and consumed shards of radiant ore.
"But strength is not a single note," he continued. "There is also what we name your TECH Power; or simply, TECH. This grows not from conquest, but from practice. Every moment you hone a skill, every breath spent mastering the delicate weave of particles that shape your claws, your roars, your guards… this refines your TECH."
A rookling unfurled tiny wings. "So if we only feast and fight, we grow our APU but not our TECH?"
"Not precisely," he smiled while shaking his head. "One who devours without training is a brute: potent for a moment but easily outwitted. One who trains without ever testing themselves may wither, untempered by true struggle. Thus, you must balance both."
His gaze swept over them.
"And how do we count our time in this realm?" he asked next, letting the question drift like pollen.
"By… Cycles!" chirped one of the larvae, voice high and chiming. "Each Cycle is like… a day, right?"
"A fitting likeness," GamaGen replied. "Each Cycle advances your age, unlocks subtle paths within your essence. Many Zeldritch track their growth by Cycles, awaiting the new thresholds of evolution that only time permits."
He extended a talon, and motes of pale gold spun outward, assembling into tiny crystalline shapes.
"These are your most constant companions. Crystals. From them, you draw the raw matter of your APU. They vary… some pulse with Voidlight and yield great bounty, others are small, bright morsels. Treat them with respect. Waste nothing."
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The crystals burst into glittering dust that drifted down, vanishing before it touched the ground.
For a moment, the young ones were silent, feeling the fragile hush of such truths.
Then GamaGen's wings rustled softly. "Now, attend well. Power, both APU and TECH, is the fruit of choices you will make again and again. How you spend your Cycles, which crystals you take, whom you challenge, whom you spare… these weave the tapestry of what you become."
A sneering kraken youngling dared a question. "Master, why not just claim power? What's the point of these rules?"
"Power," he told them with a hum, "is not found in what you can force upon others. It is found in what you understand… and in the choice to hold your hand when it would be easy to strike."
A small lindwurm raised a tentative claw. "But Master GamaGen, what if someone breaks the rules?"
His eyes softened. "Then you remain the rule. Let them exhaust themselves against your calm."
He then turned slightly outward, as if encompassing more than just the gathered young.
"Thus do I teach not only for these tender hearts, but for anyone who listens, even from shadows beyond my knowing. Learn well. Such understanding may yet keep you from ruin or gently guide you toward your rightful shape."
And with that, the lessons of APU, TECH, Cycles, and Crystals were carried off on the hush of the starlit hall. Then came the shift.
Not in the stones of his sanctum or in the currents of his nest, but deep in the weave of reality itself.
The Codex gave a low pulse. The Communion map shivered. One delicate point on the great pattern trembled. An anomaly without record, without anchor.
A nearby Communicutie floated closer. Its voice was low, edged with uncertainty.
"Sire... a human has arrived. No, two. Both altered."
GamaGen's eyes shone faintly, as though catching distant starlight. His reply came in a quiet breath.
"Earthborn... here?"
Without haste, he rose, feathers trailing thin strands of silver magic that curled like gentle rivers through the air.
"So it begins. Lord DeNultra stirs. His game is once again upon us."
And so he returned to the heart of his great nest, beneath moons that wavered like thoughts not fully formed and a sky that was more question than canvas, to summon the portals that would let him watch lives never meant to cross into this place. To peer into the threads of fate was, for GamaGen, neither idle pastime nor divine prerogative. It was duty. And today, the threads were tangled.
"A human. Turned monster. And not just any species... a Bilpefur," he hummed. "Fascinating. What purpose could DeNultra have in forging a Zeldritch from one not of this world? How very strange."
"Dariel." He accessed the subject's profile, an interface etched in runes and smoke, hovering before his gaze like a grim prophecy.
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Subject File: Dariel turned Bilpefur
Basic Information
? Species: [Bilpefur] (Human)
? Sobriquet: "Fur Pilfer"
? APeX Power: [21 Units]
? Evolution Stage: [Fledgling] (F)
? Variant Grade: [Common]
? Alignment: [Preda-Praieon]
? Attribute Influence: [Beast]
Character Skills: [Max Slots: 6]
1. [Claw Swipe]
? Description: A basic attack where Bilpefur slashes at its opponent with sharp claws.
- Type: Physical
- Damage: Moderate
- Effect: May cause minor bleeding, dealing additional damage over time.
2. [Fur Guard]
? Description: Bilpefur uses its thick fur coat to shield itself from attacks, reducing incoming damage.
- Type: Defensive
- Effect: Reduces incoming damage.
3. [Beast Roar]
? Description: Bilpefur lets out a fearsome roar that intimidates opponents, lowering their attack power.
- Type: Support
- Effect: Reduces the attack power of all enemies.
4. [Quick Step]
? Description: Bilpefur quickly steps to the side to evade an incoming attack.
- Type: Evasion
- Effect: Increases Bilpefur's evasion rate slightly.
5. [Pilfer]
? Description: Bilpefur attempts to steal an item or small amount of particles from an enemy.
- Type: Technical
- Effect: Has a 50% chance to steal a minor item or 1-2 APUs from the target.
6. [Pilfer Bite]
? Description: Bilpefur bites its opponent, attempting to steal a small amount of APUs.
- Type: Physical-Technical
- Damage: Minor
- Effect: Steals 1-2 APUs from the opponent if the attack is successful.
Resistances and Vulnerabilities
? Attribute Resistances: None
? Attribute Vulnerabilities: [Doom]
? Visual ID: Upright, fur-shrouded, under-evolved. Wild-eyed. Vaguely sad. Cognition intact.
? Brief Description: A bipedal, beast-like creature cloaked in thick fur.
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His many-ringed eyes flicked toward another portal. It broadcast a Merecritt confronting the Bilpefur in a frustrated manner—she was another human transformed into a monster. GamaGen found it peculiar: two humans, each originating from a bare-bone dimensional plane.
He knew them already. Dariel: a quiet maker of digital worlds, child of codes and concepts. And the girl—A: a fighter from a future ravaged by war and wire. Together, they formed a strange polarity.
"Communicutie," he said, addressing the floating orb at his side, "if you please, enhance this feed. Focus on the Bilpefur and the Merecritt. Their interaction may illuminate intent."
"At once, sire!"
The portal sharpened. Voices filtered through.
The Merecritt, sleek with midnight-black fur, was fierce. Mistrust dripped from her every word. "Damn it! I told you to back off!"
Dariel's form trembled slightly. "I'm not here to fight," he insisted, paws raised in appeal. "We're in the same predicament—maybe we should stick together."
She circled him, tail rigid, claws flexed.
"You know something," she snarled, "Don't you? Speak!"
Dariel flinched, but held his ground. "Well, I'm just as confused as you are. Just… chill. Like I said, I was originally a human like you. You're from another one, right? A world without magic. I programmed games. Lived in Seattle. Ate burgers. Had a crush on a girl named Lisa..."
Ah. Personal truths. A fragile currency in a land of monsters.
The Merecritt scoffed. "Enough. I don't need your biography."
Dariel blinked. "So... not an only child?"
She hesitated. Then, coldly: "I had a sister."
That grief—unhealed and raw—pulsed through her like a heartbeat.
GamaGen observed how the Bilpefur's eyes lit up, intrigued by the information the Merecritt shared with him.
"Wait, did? … Oh. I'm sorry. That's… I know it's not my business, but what happened to her, miss…?"
A's ears twitched as she glared at Dariel. She turned her head away from him. "It's 'A' to you. And if you follow me one more time, I swear I'll fucking end you."
She vanished into the trees, and Dariel stood there in the silence that followed, all awkward regret and dangling thoughts.
"I really need to mind my words," he said, too late.
GamaGen hummed, watching as the scene cut out. "So dissonant, these two. Yet there's harmony hidden in tension."
He lowered his head and smiled. "Archive this interaction, Communicutie."
"Yes, sire!" The orb saluted.
"Yes, Communicutie darling, I'd advise you to archive everything for my enjoyment," an indecipherable mass of darkness loomed above GamaGen's colosseum of a nest, architected by the sagely crow himself.
GamaGen straightened, folding his wings in reverence. "My Emperor Sovereign," he said. "What an unexpected honor."
The voice of DeNultra echoed like a chime warped through nightmares. "Peeking at my curiosities, are we, old bird?"
GamaGen bowed. "I apologize. Just curiosity, my lord. I mean no harm."
"Oh? Is that so? Then you shall continue to observe my playthings, yes? Now, dear sage, would you like to know what I have in store for our Bilpefur and Merecritt?"
GamaGen gave his lord a frown. "Indeed, Lord DeNultra, I would."
He glimpsed a portal reluctantly. "With all due respect, why them? You possess a world entire. Why harvest from beyond?"
A pause before laughter, a thunderous rumble echoing through the void. "Because they are different. They break rules without knowing they exist. That makes them... catalytic."
"And what, precisely, do you intend them to catalyze?"
"A new era," DeNultra hissed. "One shaped by chaos and curiosity. Is that not beautiful?"
He could only shake his head, knowing how erratic his lord could be.
"What's with the look, GamaGen? Displeased? Those mortals are better off here than in the afterlife." The darkness grinned. "Anyway, I want you to alter several rules for me. It would be in your best interest if you did."
"Denied, Lord DeNultra. I'm a stickler to the original rules inscribed by our ancestors. Altering them would only bring chaos to Zeldritzon." He cast an inscrutable number of dazzling glyphs around himself, barely a failsafe if DeNultra chose to strike.
"Please reconsider, my Emperor Sovereign. We cannot have our world become a chaotic one," his expression became grim, "Never again. I refused you the first time, I will do it again."
"Is that so?" Lord DeNultra's voice boomed throughout the realm, frightening the Communicuties, and they were quick to retreat from the vicinity by portal.
"That's unfortunate. I think it would be better if you disappeared. How does that sound, my dear sage? Does that sound delightful to you?"
Tendrils like blades of night lashed out, shattering the protections as though they were paper. They wrapped around him, dreary and suffocating.
GamaGen sighed. "I have lived long. And served well. Let my end, then, be yours to write."
"You old coot," the darkness growled, "Very well, I'll show you a great mercy. I'll make you sleep. Forever."
A surge of dark magic swept the air.
This is the end, isn't it?
He closed his eyes: May balance return… even if I do not.
The spell hit him.
Then there was nothing.
Communicuties.