crown of self-interest

Zaros Valen stood at the pinnacle of his dark tower, gazing out over Verathen. The winds howled against the stone, carrying with them the whispers of distant lands and civilizations. The world was shifting, trembling under the weight of his actions, and he could feel it. His once steady heart now pulsed with the anticipation of what was to come.

The Council of Elders had been nothing more than the first obstacle—mere pawns in a game far larger than they could have ever understood. But now, with their blood on his hands, Zaros’s path had become clear, unclouded by any lingering hesitation or doubt. He had taken the first step toward his ultimate goal.

His gaze turned north, where the distant lands of the Skyward Cities floated above the world, their glistening towers symbols of Aetheric mastery. To the south lay the Verdant Communion, their lush forests pulsating with symbiotic magic. Each of these factions represented power, and Zaros needed them all.

But **power alone was not enough**. He had learned that bitter lesson once before, when he had failed to protect the woman he had loved, when he had been too weak to save her from the hands of death. It was not just about controlling nations or weaving the threads of magic into domination. No, Zaros needed **absolute power**—the kind that transcended mortality, time, and fate. The kind that would grant him the ability to rewrite the very laws of existence.

His goal was **ascension**. He no longer sought to merely rule over Verathen or even the continents of this world. Zaros desired to become something more—something godlike. But to ascend, to achieve such godhood, Zaros had to unlock the most forbidden and dangerous of secrets. He had already mastered the arcane and necromantic arts. He had shattered the minds of his enemies and bent armies to his will. Yet that was not enough.

There was one power that remained out of his grasp, one realm of magic that defied even his vast understanding: **the Void of Impossibilities**, the Abyss itself. In that realm, beyond the edges of time and space, lay the answer he sought. The Abyss was a realm where the rules of the universe no longer applied, where reality could be shaped by sheer will alone. But to harness its power would mean opening a door that even the most reckless of sorcerers dared not approach.

Zaros had already prepared for this. For years, he had studied the ancient tomes, the forbidden texts that spoke of the Void and its terrifying secrets. But mere knowledge would not be enough to unlock its potential. He would need a **conduit**, a living being who could guide him into the Void and survive its chaotic forces.

His thoughts turned to Rielin, who lay recovering from the grievous wounds she had suffered in his defense. She was strong—stronger than he had ever imagined. But more than that, she shared a resemblance to the woman he had loved and lost. She, too, had become his weakness. In the silence of his chambers, Zaros allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability as he thought of Rielin. Despite his cold exterior, there was a part of him that feared losing her as he had lost his love.

He could not afford to grow attached. Not now. Not when he stood on the cusp of becoming more than any man could dream.

The time for subtlety was over. Zaros’s next move would be decisive, and it would send shockwaves through the world, forcing every kingdom, every faction, to bow before him or be destroyed. He would use Verathen’s arcane resources to **open the gateway to the Abyss**, but he would need more. The power of the Abyss required immense sacrifices, both in magic and in life.

For his ascension, he needed **artifacts** of immense power—relics scattered across the world in the most hidden and dangerous places. Each continent had something he desired:

- From the **Skyward Cities**, he would claim the **Eye of the Aether**, a crystalline relic capable of channeling the purest form of magical energy.

- In the **Verdant Communion**, he would harvest the essence of the **Elder Tree**, a living source of primordial power.

- From the depths of the **Sunken Empire**, he would seize the **Heart of the Abyssal Sea**, a fragment of the deep that pulsed with dark, ancient magic.

- And in the **Iron Dominion**, Zaros sought the **Sigil of Dominion**, a relic forged in the heart of the world's greatest technomantic forge, capable of binding magic and technology in one.

Each of these artifacts would provide a key to unlocking the Abyss, but to retrieve them, Zaros would need to make enemies of every kingdom and faction in the world. There was no path to peace now—only war.

But this was not war for mere conquest or power. Zaros was not interested in ruling kingdoms. He would bring these civilizations to their knees, not to reign over them, but to **consume their strength** for his own ascension. The world was a tool, a means to an end. Zaros would not be satisfied until he had transcended mortality itself and become the one true master of reality.

He walked through the stone halls of his tower, each step echoing with purpose. His subordinates awaited him, each of them invaluable in their own right. The sorceress Arithia, with her mastery of illusion magic, had already begun spreading misinformation through Verathen’s ranks. The warlock Korthian, whose expertise in dark rites would prove useful when the time came to perform the final ritual, was waiting as well. And then there was **Sathariel**, the undead general who had fought alongside Zaros for centuries. His loyalty was unquestioned, and his command over the armies of the dead would be critical in the wars to come.

Zaros entered the war room, where his subordinates gathered, each one of them understanding that their master had set his sights on something far beyond the walls of Verathen.

“We move now,” Zaros said, his voice calm yet filled with cold resolve. “We will retrieve the relics of power, and we will use them to tear open the Abyss. No kingdom, no empire, no god will stand in our way.”

The room was silent, but the weight of his words was undeniable. The world was about to change, and the darkness that had once lingered in the shadows would now sweep across every land. Zaros had set his sights on godhood, and nothing—not even the Abyss itself—would stop him.

With the flick of his hand, Zaros summoned the first wave of his dark magic, sending forth his agents to begin the hunt for the relics. The time for planning was over. Now, it was time to take action.