[Null POV] Year 0, Day 2 (After the caravan massacre)

  Void turned his attention to the camp, tilting his head to listen to the shouting. His black eyes tracked the movements, the gestures, the body language. After a moment, a small smile appeared on his face.

  "Oh, Great One. It's quite simple, you see. They think you're a Dread Shade."

  "A what?"

  "A Dread Shade, Great One. A type of monster known in this world. The dwarves have identified you as one—incorrectly, I should note, but their reasoning is sound given what they've observed."

  "Explain. What is a Dread Shade, and why do they think I'm one?"

  Void gestured toward the two groups, his expression thoughtful. "Allow me to explain from the beginning, as you commanded. In this world, monsters—creatures of darkness, beasts, aberrations—kill for two primary reasons, and sometimes both simultaneously."

  "First: food. They hunt to eat, to survive. Second: entertainment. Some monsters kill for sport, for joy, for the thrill of the hunt. If a monster's belly is full and its target provides no entertainment, the monster will typically ignore potential prey entirely."

  "Simple enough."

  "Yes, Great One. This is taught to every child from an early age. When you encounter a monster, you have three options: fight, flee, or do nothing. Fighting is obvious—engage and try to kill it. Fleeing triggers the hunting instinct in many monsters, even those that weren't initially interested. But doing nothing—remaining still, quiet, uninteresting—sometimes the monster simply leaves. It finds you boring and moves on."

  "Wait-it-out strategy," Spy commented. "Clever."

  "Precisely. Now, a Dread Shade is a specific type of monster. They are creatures of darkness and shadow, with forms that are difficult to perceive—shifting, incomprehensible, wrong in a fundamental way that hurts mortal minds to observe. Does this sound familiar, Great One?"

  "That describes me, yes."

  "Dread Shades feed on fear and despair. They do not consume flesh—they consume emotions. Negative emotions, specifically. Terror, hopelessness, anguish. They amplify these feelings in their victims, driving people to madness, to violence against each other. The more fear generated, the more the Dread Shade feeds."

  Null felt the connection with Void pulse as understanding clicked into place. "That's exactly what happened tonight. The madness. The slaughter. You appeared in darkness, your form incomprehensible, and people went berserk killing each other while you fed on the death and fear. To anyone observing, you match every characteristic of a Dread Shade perfectly."

  "Except I'm not one."

  "No, Great One. You are something far more dangerous. But they don't know that. The dwarves have made a logical conclusion based on observed behavior."

  "So what's their plan?"

  "The dwarves are attempting the wait-it-out strategy. They believe that because their racial traits—their unity, their mental fortitude, their resistance to fear and mental influence—make them boring targets for a Dread Shade. You've already fed extensively tonight. Your hunger should be sated. And they provide no entertainment value because they don't break, don't panic, don't generate the fear you supposedly crave."

  "Therefore, they believe if they simply maintain their formation and wait, you will lose interest and leave. And if you don't leave immediately, you'll target the other group first—the ones who are panicking, who are generating fear, who are far more interesting prey."

  "That's... actually smart."

  "It is, Great One. It's a survival strategy that has saved many dwarf clans when facing Dread Shades and similar creatures. They're gambling that you'll take the easier, more entertaining meal and leave them alone."

  "And the other group?"

  "They are terrified, Great One. They understand the dwarves' strategy perfectly, and they know what it means for them. They are the 'entertaining meal' the dwarves are hoping you'll choose. So they're desperately trying to form some kind of unified defense, hoping that if they appear strong enough, organized enough, you'll decide neither group is worth the effort and leave entirely."

  "But there's a complication. Fighting a Dread Shade—or any creature of darkness—with conventional weapons is essentially impossible. Normal blades pass through shadow. Arrows are ineffective. Physical strength means nothing against something that isn't fully physical."

  "So how do you kill them?"

  "Holy magic, Great One. Divine power. Light-based enchantments. Blessed weapons. Healing magic—ironically, healing spells that restore life can harm creatures that embody death and darkness. These are the only reliable ways to damage a Dread Shade."

  "And let me guess," Spy interjected through their connection. "All the priests are with the dwarves."

  "Exactly correct. There are four priests among the dwarf formation—low-level, barely more than initiates, but they possess some divine magic. The other group has none. No priests, no holy warriors, no blessed items. They are gathering whatever they can—healing potions that might harm you if thrown, torches and lanterns that might provide some light-based protection, anything with even minor holy or light enchantments."

  "They're desperate."

  "Extremely, Great One. Without divine support, they have almost no chance against what they believe you to be. They're screaming at the dwarves to join the fight, to lend them the priests, to form a unified front. They know that if the dwarves simply wait you out, they'll be slaughtered."

  "And the dwarves?"

  "Are refusing. They believe their strategy is sound. They're not risking their priests—their only real weapons—on a fight they don't need to have. If you attack the other group, they'll maintain their position and hope you leave after feeding. If you attack them, then they'll fight with everything they have. But they won't commit until absolutely necessary."

  Void paused, then added with quiet certainty: "Though I should note, Great One—given the power I now possess from your seed, I don't believe I have anything to fear from them. Their priests, their weapons, their desperate strategies... none of it concerns me. And if I, your servant, have been granted such strength... then you, Great One, must be so far beyond their comprehension that their entire conflict is meaningless. Those four low-level priests? Their holy magic might scratch me. Against you? I doubt they could do anything at all. The 'unified defense' of the other group? Irrelevant. You could end this entire camp in moments if you chose."

  "They're arguing over survival strategies against a threat they fundamentally don't understand. They think they're facing a known monster. They have no idea they're dealing with something that broke Heaven itself."

  Null processed this, watching the two groups continue their standoff. The dwarves in their tight formation, weapons ready but patient. The mixed group growing more frantic, waving torches and makeshift holy symbols, shouting for cooperation that would never come.

  "So," Spy said. "What do you want to do, Host? We're fed. We have Void. We could just leave and let them sort it out. Or..."

  "Or?"

  "Or we could test something. Void mentioned holy magic is effective against 'creatures of darkness.' You have a weakness to divine power. These are low-level priests. This might be a good opportunity to understand exactly how vulnerable you are before we encounter something actually dangerous."

  Null looked at Void. "Those priests. How powerful are they?"

  "Barely trained, Great One. Dropouts, most likely—dwarves who began learning the ways of heaven but never completed their training. Many dwarves aspire to walk the holy path, but not all succeed. These four have some power—I can feel it from here—so they possess functional skills. Basic light creation, minor blessings, simple healing. In a normal situation, they'd struggle to harm even a weak undead creature. Against what you are? I truly cannot say. The gap in power seems immense, but divine magic works on principles beyond mere strength."

  "But they could hurt me."

  "Theoretically, yes, Great One. Divine magic opposes the nature of darkness. But whether these novices could do more than irritate you... I suspect not. Though I am new to this power myself and cannot judge with certainty."

  "Still," Spy cautioned. "Better to know our limits. Test it here where the threat is minimal, or discover our weakness when facing something that can actually exploit it."

  Null considered her options, watching the camp descend further into chaos as the arguments intensified.

  Before she could speak, Void interjected quietly through their mental link.

  "Great One, if I may offer a suggestion?"

  "Go ahead."

  "While testing your powers against divine magic may be useful for understanding your capabilities... there may be a larger issue we should consider if word of tonight's events spreads."

  Null turned her attention to him. "Explain."

  "These two groups are currently panicking, acting on instinct and fear. But given time—given calm—they may begin to reason more clearly. The dwarves especially are analytical by nature. They will review what happened tonight: the corrosion of chains, the sudden madness, the pattern of deaths, your appearance and behavior. With enough reflection, even these frightened survivors might conclude that you are not a Dread Shade. That you are something different. Something new. An unknown type of monster."

  "And that's a problem?"

  "Yes, Great One. Even if they don't reach that conclusion themselves, when they return to civilization—and they will, eventually—they will be questioned. Extensively. A caravan of five hundred reduced to a hundred survivors? The loss of three hundred slaves and two hundred armed personnel? Every major power will want to know what happened. Merchant guilds. Noble houses. The churches."

  "Trained inquisitors will interview them. Truth-detection spells will be used. Every detail will be extracted and analyzed. And someone—some expert in monster taxonomy, some scholar of dark creatures—will realize the inconsistencies. Will understand that what they faced was not a known entity."

  Void's expression grew more serious.

  "We are standing in the center of the Desert of Nothing, Great One. This is not a place where monsters live. I have never heard of monster attacks this deep in the wasteland—the environment is too hostile, there is no food, no water, nothing to sustain even the hardiest predators. Monsters stay near the edges, near the oases, near sources of life. They do not venture this far into true desolation."

  "Yet you appeared here. Emerged from that hidden sanctuary. Killed hundreds in a single night. Displayed powers that don't quite match any known creature. This will not go unnoticed. This will become news. Significant news."

  "Within weeks, every adventurer's guild in the surrounding kingdoms will have descriptions of you. Sketches based on survivor testimony. Warnings distributed to every town and city. The churches will mobilize—a new dark creature, unprecedented, dangerous. They'll send investigators. Monster hunters. Priests and paladins."

  "Your image will be posted in guild halls and temples across multiple nations. 'Unknown monster, extreme threat, divine magic recommended.' You'll be hunted. Studied. Tracked."

  Null felt a cold calculation settle over her. "He has a point, Host. We've been here less than a day and we're already creating an incident that could draw serious attention."

  "However," Void continued, "if we leave no survivors... then after some time, this caravan will simply be presumed lost. It happens occasionally—caravans disappear in the desert. Sandstorms, dehydration, navigation errors, bandit attacks. This particular caravan's protection against natural disasters was never particularly robust. I observed their equipment during my time with them. Minimal water reserves. Poor-quality wagons. Inexperienced guides."

  "If everyone dies and the evidence is... removed... then there is no story. No witnesses. No descriptions. Just another merchant caravan that ventured too deep into the Desert of Nothing and never returned. A tragedy, but not unusual. Not worth investigating beyond filing reports and writing off losses."

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "No pictures of your form in guild halls. No church mobilizations. No hunters searching for an unknown monster. You remain a secret. An anomaly that disappeared back into the wastes where it came from."

  Void bowed his head slightly.

  "Of course, this is merely my suggestion, Great One. The decision is entirely yours. But I felt you should understand the potential consequences of leaving witnesses—even terrified, unreliable witnesses—to this night's events."

  Null looked out at the two groups. The dwarves, confident in their defensive formation. The mixed survivors, desperately trying to arm themselves with whatever holy trinkets they could find.

  All potential sources of information. All potential problems.

  "He's not wrong," Spy said quietly. "We broke Heaven, stole divine resources, and fled to an unauthorized dimension. The last thing we need is every church in this region hunting for us. Divine magic is our weakness. Why advertise our existence to the people who can actually hurt us?"

  "And the evidence removal?"

  "I can assist with that, Great One. Your ability to reduce corpses to dust is remarkably efficient. The beetles and wagons can be scattered, made to look like a sandstorm aftermath. We can stage it. Make it look natural. Tragic but mundane."

  Null considered this. No emotions to cloud her judgment. Just cold logic.

  Witnesses meant exposure. Exposure meant hunters. Hunters with divine magic meant danger.

  No witnesses meant freedom to explore this world without immediate threats.

  Null used her Life Sense to check the surroundings again. Those three lizardmen were still running into the distance—far out now, but their signatures remained clear in the emptiness. Given how desolate this desert was, even if they maintained their current speed, it could take days before they got far enough that she couldn't locate them. Any other life signatures were extremely distant—she wasn't even sure if there was anything in that direction, just maybe a faint pulse. Days away. No idea exactly. But plenty of time for sure.

  In this empty desert, her Life Sense skill was frighteningly effective for tracking anything alive.

  The beetles had some life force in them—not much, but present. She could probably turn them to dust like the corpses. The rest of the goods could be burned, or she could test her item box's size limits and try to store everything. Remove all traces.

  When before she had hunted to survive, now she was planning cold-blooded murder. Systematic elimination of witnesses.

  And she felt... nothing.

  Somewhere, distantly, she knew the old version of herself—whoever that had been—would have found this deeply wrong. Criminal. Monstrous.

  The new version felt nothing. Just practical calculation.

  I'm really changed, she thought. Not with regret. Just observation.

  If there was one thing that actually bothered her, it was the appearance of her new servant.

  Void looked glorious now. Gorgeous, even. Restored to health, his elven features refined and elegant, black hair framing a face that would have been considered beautiful in any court. Strong, graceful, powerful.

  And he was wearing a torn, filthy one-piece slave dress.

  It was... wrong. Discordant. Like putting a masterpiece painting in a garbage frame.

  Null opened her item box mentally, scanning through her inventory. She had plenty of equipment. Weapons, armor, accessories, consumables. And clothing. Lots of clothing.

  But all of it was for her female avatar. Dresses, robes, feminine armor sets, accessories designed for a woman's frame.

  She scanned the caravan visually. The dwarves wore functional leather and chainmail. The mixed group had random assorted gear. Nothing that would really fit Void properly. Better than the slave dress, maybe, but not by much. Definitely not befitting someone who should represent her power.

  For the next ten minutes or so, Null reviewed her clothing options in detail. There was one outfit that was maybe okay—a dark robe that was somewhat gender-neutral. But she found herself hesitating.

  Void had just escaped two centuries of forced transformation. The connection between them pulsed with his satisfaction at being restored to his original form. The feeling was strong—she could sense his comfort in his body, his relief at finally being himself again after so long.

  Offering him female clothing would undo that.

  "Host," Spy's voice cut through her thoughts. "You've been standing there staring at your inventory for quite some time. Both Void and I have been watching. Is something wrong?"

  Null blinked, awareness returning to the present. Void was indeed watching her with concerned curiosity, his black eyes attentive.

  "I..." Null paused. "I was thinking Void should have better clothing. Better equipment. But I don't have much that would fit his... current form. Most of my inventory is designed for female avatars."

  "Great One, I am grateful for anything you might bestow upon me," Void immediately responded, bowing his head. "Whatever you have, I will wear proudly as a mark of your generosity."

  But through their connection, Null felt the slight hesitation. The uncertainty. The quiet discomfort at the thought of wearing female clothing again.

  "You're uncomfortable with that idea," Null stated flatly.

  Void looked up, startled. "I... Great One, I would never—"

  "Don't lie. The connection works both ways. I can feel it. You don't want to wear women's clothing again."

  "I..." Void's expression shifted, vulnerability showing through. "I apologize, Great One. After two centuries of being forced into that role, the thought of... yes. It troubles me. But I will obey if—"

  "No." Null interrupted. "If it bothers you, say so. That's a command. If anything I offer makes you uncomfortable, tell me immediately. We can probably find something from the caravan that fits better."

  "As you command, Great One."

  "Though..." Spy interjected. "Host, you do have one option that might work."

  "What?"

  "That gift box. From the high-stakes bet you won. You never used it."

  Null froze. "That thing? Are you serious?"

  "It's technically male-appropriate clothing. Expensive. High quality. And it would fit him."

  "It's ridiculous."

  "It's what you have."

  Null sighed—or made the sound that passed for sighing in her current form. She reached into her inventory and pulled out an ornate gift box. Expensive wrapping, pristine condition. The result of a very expensive bet from her past gaming life that she'd won but never actually used.

  "Void," she said. "I have one option. But I need you to look at it first and tell me honestly if you'd feel... off wearing it. If you do, we'll find something else from the caravan."

  "Of course, Great One. I am certain whatever you offer will be—"

  "Honest opinion. That's an order."

  "Yes, Great One."

  Null opened the box.

  Inside was a costume that could only be described as a bizarre hybrid between a tuxedo and a bunny outfit. Black formal jacket with tails. White dress shirt. Bow tie. But with elaborate decorative elements that suggested animal motifs—subtle ear-like shapes in the collar design, a suggestion of fluffiness in the jacket's trim.

  Made by one of the best craftsmen in the game. Someone who had created much of Null's best equipment over the years. The material cost alone... Null was still mentally cringing over it. The result of an escalating bet she'd won but never used. One of those stupid endgame challenges that had seemed funny at the time. She'd hidden it away immediately after receiving it, and none of them had ever talked about it again.

  And now here it was. Her most expensive mistake, about to be useful.

  Void stared at it.

  And stared.

  And stared.

  "Not... possible..." he whispered through their connection. "Full set? How? Impossible. Not claimed. Can't be—"

  The elf's voice kept making these strange, stuttering sounds. Disbelief. Shock. Something close to religious awe.

  "Void," Spy interjected after a long moment. "It's okay to say no. You don't have to make those strange noises. If you don't want it—"

  "No!" Void's response was immediate and sharp. He composed himself quickly. "Forgive me, Great One. Honored Spy. I am simply... speechless. This garment is clearly Legend-class equipment. My appraisal skill barely functions when examining it—the power radiating from it is immense. Items of this caliber are National Treasures. They are owned by the most mighty beings in this world. Kings. Emperors. S-rank heroes."

  "Legend-class?" Null asked.

  "The highest tier of equipment that exists in this world, Great One. I have seen one piece of Legend-class equipment in my lifetime—about fifty years ago. It was a sword owned by an S-class adventurer who visited the noble family I was serving at the time. That blade was famous across multiple kingdoms. Songs were written about it. Wars had been fought over its ownership."

  "This garment, Great One, is without doubt more powerful than that legendary sword. Significantly more powerful. I can sense it even without touching it."

  "And the problem is?"

  "The problem, Great One, is that it is unclaimed." Void's hands hovered near the box but didn't touch it. "Legend speaks that the first person to use Legend-class equipment can reshape it—attune it to their specific needs, modify its properties, bind it to their essence. After that initial claiming, it can change owners, but they must use it as configured by the first wielder. It becomes fixed. Permanent."

  "I did not dare touch it without your explicit permission because claiming such an artifact is... significant. Irreversible."

  "What exactly is Legend-class equipment?" Null asked. "Explain in detail."

  Void nodded, his expression serious. "Legend-class equipment represents the pinnacle of craftsmanship and magical enchantment in this world, Great One. Nobody knows how to create new pieces—all existing Legend-class items are ancient, passed down through generations, or discovered in ruins of lost civilizations. The knowledge of their creation has been lost to time."

  "Wars are fought over these items. Nations rise and fall based on who possesses them. They grant power far beyond normal magical equipment—some can reshape terrain, others can kill with a single strike, still others provide protection that renders the wearer nearly invincible."

  "All equipment of this level is bound. Once claimed, only a single user—or sometimes a bloodline, or those meeting specific criteria—can utilize its power. Nobody else. Many noble and royal families maintain their power specifically because they possess Legend-class items. Possession of even a single such artifact can make a house unassailable."

  "To find one unclaimed... Great One, this is unprecedented. This is the kind of discovery that changes history."

  Before responding to Void, Null focused inward. Time to test something she hadn't fully explored yet.

  Her shapeshifting ability. The power to take on different forms when she had sufficient Life Essence.

  She concentrated, drawing on the stored energy, visualizing her game avatar. The form she'd used for years. The appearance that felt familiar, even if it wasn't original.

  The transformation was smooth. Effortless. Her incomprehensible horror form condensed, reshaped, became humanoid. Slender frame. Pale skin. The dark robes and equipment she'd worn in-game materialized as her default appearance settled into place.

  She looked down at herself. Hands. Arms. A body that made sense in three dimensions.

  "Much better," she said aloud, her voice now clear instead of that multi-tonal rasp.

  "Interesting," Spy commented. "The transformation is seamless. And your equipment came with you—it's part of the form now."

  "Void," Null said, gesturing to herself. "Can you appraise this? My equipment. Tell me what you see."

  Void looked up, his black eyes focusing on her with that analytical intensity. He studied her for a long moment, his expression shifting from attentive to shocked to something approaching religious awe.

  "This... Great One, the quality of what you're wearing..." He seemed to struggle for words. "Every piece. The robes, the accessories, the boots, even the belt—all of it. Everything. Every single piece is Legend-class. A full set of Legend-class equipment. I... I have never heard of such a thing. To possess even a single piece would mark someone as a supreme power in this world. To wear an entire set... Great One, you are beyond supreme. You are... I don't even have words for what you are."

  He prostrated himself immediately, forehead to the sand.

  "I am unworthy to even stand in your presence. Forgive my earlier presumption in speaking so casually."

  "Get up, Void. You're fine. I was a serious player. I had good gear."

  "Host," Spy said quietly. "This was EX-tier equipment in the game. Top of the line. Best possible quality. The kind of gear that required endgame materials and master crafters. It seems that quality translated directly—EX-tier in the game is Legend-class here. Makes sense. You always had the best equipment."

  Null looked at the ridiculous bunny tuxedo in the box.

  "So if Void claims it, he can configure it however he wants?"

  "Yes, Great One. Within the item's inherent nature, he could adjust its properties, its abilities, its form to some degree. After that initial claiming, the configuration becomes permanent."

  Null considered this. Then pushed the box toward Void.

  "Then claim it. It's yours. Configure it however you want."

  Void looked up sharply. "Great One, are you certain? An artifact of this power—"

  "I'm certain. You're my servant. You represent me. You should have equipment that reflects that. Besides, I apparently made it by accident during a stupid bet. Might as well put it to use."

  Through their connection, she felt Void's overwhelming gratitude. His shock. His absolute devotion intensifying even further.

  "I... yes, Great One. Thank you. I will wield this treasure with honor."

  Void reached out and lifted the garment from the box.

  The moment his fingers touched the fabric, it began to change.

  The decorative elements melted away, becoming cleaner. More refined. The tuxedo jacket adjusted its proportions, fitting Void's frame perfectly. The entire outfit transformed from costume to something that looked like proper adventurer's attire—dark colors, practical cut, well-fitted. Elegant but functional.

  If you looked closely, you could still see hints of the original design in the seams and structure. But nothing that would reveal what it had once been.

  As the claiming process continued, Null turned her attention back to her item box, scanning through the inventory more thoroughly now that she had a moment.

  And froze.

  "Host?" Spy said. "What's wrong?"

  "Spy. Look at this."

  She mentally shared her view of the inventory with him.

  Rows upon rows of equipment. Weapons. Armor. Accessories. Consumables. And then, separated into its own section, a small mountain of items with that unmistakable quality signature.

  "Wait," Null said slowly. "Was this not all EX-tier?"

  "Oh," Spy said quietly. "Oh, that's... a lot."

  "I was a top player for years. Since beta. The last ten years or more, the game was basically my job." Null scrolled through the inventory, recognizing pieces she'd earned, crafted, won. "When you're one of the top players in a game with millions of active users, it's not that hard to earn money. Many players who streamed made way more than I did—I was always too lazy for that. Most of my income came from tournaments with real money prizes. Sometimes streaming, though I didn't really enjoy it."

  "You were a professional gamer."

  "More or less. Also did some teaching, helping newer players for fees. Coaching. That kind of thing. And over all those years, I accumulated... this." She gestured mentally at the massive inventory. "I never threw anything away. Just kept collecting. Upgrading. Optimizing."

  "And all of it came with you. All of it is real now. All of it is Legend-class equipment in this world."

  They both stared at the inventory for a long moment.

  Then Null said: "Should we try to take over the world or something?"

  "...That's a concerning question, Host."

  "I'm serious. If we have this much Legend-class equipment, and apparently just one piece can make a noble house 'unassailable,' what does having this much mean?"

  "It means we're a walking arms depot. It means we could outfit an army with artifacts that kings would go to war over. It means we're potentially the most dangerous entity on this planet in terms of raw equipment value."

  "Also," Spy added after a pause, "it means we need to be very, very careful about what we reveal. One Legend-class item made Void speechless. Imagine what would happen if anyone learned you have all this."

  "Fair point."

  "Great One?" Void's voice interrupted their discussion. The claiming process had completed. He stood there in his transformed outfit—the decorative elements had vanished entirely, replaced by something that looked like dark adventurer's attire. Practical cut, well-fitted, elegant without being ostentatious.

  If you looked closely, you could see hints of the original design—a seam here, a button placement there—but nothing that would reveal what it had once been.

  "The claiming is complete. I have configured it as I saw fit. I hope that meets your approval, Great One."

  "It's fine. How does it feel?"

  "Like wearing the favor of a god, Great One. I am honored beyond words."

  Null looked at her servant—now properly equipped, standing tall, radiating power—and then looked out at the camp.

  The two groups had stopped screaming. They just stood there, staring in their direction. The fear coming from them was in total overdrive—Null could feel it like a physical wave washing over her. They must have detected something during the claiming process. Seen something. Felt the surge of power when Void bound the Legend-class artifact to himself.

  The shouting had ended quite suddenly after Void finished with his clothing.

  Now there was just silence. And terror.

  "Well," Null said, her voice carrying a hint of dark amusement. "Time to finish this mess."