somewhere in the far reaches of existence, entirely detached from the grand, bustling epicenters of the multiverse and hypoverse, there existed an empire.
To its own people, it was an absolute leviathan. In the grand, infinite tapestry of the cosmos, however, it was practically a sprouting, infantile nation trying to take its very first breath. It comprised a few million scattered planets and housed a population of several trillion citizens—a mere drop in the bucket compared to the true celestial domains of the outer reality.
The reigning King of this empire was a peak-tier Noble Ranker, a sovereign whose word was absolute law. Beneath his throne sat a specialized council composed of thirty Noble-ranking Commanders—powerhouses so vastly superior to the baseline populace that they could effortlessly wipe out billions of ordinary Soldier-rank entities in a single military campaign. Within the isolated borders of this kingdom, there was no pinnacle higher than the Emperor and his council. They were the undisputed apex.
Cores were an extreme rarity here. Across the entire empire of trillions of citizens, only a few million cores existed in total circulation. Naturally, this meant only the high aristocrats and the truly wealthy could ever afford to purchase one.
Because of the severe environmental hazards of their sector, the most valuable items in existence were the Core of Leaf and the Core of Wood. Water was an exceptionally rare, legendary resource; only the most privileged of the privileged could ever catch a faint glimpse of it, let alone feel it. No matter the affinity or the specific type, a single core brought to an auction house would routinely command prices soaring into millions, if not billions, of imperial coins.
The dominant species of this empire was biologically complicated, but in simpler terms, they were octopus humanoids. It was a cruel, cosmic irony that a species entirely evolved from ancient sea creatures was forced to suffer a permanent, devastating scarcity of water, but their evolutionary fate was sealed.
To sustain themselves, the empire maintained a vast network of slave planets. Dozens of lesser species had been ruthlessly submitted to their rule, either broken by sheer military force or yielding out of desperation. These conquered species were by no means recognized as actual citizens; they were treated as mere property, with one single exception—any brilliant genius who managed to defy the odds and ascend to the Commander Rank could formally be granted an honorary imperial citizenship.
Currently, the Emperor sat prominently upon his throne. The grand seat was a giant sea shell carved from pristine white marble, its surface deeply inscribed with glowing golden runes. On either side of the podium, his council members sat in high-backed chairs, their expressions stern. They were the strongest combatants this isolated pocket of the world could ever offer.
"Your Majesty," the eldest of his Commanders spoke up, stepping forward to bow. "Our vanguard fleets have successfully located another isolated planet inhabited by elves. Our initial scans indicate the strongest entity among them was a Commander-rank native sitting at the absolute peak of ranking up."
"Population count?" the sovereign inquired, his deep, resonant voice echoing through the marble chamber.
"Twenty billion elves, your Majesty, along with a few billion humans who were actively serving as baseline slaves to the elven folk," the elderly man reported.
"So small..." the Emperor mused, shifting his weight. "Any active water signatures discovered on the surface?"
"We detected a prominent river system, my Lord, and massive ice caps resting directly at the equator."
The Emperor's eyes flashed with immediate greed. "Brilliant. Claim the world immediately. Dispatch an invasion party consisting of three Commander Rankers and a supporting detachment of a few dozen Soldier Rankers."
One of the younger council members blinked in surprise, looking up at the throne. "Three Commanders, my Lord? Is that not a bit too much military force for a planet of that scale?"
"It is perfectly fine," the Emperor dismissed coldly. "We need to verify with absolute certainty whether we can successfully harvest a true Core of Water from this sector. We cannot afford any mistakes."
"As you wish, my Lord," the elderly Commander replied, bowing low before turning to make the necessary cross-world arrangements.
Sending three of the empire's precious thirty Commanders to a single invasion front could go two entirely different ways, but to the Emperor, it was a risk well worth taking if it meant securing a water core. The historical founder of their empire had been a legendary user of the Core of Water, a peak Noble Ranker who had managed to reach the magnificent level of Normal Rank 10 before finally succumbing to old age. The current Emperor had just been blessed with a newborn son, and he desperately wanted the boy to possess a water core from the moment his cultivation journey began.
Little did this entire species, their supreme council, or their entire galaxy know—their grand empire was but a single, microscopic component of a massive Divine Rank warped space that the Almighty of the Demons quietly maintained inside the left pocket of his coat.
The Almighty, known across the upper echelons as Dognomed, had fashioned the cosmic coat a few million years ago. Once both he and the garment successfully ascended to the Divine Rank, he had managed to physically pluck a Divine Rank warped space right out of the center of the Great Sand God's desert on his home planet of Naraka, stowing it safely in his pocket.
The Divine-ranking warped space, for all its structural credit, operated on a true universal scale, teeming with endless galaxies, stars, and empires. The outer boundaries of this pocket universe were firmly guarded by gargantuan, Divine-rank Sand Worm-type beasts—monsters so unfathomably massive that each individual worm was many thousands of times bigger than any galaxy contained within the space.
Whenever Dognomed required a fresh Divine Rank core for his projects, he simply reached his hand directly into his left coat pocket and casually plucked at one of the roaming sand worms, effortlessly squishing its titanic head between his two fingers. He had engineered his spatial authority to allow his hand to maintain its baseline, absolute size even when it entered the pocket universe.
To the cosmic sand worms inside the coat, his incoming hand appeared as a terrifying, world-ending entity as large as they were. He would simply clutch a thrashing worm, call forth his demonic claws, and tear the beast open.
When he extracted the harvested core, it appeared no larger than a standard marble ball while resting in his palm. However, the moment the core cleared the spatial threshold of his coat pocket and entered the true, uncompressed reality, it instantly expanded back to its gargantuan size, spanning a few hundred thousand kilometers in diameter. Dognomed always had to be exceptionally careful when handling his loot; if he wasn't paying attention, a single dropped core could easily stabilize and become a literal celestial body—even forming the central burning star of a brand-new solar system.
Dognomed didn't particularly want to attend the upcoming Divine Council session, but his presence was entirely inevitable. He was an Almighty, and he was not the type of person who slacked off or grew complacent due to his infinite power; if anything, his ascension had only made him increasingly hardworking and meticulous. Currently, he was traveling through the cosmic void toward the designated Divine Rank warped space where the council sessions were traditionally hosted.
His personal starship, The Mothership of the Burning World, was a terrifying marvel of demonic engineering. Structurally, the vessel was as colossally massive as the planet Terra, though it didn't share the same exact mass distribution or mana capacity. The traveling fortress comfortably housed a few million high-tier Noble and Royal-ranking demons, alongside the endless legions of evil spirits they commanded. In all due respect, it was the absolute crown jewel of Naraka's space fleet. It had required the sacrifice of nearly fifty Divine-ranking royal beast soul cores just to successfully forge and stabilize the primary engine array, an astronomical construction cost that no ordinary faction could ever hope to replicate.
As the massive ship sailed through the void, Dognomed leaned back, mentally checking his agenda. All he was truly hoping to get out of this tedious council session was some casual 'bro time' with Loid, the Almighty of the Elves, a rigorous combat spar with Deus Eterna to test his limits, and perhaps an intense arm-wrestling rematch with Xerxes—a rematch he would highly appreciate winning this time around.
Suddenly, a soft, yet profoundly powerful feminine voice echoed directly out of his soul space, breaking his train of thought.
"Are we there yet?"
It was the voice of his manifested Aura Beast—the absolute, primary conceptual being of death: The Reaper.
Dognomed shifted his awareness inward, glancing down into the depths of his soul space. His internal domain manifested as a sprawling, infinite demonic cityscape that stretched out into the horizon forever. At the exact epicenter of this metropolis stood a towering, gothic castle constructed entirely from alternating white and black bricks. A massive, floating island shaped like a hollow human skull hovered silently over the castle towers.
Walking out onto the castle balcony was the Reaper herself. Contrary to mortal myths, she was no decaying skeleton, nor was she a gloomy, shrouded figure of depression. She appeared as a remarkably cute, small woman carrying an almost motherly, grounded aura around her.
"Not yet," Dognomed replied mentally to his aura beast. "We still have a bit of a transit corridor to clear."
"It's a long way," the Reaper spoke, leaning against the balcony railing as she looked out across his soul field. "With the Emperor recently choosing a mortal successor on the board, the Hegemon actively gifting away his primary core, and the Survivor's ancient essence suddenly vibrating with a faint, resurgent power... something, or someone, is getting ready to flip the balance of existence completely upside down."
Dognomed's focus tightened. "Reaper... he might be present at the council table today."
"The Almighty of the Angels?" the Reaper clarified, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Facing the golden plaything of Rebirth is never a particularly pleasant feeling, I know. But you'll be meeting Eterna too... so cheer up, champ."
"Yeah..." Dognomed muttered to himself, forcing a breath out. "Think good, feel good."
"Now, godspeed, my foolish host," the woman teased, her form dissolving into a mist of pure conceptual particles as she vanished back into the castle.
***