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The Rise of the Winter Wolf - Book 5 - Intermission (Patreon)
Content
The Void
The air itself in the void, made up solely of void element without any oxygen, freezes as Fenrir steps through a portal of his own making into the realm of the playful deathgiver. A name that the progenitors all call Grim, or as he’s called now by the denizens of his universe, The Reaper.
If Fenrir’s previous thoughts on Grim were apathetic if a little judgmental, now he feels absolutely nothing but anger towards Grim’s actions involving his harbinger. For constantly risking the life of the boy for no other reason aside from his own entertainment.
Fenrir gracefully steps through the void realm, his massive wolf body towering over any void creature that gets near, only for those void creatures to be hit back by a wave of ice coming from Fenrir’s own realm denizens, the ice elementals and primordial werewolves.
The progenitor simply ignores this, however, as he continues making his way towards the grand throne standing atop a dais with Grim casually watching a screen while sitting on it.
Fenrir’s eyes narrow as he enters the grand throne room within the cave before he stops walking and taps one of his massive paws on the ground, sending a wave of ice that freezes everything in the room except for the dais itself which is protected by Grim’s void element. And it isn’t until now that Grim finally raises his gaze from the screen with a frown on his face as he complains, “Did you have to do that?”
Without letting the man say any more, Fenrir stomps his paw onto the ground again sending another wave of ice element – eternal ice this time – straight at the Grim Reaper, making the man’s eyes widen in surprise before he hurriedly stands up from his throne and defends himself with his own void element.
“The Primogenitor council has reached a decision,” Fenrir speaks, his voice beginning to resonate throughout the entire universe belonging to Grim. “From here on out, Grim, otherwise known as The Reaper and the Progenitor of Void is forbidden from messing with the Administrator Dungeon or the Beta Dungeon. He may not break his own rules that he set into place, nor may he alter them in any way. Should he be found guilty of manipulating the participants of the dungeons, or the dungeons himself, he will be put to the sword by the Progenitor Council.”
The faint amusement and smugness that Fenrir often sees radiating from Grim’s face whenever he sees him vanishes in an instant, to be replaced by a cold rage.
“Furthermore, the System may not make any changes on behalf of its creator either, leaving the Administrator and Beta Dungeons as they are for the remainder of these runs,” Fenrir continues, his glowing blue eyes narrowing on The Reaper, who he finds shaking with rage.
“You presume to tell me how to run my own-” Grim begins, his voice oozing with cold hostility only for him to be interrupted by the Progenitor of Ice as he stomps his paw again, sending another wave of ice element out to freeze all of the void creatures nearby solid. And at the same time, three other portals appear around the throne room, one leading to the bottom of an endless ocean where a man holding a trident walks out dripping in water, another leading to a massive forest with trees seemingly tall enough to reach the sun where a green-skinned woman with roots occasionally visible writhing underneath her skin walks out with a trail of leaves falling to the ground behind her, and one last one. A portal leading straight to the depths of Tartarus, where miasma fills everywhere the eye can see and the only creatures walking the lands are undead as a man with pale skin, pitch black eyes, and a crown of bones on his head walks out while trailing miasma in his wake.
“We presume nothing,” Poseidon, the Progenitor of Water declares as he stops in front of his portal while hitting his trident’s end on the cavern floor. “You crossed a line. It’s as simple as that.”
“You never target the mortals of a realm, nor do you seek out to make trouble for the blessed of another Progenitor,” Yggdrasil states as the Progenitor of Nature steps in front of her own portal with her arms trailing gracefully alongside her.
“I have had enough of your pointless games, Grim,” Hades, the Progenitor of Death growls out as the man crosses his arms and glares at the Progenitor of Void with his soulless eyes. “You want to turn your universe into a damned game? Go ahead. But you will leave our universes and our blessed out of it. And you will follow the rules you yourself set in place.”
Fenrir sees the rage in The Reaper’s eyes grow more and more powerful only to vanish in an instant as he begins laughing hysterically. But Fenrir doesn’t so much as flinch, nor do the other Progenitors as they’ve come to expect unpredictable behavior from the madman in the eons they’ve known him.
“This is just perfect! Absolutely perfect!!” Grim shouts while spreading his arms and grinning up at the ceiling of the cave. “A perfect climax to a perfect stage!”
Is he…
Grim looks down again to directly meet Fenrir’s eyes with his own, showing the Progenitor of Ice the depth of insanity in his gaze as he says, “I’ll follow your little rules for now, but don’t think you have any form of control over me! This is just the start! The turnaround for the main event that will come in the near century!”
The three Progenitors then watch Grim’s body disseminate into the realm itself, the man returning to his rest for a time, likely to focus all of his attention on his war with Titania.
Silence fills the throne room for a few minutes before Yggdrasil turns to Fenrir and asks, “So you finally blessed a mortal? After all these years?”
Fenrir turns to look at her, only to notice that the two other Progenitors are also looking at him in askance. So he nods his head, not bothering to transform into his humanoid form. Not that that’s anything new, since he rarely ever uses that form.
“It’s more than that though, isn’t it?” Hades asks with a brow raised and his arms still crossed. “You mean to create an entirely new element, don’t you? And with it, a new Progenitor.”
The Progenitor of Ice says nothing in response despite the looks of surprise Poseidon and Yggdrasil are giving him. Instead he just turns around and begins to leave.
“You’re playing with fire, you know that, right? Attempting to create a new conceptual element,” Poseidon’s voice carries through the void to Fenrir right before the man steps back into his realm of ice and snow, the portal closing behind him.
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