Matthias awoke feeling oddly whole and content. He had ended up investing as much in himself as possible once he realized he was actually in the strange adolescent phase of godhood. He had been more than a demigod but less than a full world spirit or god. Now he was classified as a world spirit, a foundational being of the world. The world spirit had still received about twenty-five percent of his ascension energy and had become a greater world spirit.
Matthias had asked her name, and she revealed that she did not have one. The world at large did not have a name due to how long the surface had remained barren. The old name was lost, and everyone simply called the lands outside their towns the Barrens. Matthias was not content knowing that. He had not been able to think of a name that truly fit either the world spirit or the world itself during his ascension. Even now, it gnawed at the back of his mind.
Matthias emerged from the back of what had once been the Vital Hydra form he had taken. It was now a very ornate mountain. As far as lawn decorations went, Matthias liked it. With exaggerated movements, he stretched as he spent a little energy to finish a project he had been meaning to complete for a while. It turned out that unique entities by birthright were automatically considered of the Legendary realm when it came to crafting life as a dungeon. Sure, he could name and add modifiers to monsters to create something akin to boss monsters, but truly unique existences had to either be cultivated or have true life breathed into them only once Legendary rank was achieved.
The world seemed to grow still as four women emerged from his dungeon. With a single step, Matthias stood before them.
The first woman to emerge was a tall, broad, tanned, elven-looking woman. She looked like she had been corn-fed and raised on a farm all her life. She stood six and a half feet tall easily, with a build earned from long hours of physical labor. She wore light pastel-green overalls over a pastel-purple shirt. Thick gardening gloves covered her hands, and a belt hung around her hips, from which her gardening tools dangled. Her blonde hair was tied back to keep it out of her light-green eyes. This was Matthias’ Spring lady, who preferred to be called Tilly.
The next to emerge was a woman standing six foot one, her skin holding a slight blue tint. She wore red half-plate armor over brown leathers with ocher accents. A war scythe of black metal and ironwood rested across her back. Her silver hair was braided tightly to her skull, and her amber eyes cataloged all she saw. Despite all that, a faint smirk rested on her face as Matthias greeted her. This was his Autumn lady, who preferred to be called Vicky rather than Victoria.
Next came a tall woman nearly seven feet in height. Her golden locks spilled in curls down her back. She wore a lush green ballgown with gold accents. Her fiery golden eyes were full of excitement as she surveyed the world around her. As the Summer Queen, it was only fitting that she shared the same tanned complexion as the Spring lady. She had taken the name Titania for herself and refused any other.
The fourth woman stood at five foot eight. Her violet eyes were as sharp as her cheekbones. She wore a black suit jacket over a deep-blue button-up shirt, paired with a black pencil skirt and flats. Glasses with silver frames rested upon her nose. She looked more like a lawyer than the Queen of the Winter Court. Her alabaster skin resembled a blend of marble and ice in the current light. This was Mab. She had plucked the name from Matthias’ mind and dared him to refuse her.
Matthias had not hand-crafted them. He had simply gathered the energy from the fountains and given it a goal. These were the forms their magic and cultivation had chosen to manifest.
“I see you all are finally awake,” Matthias teased, giving them a bow.
“You don’t need to bow to us, Father,” Titania began.
“It sets a bad example,” Mab continued in an exasperated tone.
Matthias just grinned. “Right, right. I am not one for ceremony. Maybe I will let you all teach me when there is time. But for now, we have squatters that need removing, land that needs replanting, and a world that generally needs saving. I preemptively thank you all for your help.” With that final line, he bowed again.
Tilly and Vicky snickered as Mab rolled her eyes with a smirk, and Titania bounced eagerly in place.
“We can handle what’s here,” Titania promised.
“I look forward to being able to properly stretch,” Vicky agreed.
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“Then by all means, please take command of your courts,” Matthias dismissed warmly. “I look forward to hearing your exploits later over a cup of tea.”
“I will hold you to that,” Mab warned.
The four ladies moved so quickly that even Matthias did not see them depart. Mab went north, Vicky to the south, Titania to the west, and Tilly returned to her court, where they were still maintaining the weather ritual. While Matthias had been ascending, the Winter Fey had stopped converting the rainstorm into a blizzard and were now using more conventional spells once more.
Vicky, it seemed, was not needed in the south after all. Xalt had arrived and was resurrecting the carrion field. His undead surged up from the field of the dead to finish off the living. Vicky waited patiently, ensuring the tide would not shift again.
Titania waved a fan, and a field of golden fire erupted in a swath of land before her. The flames did not care about the rain. Before them, everything was kindling.
Mab, Queen of air and darkness, lived up to her name. With a snap of her fingers, the skies became hostile to the few remaining dragons. They plummeted, unable to generate lift. With a clawing motion, she ripped the heat from the hostile forces, reducing the ravening hordes to a mere garden of ice sculptures.
Matthias could only whistle in appreciation.
“That is what we call the right tool for the job,” he said approvingly. “Or the right narrative for the situation.”
Despite his calm demeanor, he joined Mab on the northern front. He could feel something heading his way—something massively powerful and filled with disdain for him.
It did not take long for the source of his nagging worry to appear.
From the north came a clockwork woman. Stained-glass wings unfurled from her back. She looked to be made of porcelain and gold.
“Hear me, heretical dungeon!” the figure proclaimed from on high. Her voice was mechanical but feminine. “I am Order. Not a messenger or champion—Order herself. I am here to—”
“No need to grandstand,” Matthias interrupted as he stepped into the air before her. “You’re just a little late. Can we skip the speeches and monologues?”
“You dare?”
“Look, we both know you are an avatar,” he said evenly. “I already ascended. I already have my domains and all that. I am technically a world spirit and not a god, so no need to worry there.”
“Then you have become something truly immortal,” she grumbled. “It seems I will need to make you kneel and learn your place. You stand before a real god.”
“You say that, but neither of us are warriors. We are architects and crafters. By the way, how is that leveling system you built? I noticed it has not been aging very well.”
That infuriated her.
Instead of escalating, Matthias raised a hand.
“Instead of an all-out fight where we test who has more control over reality, I have another idea. We both craft something. You make your best defense. Warp reality and law as you see fit. I will craft an attack in turn. If you can resist my single attack, I will willingly kneel and serve.”
“I would much rather beat you into submission.”
“So you would rather fight outside your domain? Combat is chaotic. I am offering a duel—an orderly affair with a fair wager. Are contracts not within your authority?”
Order stilled.
“In such a contest, every advantage is mine,” she admitted. “But why offer me such terms?”
“My goal was to get here. I have already achieved what I wanted. There is no need to reshape the world when our domains can settle this in a single exchange. Why fight inevitability?”
Order extended her hand.
“Then I accept.”
Their hands met.
The air tightened.
Order did not simply weave power — she legislated.
“Nothing may approach me.”
Space thickened around her. Distance resisted intrusion.
“Nothing may harm me physically.”
Force unraveled before forming.
“Nothing may harm me magically.”
Mana reorganized and recoiled.
She did not stop.
“All causality directed against me is annulled.”
Possibilities straightened.
“No action may resolve in my detriment.”
Outcomes folded.
“I am the constant. I am the axis. I am the rule by which all rules stand.”
Reality crystallized around her.
“Your move.”
Matthias exhaled.
He crafted.
A blade formed in his hands — curved, deliberate, drawn from myth and memory. From stories where gods bled.
He spread ink along its edge, careful not to touch it.
“Forgive me.”
He did not approach.
He swung.
Simple.
Correct.
Order split cleanly in two.
For a heartbeat she remained upright — divided but not fallen.
She reached inward.
“Reconstitution—”
Nothing answered.
“Continuity—”
Silence.
“Authority—”
The word fractured.
Black veins spread from the wound like cracks in porcelain. Ink seeped through her form, not burning — erasing.
She surged with power, but it slid away from the wound. The rules she had written did not recognize her.
The outcome had already resolved.
Matthias dismissed the blade.
“It’s over. Your defenses were magnificent. But they defend against harm.”
He looked at the spreading ink.
“This is not harm.”
Her hands trembled as she tried to hold herself together.
“There was a hydra where I am from. The Lernaean Hydra. Its blood could kill gods.”
The black reached her wings. The stained glass dimmed.
“My domain is narrative. That poison looks like ink for a reason. It is not killing your body. It is not contesting your laws.”
Her final attempt to command existence dissolved.
“It is simply the end of your story.”
The light faded from her eyes.
Her body collapsed into pale sand that drifted from the sky.
The world exhaled.
