The red fissure overhead pulsed with a dull, subterranean hum. Vranja tore her stare from Morzak's lace-trimmed waistline as cold needles pricked the back of her neck. The rift looked less like sorcery and more like glass snapping under a boot. She followed Tivosh as he marched toward the obsidian gates of the fortress, whistling through his teeth. “Alright, new player housing! Let’s see what kind of furnishings we’ve got,” Tivosh declared, his voice echoing off the desolate, snow-covered landscape. As the colossal doors groaned open, revealing the cavernous, blood-stained halls within, a voice like grinding glaciers filled Vranja’s mind. It was Gospodar Vlesk, the petty god of storms and frozen wastes, his telepathic presence a freezing spear through her thoughts. *“Vranja. My Inquisitor. Explain this blasphemy,”* Vlesk boomed, his mental voice laced with divine fury. *“A foreign invader, squatting in the seat of Morzak the World-Ender? The ley lines of Volost groan. The Eldric Knot unravels.”* Vranja pressed her fingers flat against her thigh, forcing her breath into a steady cadence. “My Lord, the newcomer defies classification,” Vranja projected, bowing her head against the psychic squall. “He arrived after the Gelid Horror folded. I am charting his capabilities.” *“Capabilities? He claims a fortress as lodgings! He splintered the frost-wards of Khrebet with a casual swat! The Eldric Knot frays beneath his tread!”* Vlesk’s wrath bore down, grinding behind her temples like millstones. *“This is not monitoring, Inquisitor. This is incompetence. This… *thing* must be excised. Before it tears apart the very bones of the world. Before it consumes the remaining Eldric Knots that hold our reality together.”* “Excised, My Lord?” Vranja asked, keeping her tone smooth. Murder, then. A knife in the dark. *“Slit his throat. If he imperils the realm, he challenges my dominion. I will not rule an ash heap. You have one solar cycle. Fail, and you share his execution.”* Vlesk’s mental presence receded, leaving behind a ringing void and a glacial fear in Vranja’s gut. One solar cycle. She glanced at Tivosh, already inside the Keep, poking at a grotesque, petrified gorgon head with the tip of his boot. How was she supposed to kill a being that treated a demon lord as a maid, and walked through abominations like mist? A sudden, blinding flash erupted from the sky. A bolt of azure glare tore through the clouds, arcing straight toward Tivosh in a blast of celestial wrath. Tivosh looked up from a rusted lantern. “Free current?” he said, raising an open palm. The bolt crashed into his hand with a concussive boom that rattled the flagstones. Tivosh didn't even shift his footing; he merely flexed his wrist, guiding the blue fire until it coiled about his forearm like a tame serpent. “This place has zero amenities,” Tivosh complained, flexing his fingers, the captured lightning dancing between them. “Morzak, get me a brew. And something to power this thing.” He gestured vaguely at the bolt. “I need a coffee. A proper one. Not that boiled tree bark they served at the funeral.” Morzak, who had just finished dusting a particularly gruesome torture rack, shivered. “A… brew, Master?” he whimpered, his voice a low rumble of terror. “And… to power what?” Tivosh snapped his fingers and slung the blue arc into a heap of brass scrap and iron flues by the door. Sparks spat across the stone. With brisk, practiced twitches of his fingers, he forced the metal to warp and interlock, channeling the celestial charge into an iron cylinder. Within breaths, a massive, brass-plated boiler stood on three clawed feet, venting steam through a carved dragon snout. “See? Improvisation,” Tivosh declared, clapping his hands together. “Morzak, you’re on barista duty. Don’t burn the beans.” Vranja watched, her mind reeling. Vlesk’s celestial wrath, trapped and forced to brew water. The sheer lunacy of the spectacle proved one thing: an open strike would be suicide. She needed a different approach. Subterfuge. Information. She needed to understand Tivosh’s power, his motivations, everything, before this realm crumbled to dust. She eased backward into the corridor while Tivosh coached Morzak on aerating curdled goat milk with a thrashing bat. Her soft leather boots made no sound against the bone-carved stairs leading to the upper gallery. The air turned frigid near the chamber he had dubbed his storage vault, thick with ozone and iron. Inside, the room was a chaotic explosion of legendary artifacts. A pulsating, obsidian heart sat on a pedestal next to a cracked, leathery tome that seemed to whisper forgotten curses. Swords hummed with dark power. Shards of what looked like shattered stars glimmered in a velvet-lined box. She scanned the clutter, hunting for a talisman, a weak point, anything mortal hands could turn against him. Instead, she found only relics tossed about like firewood: cursed swords propped against barrels, enchanted skulls rolling underfoot. Her hand went to the consecrated dagger at her hip. The blade, blessed by the Sacred Order of the Unsleeping Dawn, was meant to sever the unholy, to banish aberrations. If anything could harm Tivosh, it was this. She drew the blade, its silvered surface reflecting the chaotic magic of the room. Its faint, holy light seemed insignificant against the oppressive, dark aura of the artifacts. “Oh, you found my rare drops!” Tivosh’s voice boomed from behind her, cheerful and utterly devoid of menace. Vranja whipped around, bringing the dagger up in a clean arc. Tivosh stood there, a wide, innocent grin on his face, oblivious to the drawn weapon mere inches from his chest. He was holding a glowing, multi-faceted crystal, which he promptly placed back on a shelf. “I was just sorting some inventory. Good timing, actually,” Tivosh continued, completely ignoring the blade. “See this? This is the ‘Shard of the Void-Dragon’s Eye’. Pretty neat, huh? Drops a nasty debuff on anything looking at it. But I don’t have enough inventory space to keep it equipped all the time.” He gestured with his chin towards her weapon. “Oh, that? Is that a quest item? Or a new companion ability? Looks like a holy blade. Decent stats, I bet. What’s its proc rate?” Vranja stood frozen. He saw an executioner's edge and thought she was displaying parlor tricks. The blade, meant to cut down gods, seemed to hum with impotent rage in her hand. She slowly, carefully, lowered it. “It’s… a demonstration, Master,” she managed, the lie tasting like ash in her mouth. “A show of… loyalty.” Tivosh clapped his hands, his grin widening. “Loyalty! Excellent! I knew you were a good pick for my party. Most NPCs are so useless. So, about this shard…” He launched into an enthusiastic monologue about item stats and drop rates, completely engrossed in his ‘loot’. Vranja nodded stiffly, sheathing the dagger while he rattled on about modifier percentages and passive buffs. She had never encountered such a profound lack of self-preservation, or such a boundless ability to misinterpret reality. Suddenly, the room was bathed in a searing, red light. Tivosh blinked. A massive, glowing warning shimmered in his vision, overlaid across his perception of the room and its chaotic contents. His brow shot up, grinning in wild excitement. [SERVER EXPANSION COUNTDOWN: 7 DAYS] “Aha! There it is!” Tivosh exclaimed, a triumphant laugh echoing through the room. “Seven days! I knew it! The devs are finally ready to expand the map! That means a massive raid event is coming, Vranja! Get ready for some serious endgame content!” Outside the Black Keep of Volost, the ground began to tremble. A distant, guttural roar split the frigid air. The very mountains groaned. Gospodar Vlesk, enraged by the failed smite and the continued affront, had descended. A towering figure crowned in rime led a shrieking host through the gale. Vlesk raised a massive arm of solid ice and drove it straight into the keep’s obsidian gates, smashing the ancient stone into black splinters.

Aggroing the Devs