The keep’s obsidian gates groaned, then exploded inward, showering the outer bailey in a hail of jagged splinters. A blast of frigid air, laden with the metallic tang of ozone and raw celestial force, rushed into the Black Keep of Volost. Gospodar Vlesk, a towering figure of pale rime and frost-crowned arrogance, strode through the fractured archway. Behind him, a howling tide of fanatical warriors, armored in jagged plates of glacial ice and wielding frost-rimed weapons, surged across the paving stones. Their war cries, sharp as splintered ice, echoed off the dark stone walls. Inside, Tivosh merely blinked, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Aw, man, the loading screen was barely over,” he muttered, glancing at his inventory. He pulled out a worn, wooden training dummy with a crudely painted target on its chest. “Alright, everyone, focus up! New objective: Tower Defense Minigame! Morzak, you’re on decoy duty. Vranja, support fire! I’ll handle the boss.” Morzak, still clad in his frilly apron, was attempting to polish a dent out of a silver tea service. His multi-jointed legs locked in place, trembling so violently the teacups rattled. His four compound eyes, usually dull as cooling slag, dilated in naked panic. “G-Gospodar Vlesk,” he stammered, his voice a pathetic squeak. “Lord, he has come for me! I knew this day would arrive!” “Nonsense,” Tivosh chirped, casually tossing the training dummy into the path of the oncoming host. The dummy instantly froze solid, then burst into a million frosty shards as the vanguard trampled it. “He’s just the raid boss. Probably drops some sweet loot.” Gospodar Vlesk stopped short of the Keep’s main entrance, his massive form radiating an aura of absolute dominion. His voice, a rumble like icebergs grinding, filled the open air. “You, insolent anomaly! You have defiled sacred ground, mocked our godhood, and ruptured the balance of the realm! Surrender, and perhaps your oblivion will be swift!” He raised a hand, its skin like cracked glacier, pointing a single, icicle-sharp finger at Tivosh. On his brow, a crown of swirling frost crystals pulsed with cold, blue light. Tivosh squinted. “Is that… a crown? Oh, sweet! A boss with a unique accessory. This is like one of those old-school adventure games. Gotta steal the king’s crown before he hits phase two.” He grinned, tapping his chin with a knuckle. “Alright, new objective: Crown Acquisition. Watch this, Vranja. This is a classic glitch move.” Before Vlesk could utter another word, Tivosh simply *wasn’t there*. He reappeared an arm’s length from Vlesk, his hand outstretched. With a soundless *pop*, the pulsing frost-crown vanished from Vlesk’s head. Tivosh was back at the Keep’s entrance, holding the crown. He then, with a casual flick of his wrist, placed it squarely on Morzak’s quivering brow. Morzak froze, the headpiece of the petty god a ridiculous ornament atop his apron-clad horns. He looked like a terrified tea-serving monarch. “M-my Lord,” he whimpered, eyes darting from the crown to Vlesk, who stood frozen in stunned disbelief. [ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: DIVINE HEIST] Vlesk’s chin dropped, exposing sharp rows of frostbitten teeth. His gaze snapped to Morzak, then to Tivosh. A low growl rumbled in his chest. “You… you dare!” Tivosh merely chuckled. “Oh, it gets better. This is the fun part.” Again, Tivosh flickered. The crown was gone from Morzak. It reappeared on Vlesk’s head for a split second, only for Tivosh to snatch it back the instant it settled. *Pop*. Morzak had it again. *Pop*. Vlesk. *Pop*. Morzak. The crown became a blur, appearing and disappearing between the terrified demon lord and the enraged god, each transfer accompanied by a soft, spatial dislocation sound. Morzak, close to hysterics, kept yelping every time the freezing band snapped onto his horns. Vlesk’s face, usually a mask of frigid composure, contorted into an ugly snarl of pure, incandescent fury. Amidst the chaos, Vranja moved. Her sight, sharper than that of Vlesk’s fanatical guard, caught the subtle drift in the invaders’ focus, their momentary confusion. This was the opening. While Vlesk roared, his focus consumed by Tivosh’s bizarre antics, Vranja slipped away from the main hall. She jerked her chin toward three disguised partisans lurking beside the pantry colonnade, her signal unmistakable. The diversion was working. The stairwell down to the lower vaults, where provincial dissidents and captured sages were kept in chains, lay unguarded. “ENOUGH!” Vlesk’s roar split the very air, rattling the ancient stones of the Black Keep. He ignored the crown, which Tivosh had casually dropped into Morzak’s tea tray. His hands, gnarled and powerful, began to glow with a sickly, violet light. Frost crystals formed in the air around him, not with the usual pristine beauty of his power, but jagged and distorted, humming with a malevolent energy. “You have crossed a line, anomaly! You will witness the true terror of a Gospodar’s wrath! Behold the Tear of Khrebet!” The air shrieked. Reality itself seemed to stretch and thin around Vlesk. The violet light intensified, coalescing into a shimmering, disc-like anomaly that pulsed with nauseating energy. It was a forbidden spell, a rent in the very fabric of existence, designed to unmake and utterly erase its target. The frost-soldiers recoiled, even they aware of the blasphemous power their master was unleashing. Tivosh, however, remained unfazed. “Whoa, a reality-bending attack? That’s some endgame stuff!” He glanced around. His hand instinctively reached for the nearest, most convenient item. It happened to be Morzak’s long, handled hearth broom, resting innocently against a pillar. “Alright, parry time!” With a casual swing, Tivosh brought the broom up. The shimmering violet disc, crackling with unmaking energy, slammed into the broom’s bristles. There was no explosion, no grand impact, just a sickening *thrummm* as the broom, for a single, impossible instant, held the very fabric of spacetime in check. The Tear of Khrebet, unable to pierce Tivosh, ricocheted. It flew not into the sky, but down, slamming into the ornate flagstones at the center of the bailey with an utterly devastating, silent force. The ground beneath them buckled. A deep, guttural groan rose from the earth. A spiderweb of fissures, glowing with an ominous, purple-black light, erupted across the stone floor. They spread outward from the impact point like tendrils of shadow, revealing a chasm of absolute nothingness beneath the Keep. [SYSTEM WARNING: ANCHOR INTEGRITY COMPROMISED - VOLOST ANCHOR: 67%] “Aha! Damage report!” Tivosh cheered, completely misinterpreting the dire warning. “Looks like that parry had a hidden AoE effect! Nice! Looks like we hit a weak point!” But the 'weak point' was not a game mechanic. It was the Volost Anchor, one of the three colossal magical structures that held the realm of Khrebet anchored to reality. The violent impact of Vlesk's forbidden spell, refracted and concentrated by Tivosh's impossible parry, had cracked its core. A localized gravity collapse erupted from the yawning chasm. Stone chips, loose dust, and even some of the lighter infantry began to spiral down into the void, screaming. Vranja, who had just returned from dispatching her agents, found herself caught in the immediate pull. The ground tilted violently. Her boots skidded across slick basalt as the gravitational vortex dragged her toward the pit. Fingernails scraping bloody gouges against the stone, she fought the pull of the emptiness. Above her, Gospodar Vlesk, seeing his spell’s devastating backfire and the growing void, let out a shriek of panic, abandoning his men and attempting to flee into the sky. Tivosh saw both. The fleeing 'raid boss' ascending into the gales, and his 'favorite NPC', Vranja, tumbling towards a deadly void.

The Raid on Volost