It was dark, shallow, corrupted, and seething with malice.
Atop one of Yggdrasil’s dying branches sat a throne, surrounded by a sea of black parasites that slithered and pulsed, devouring what little light remained.
Upon that throne rested an unknown figure. His presence radiated fury, not sorrow, not regret, not pain, but greed. The greed of humans. The greed of players. The greed that had poisoned the roots of creation itself.
> System: Guild Masters detected across corrupted branches. Action is recommended.
“Action… recommended?” he echoed softly, his voice trembling the air itself.
He rose.
The branch beneath him warped, space bending, time distorting as the air thickened into a suffocating pressure. His eyes burned crimson, windows to a storm of hatred, as reality cracked ope
