"Ahem… short-limbed one, I almost forgot you."
That voice thundered in Ezekel's eardrums like a divine drum solo played by an angry celestial bard.
He snapped out of his trance and dropped to his knees, eyes wide, hands clasped in a way that screamed fervent believer meets I-just-saw-my-own-death-and-it-has-cheekbones.
Void, standing there like a god who couldn't decide if he wanted followers or silence, squinted slightly.
What… is this? I didn't even do anything yet and I already have a disciple? This is moving faster than a cult recruitment poster in a wine tavern.
"Short-limbed kid," Void asked dryly, "do you know anyone skilled in crafting? I mean actually skilled. Not just swinging hammers while drunk."
It was a fair question.
Void had been through three continents and, so far, most smiths seemed more obsessed with fame than fundamentals. Some dwarves forged in public just to show off. Others hid away in seclusion, crafting quietly like introverted demigods. Talent was out there, but precision? That was rare.
Ezekel perked up.
"Well… there's this dwarf," he began hesitantly, "people call him the Crazy Dwarf. He's not into building mechas like the others. He studies… why things are the way they are. Like why bones grow where they grow. How energy can be stored in bone fragments. Stuff that made most of us think he'd finally drunk himself stupid."
Void tilted his head slightly. That sounded… promising.
"He even managed to create a bone fragment out of several odd materials," Ezekel continued. "Then started feeding it life jades to store energy. Said he wanted to craft a 'living' droid… one that could act on instinct. He's insane."
Void raised a brow. "Do you know where the Crazy Dwarf is?"
Ezekel looked confused. "Master god… that could be anyone. Most dwarves into forging are crazy. Some of them try to drink molten steel just to see if it helps their creativity."
Void pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I mean the one who made the bone fragment."
"Ohhh," Ezekel blinked. "You mean my father?"
Void froze.
Oh no.
"Your father?" he repeated slowly, like the words might change meaning halfway through.
"Yeah. That's him. Two years ago, he told me to find purpose or at least stop being useless. Then he said he discovered a secret world but wasn't ready to explore it yet. Said he'd marked the place and would return when he was prepared to cross the Northern Waters."
Void narrowed his eyes. The words secret world were not said lightly in this realm.
⸻
Mysterious Planes—scattered remnants of the First Battle. When Void nearly destroyed the World Realm, the impact had shattered it into fragments. Some became Mysterious Planes, floating like landmines across reality. Each one held strange laws, dangerous creatures, and treasures from the age before order.
Most mortals didn't know about them.
But ancient clans—especially those tied to the god or inferno planes—knew. They even controlled some.
Void was not about to let a dwarf—crazy or not—stumble into one of those alone. Not if he was walking the path of Creation Principles.
If that dwarf survives contact with the plane, he could become something troublesome… or something useful. And either way, I need to see what he's made of.
⸻
"Do you have the map?" Void asked. "Where your father went?"
"Yes, Master God!" Ezekel replied, practically vibrating. "But it's a copy. My father made it just in case the original got lost."
"That'll do."
"Should we—"
"Let's go."
Space twisted.
⸻
Instantly, they were standing outside Ezekel's home, the sudden change in scenery hitting the dwarf like a punch to his already-short equilibrium.
Ezekel stumbled inside, heading for a familiar room. He tapped twice on an old brick near the door, triggering a small mechanical mechanism. The brick slid out, revealing an ancient scroll.
Before he could even think about replacing the brick, Void appeared beside him like a bad dream that wouldn't wait its turn.
Void took the scroll, unfurled it, and scanned it quickly. His eyes darted across symbols, leyline references, and plane fracture coordinates. He calculated the distance.
Then they moved again.
⸻
Now they were beneath the sea.
The Northern Waters.
Dark. Vast. Cold.
Ezekel screamed—silently, of course, as he clenched his eyes shut. But after a few seconds passed and he wasn't drowning or being eaten by sea monsters, he peeked.
And what he saw made him forget his fear.
Massive sea creatures swam past them, unbothered, uninterested. It was as if he and Void were invisible, or perhaps simply beneath notice.
Void stood there, arms folded, eyes fixed forward.
Ezekel swallowed hard.
The air was still.
The ocean loomed.
And ahead, something shifted—an ancient disturbance buried in the deep.
Void's voice broke the silence.
"Let's see what your father found, short-limbed one. And whether he's still alive to be impressed by it."