The Netherworld.
The sky was a haze of gray. Tributaries of the Nether River spread across the land everywhere, and within their currents one could dimly make out pale souls being endlessly scoured of their memories, their expressions slowly turning flat and vacant.
The wasteland was studded with cities built from black granite and decayed earth, the grandest of which was naturally the City of the Dead belonging to
The immense Wall of the Faithless soared into the clouds. Countless faithless souls shrieked upon it in anguished wails, more than half of their bodies already melded into the stone, as though the wall itself were devouring them.
In the world of the gods, the faithless were more terrifying than heretics or the devotees of devils and demons. After death, their souls would be accepted into no deity's divine kingdom; they could only suffer eternal torment upon the Wall of the Faithless.
Even if these souls wished to hastily convert to some deity, it was already too late. Of course, the great God of
By this point, only the Abyss and Hell were still willing to accept the souls of the faithless, transforming them into soul larvae to replenish what had been consumed.
The entire City of the Dead was deathly silent and apathetic, filled everywhere with those vacant-faced undead. Even liches rarely wished to linger in this place.
BOOM!
Suddenly, a massive golden gate swung open, rippling outward with waves of divine radiance.
The god's light carried a taint of purification and redemption, as though it brought a glimmer of hope to this domain — but the reality was nothing of the sort.
The undead cried out, screamed, and scattered from the divine light.
Just a trace of golden afterglow was enough to send some undead scrambling to dodge. Once touched by it, even a soul would dissolve beneath the golden radiance.
That immense majesty, and the glory of a god — these were things the undead here had no right to face head-on.
To be forcibly bathed in it meant utter annihilation from this world. Total nonexistence, the erasure of every last trace.
"Damn it — a true god has descended, and it's the Goddess of the
In that moment, the entire City of the Dead erupted into uproar. Liches, devils, and demons who had been hiding underground, in wizard towers, or even in the cracks between planes cursed and swore as they scrambled to flee. The glow of teleportation gates flickered across the entire city.
"Mystra!"
A booming voice rang out from the heart of the City of the Dead, and a middle-aged man clad in blue robes materialized before the Goddess of the Weave.
His features were thoroughly ordinary — indistinguishable from any common middle-aged nobleman — save for a pair of eyes that glowed with a faint, dark radiance, as though they could see through all things.
An even more potent aura of Death constantly swirled around him, as if he were the supreme ruler of mortality in this world! The sovereign of all the dead!
This was the God of Death! The greater deity Kelemvor!
"You never stop bringing me trouble!"
After surveying the chaotic city, Kelemvor's brow furrowed, and his aura of Death transformed in an instant, shifting into a power of tranquil repose.
A layer of protective magic radiated outward along with his domain, soothing the restless undead and calming them back into stillness.
A variant of the Death Domain — the Domain of Eternal Rest! It carried the power of protection and comfort, and was also an expression of respect and guardianship over the deceased.
Kelemvor had always been a lawful neutral deity, devoted to granting the dead their well-earned peace, and fiercely opposed to those who violated the natural order to extend their lifespan, or who profaned the undead and desecrated corpses through dark sorcery.
His symbol was a golden set of scales supported by a skeletal arm.
Of course, there were also persistent rumors that he had once shared a very intimate relationship with Mystra, the Goddess of the Weave, during their mortal days. But after each of them ascended to godhood, that bond had gradually faded.
Though neither Mystra nor Kelemvor had ever confirmed it, the way things stood now suggested those rumors were very likely true.
"Why have you come to disturb the peace of the underworld?"
Kelemvor fixed his gaze upon Mystra.
Their relationship was nothing like what it once had been. Part of it stemmed from Kelemvor's disdain for magic — his belief that the power of spellcraft gravely disturbed the rest of the dead — but there were other reasons as well.
According to the whispered speculations of many liches and devils, it may also have had something to do with Mystra keeping that old gigolo
"Naturally, it's about the God of Murder… Kelemvor, does it not infuriate you in the slightest that he has stolen your power and covets your throne?"
Mystra said with a cold smile.
"A new god who has only comprehended the Death Domain — his threat is far less than that of
Kelemvor fell silent, then slowly replied.
The deities He had mentioned all held divine domains connected to death. More crucially, they were all Medium-rank gods!
In comparison,
"Is that so…" Mystra's expression shifted several times before she seemed to steel herself. "Have you ever heard… the legend of the Nightmare Serpent?"
"Is this the premonition you spoke of?"
After a flurry of divine communication, Kelemvor fell into a prolonged silence. Only then did he speak slowly: "For your sake… I am willing to lend my hand once more… Unfortunately, my alignment and the oaths I swore back then impose far too many restrictions on me…"
Kelemvor was a Lawful Neutral deity. Even with the excuse of a divine domain conflict, openly attacking another true god's divine kingdom was an extremely taboo act.
What was more serious was that he was certain the moment he sparked a divine war over the Death Domain, the other gods of death would instantly unite against him — there was no way around it. After all, he was the most powerful among them, and the greatest threat.
"That won't be necessary… All I ask is that you…"
A radiant smile bloomed on Mystra's face as she slowly revealed her purpose…
Before long, what had transpired in the Netherworld began to spill over into Leylin's divine kingdom.
"Our faithful's souls have been detained by Kelemvor?"
Listening to his subordinate's report, Leylin's brow furrowed tightly. This was quite the troublesome matter.
When believers worshipped a deity, their souls would ascend to that deity's divine kingdom after death — this was the covenant between gods and mortals, inviolable.
However, the execution of this covenant differed depending on the case.
Generally speaking, the faith channels formed by devout believers carried sufficient power that, upon their death, their souls would be drawn directly into the deity's divine kingdom. Saints were even more so.
When a saint passed away, the deity would even proactively open the gates of the divine kingdom to welcome them. Before entering, they would be elevated to the rank of Holy Spirit, becoming one of the deity's most important allies.
However, the souls of ordinary believers and nominal believers had to undergo an additional step — they had to journey to the Netherworld and undergo identification by Kelemvor, the King of the Dead. The faithless among them would be nailed to the Wall of the Faithless, after which the faithful would be sorted by their respective deities and handed over to the divine messengers sent to collect them.
This was the covenant the gods had signed with Kelemvor when he first entered the Netherworld, and it was what determined his Lawful Neutral alignment.
But now that he had turned hostile, Leylin found himself in a difficult position.
After all, the devout and the fanatics among the faithful were ultimately only a minority — ordinary believers and nominal believers made up the overwhelming majority!
Once this core base was damaged, the blow to his faith would be devastating.
"Our divine messenger questioned him about this as well, but Kelemvor gave no response… He only relayed a condition through his subordinates — that my lord must personally travel to the Netherworld before he would agree to release the souls of the faithful…"
A heroic spirit among his subordinates reported with trembling, and Leylin waved his hand, dismissing everyone before sinking into deep thought.
In this bizarre affair, he smelled the unmistakable stench of conspiracy.
"Pressing me at every turn… Not giving me even a moment to breathe…"
Leylin smiled bitterly. He wanted nothing more than to recuperate, but the other party simply refused to give him the chance.
What's more, Kelemvor held a divine portfolio that directly conflicted with his own — even if Kelemvor was using this to make trouble, it would be hard to find fault with him.
Among the gods, Leylin had virtually no connections. More likely than not, most of them were gloating.
"Thankfully… I don't have many followers in the material world. My core base is still the natives of Bankitz Island, who reside directly within the divine realm — their souls don't need to pass through the Netherworld…"
Leylin felt a small measure of relief.
When dealing with any scheme or trick, the key to breaking through was not to follow the opponent's pace. Otherwise, the outcome would be nothing short of disastrous.
Since Leylin had determined that the other party's goal was to lure him into the Netherworld, or to provoke an even more intense conflict with Kelemvor, he made up his mind to play the part of the reclusive turtle and ignore the matter entirely.
So what if his reputation was ruined? So what if the faith in the material world collapsed?
His core base was within the divine realm — he had nothing to fear.
Besides, his true nature was that of a
When being threatened, the more importance you showed, the easier you became a target — and in the end, you would gain nothing and might even lose what you already had.
Right now, Leylin was relying on the fact that he was wealthy enough to outlast Kelemvor in a war of attrition.
Of course, divine realm followers had their own drawbacks as well.
At the very least, Leylin knew full well that compared to the material world, followers living within the divine realm provided vastly reduced amounts of faith.
And what was truly terrifying was that after a few generations, these followers would gradually become "divinized" — that is, they would slowly transform into petitioner spirits. This was an irreversible process.
Thus, even though divine realms held their benefits, the primary source of followers for most deities remained the material world.