— Blurb —

Magic: amazing, powerful, extravagant, mysterious necessary for the survival of the universe,... and ridiculously difficult to learn. Without a proper teacher, you could never even reach for the lowest hem of your own true Mage's Robe; that's the common knowledge of how Arcata, the once-great mageocracy that ruled enough of the civilized world to call themselves the Dominant Political and Military Force on the Planet Nonith, came to be. With the decline of Mages, however, as the elder mages die out without any promising students, the memory and knowledge of magic became duller and duller with every passing generation, and the Ultimate Mageocracy itself faded alongside it.

Muradin, Deity of Magic, finds themself running out of options, trying desperately to grip the fraying threads of their home dimension, delaying the inevitable as long as possible as they do the work of hundreds of thousands of mages, supplying the Mana that holds the dimension together... until one bronze-haired opportunity shows herself to them, and they find themselves in the unique position to perhaps fix everything, with only a small investment of time and energy to kick off the chain reaction... with a dose of some good old fashioned, ever-dependable, elitist capitalism to fill in the gaps.

Laura 'Morgana' D'Artagnan is a certified expert on all magics, from conjuration to artificing, enchanting, and even divine magic. Well, as far as the Arcana from Dungeons and Dragons is concerned, at least. After all, she makes and sells custom spell cards, monster cards, and custom Pre-made One-Shot Modules for dungeon masters all across the world, one hand-made batch and *edEx package at a time.

To see one of them suddenly *work*, though, is the start of the craziest campaign that she's *ever* seen.

— Nonith, Arcata, the Failed Mageocracy —

Overlooking what was once Arcata, the home of Boundless Magical Knowledge and, of course, the Proselytes of Muradin, but is now a lawless wasteland of thieves, murderers, bandits, and worse, held together only by the iron grip of a royal family of once-great mages, a faceless, ageless, genderless silhouette sighed in tired annoyance, prompting a grumbled reply from its fellow, a stone being with a white beard that seemed to continuously grow and fall off as it spoke, creating a waterfall of marble chips that disappeared as ash before it went past their ore-studded belt and kilt. "Ye don' have teh do it alone, ya'know, Muradin? Ah know ye take a certain pride in yer Duties, as ye should!... but ye'r dyin', Muradin. That doesn't just affect this world, ya'know?!? If the God of Magic-"

The pale being raised a hand slowly, cutting their compatriot off. "I appreciate your concern, Stone Eye, I do, but as you say, I take pride in my duties, as any craftsman does. I crafted this world, I shaped it from cosmos and thought, and I shall be it's guardian until the end of my days, this I swore when I crafted it, tying my life force to its very fabric, sewing its seams with my veins, using my brain to direct its System, instead of allowing the Universal Standardized System to take it over... why would I have done all of these things, if I were to abandon it now? My disciples will rise to power once more... I am sure of it!"

The stone being, Stone Eye, God of Stone and Ore, sighed at the false confidence exuding from his fellow's expressionless face. Their emotions were conveyed via telepathy, just as their words were, and he could feel the steely edge of desperation and despair in his oldest friend's mind, behind the brave front. His friend was dying, and he knew it, but there was truly nothing they could do about it. His soul was sewn into this dimension, and it was dying. Magic was dying, and if that happened... Stone Eye shook his head to shake away the thought, then gave his friend a wide, boisterous smile, procuring a massive jug of some form of alcohol seemingly from nowhere. "Aye, of course!!! Of course, ye'll pull through!!! But enough o' tha', hae you noticed my Champion 'as reached the peak of Seventh Tier? 'E's to be a Demigod soon, ey? Showed that no-good Goddess of Gems' Champion what-for, this year, and got the levels he needed for it just from the competition itself!!!"

A feeling of happiness overpowered the melancholy of the faceless being, and their exuberant reply was cut short by a strange sensation they both felt, like a heavy knocking on a great wooden door; simultaneously, a black tear appeared on the face of the planet below them, right in the middle of the City of Arcata. Immediately, a portion of the faceless being's body began bleeding a sort of silver blood, and the tear was visibly sewn up by silver light, before being replaced by a black doorway, three meters tall and wide, right in the middle of what once was a tavern.

Stone Eye grimaced, lowering the barrel of alcohol slowly and patting his friend's shoulder gently. "Ach, Muradin, tha' was a feckin' good show, there, barely even destroyed one building!!! A few dozen humans lost, but-"

A new drip of blood showed on Muradin's body, followed by another, and then ten more, before their entire body began to shake and crack violently, all before suddenly righting itself, good as new. A few tense moments later, their voice sounded in the void. "Therein laid my last Champion, Anitra the Storm, Proselytic Paragon of Muradin."

The marble flowing from Stone Eye's beard halted, the 'skin' of his face turning to alabaster virgin marble instead of basalt as the horror of that statement caught him sideways. "Oh Fuck me... Muradin, I'm so-... nay, how can I help?"

There was silence for a while, as they both stared hatefully down at the black doorway, before Muradin finally spoke. "Could... your Followers clear that dungeon away... from my Cathedral?... what little is left of it, that is?"

Stone-Eye nodded easily, already sending the Oracle to his Clerics in the form of a Mission, instead of a prophecy; he rather liked this form of informing his followers that Muradin had invented, much better than Riddles and Visions. "Aye, consider it done, not a problem; I have a pair of Tier Four Inquisitors in that city, though they're working there covertly... this is more important, though."

"I'm sure they can pose as adventurers, I wouldn't want to ruin their work-"

"Ach, nonsense! I'll send along a few clerics and Paladins as well, make sure it gets cleared first thing! No reason to let it sit and fester, after all... Damned USS, interfering where it isn't wanted!!!"

Muradin sighed again, looking at a small speck of light that was traveling towards them, flashing a riot of colors as it arrived and took the shape of an older woman, looking as confused as any human rightfully could in this scenario. The faceless deity gently cradled this new being in its palm, speaking into its chaotic mind with a calming tone. "Ease your mind, Anitra; you are safe, here in my Realm. I am Muradin, your Teacher, and this is the Demiplane of Knowledge, wherein your world resides. You, Anitra the Storm, Tier Six Proselytic Paragon of Muradin and the Order of Mana, have died, and rather suddenly at that... I do apologize for the bluntness of this, but I must prepare you quickly for the coming events: your soul, having gone beyond the Median Tier of Three, is a commodity in the wider universe, as you can be reincarnated in other worlds with a greater propensity to magic, meaning you will be able to reach even higher levels than in this life. The downsides of this is that you will be reborn with none of your memories, and you will no longer be my Champion, but rather a normal Mage. Do you have any questions?"

The soul in question sat down slowly, hugging her knees for a few seconds before she blinked and looked up at Muradin sharply. "Is there no way to stay here with you, Master?"

Muradin's expressionless have shook slowly, their head hanging morosely. "No. You didn't reach the Seventh Tier, wherein you would have become a Demigod, and been allowed to learn from me even in your afterlife... truly sad: I think you had enough talent to reach the Seventh Tier within another decade, perhaps by your ninth; you always were one of my most talented students..."

The human soul grinned, placing her hands on her hips defiantly. "Then I'll just reach the Seventh Tier in my next life, and you can take me as your disciple again, simple as that, right?"

Muradin's melancholy deepened, but a sort of loving, exhausted amusement emanated towards the small human soul. "Yes, Ani. I look forward to our next meeting. Do take care, child, and perhaps drink less in your next life? It was the alcohol in your blood that kept you from fleeing that Dungeon Gate Spawning, even with your mage-sense's advance warning."

The grinning human soul blushed a bit at the knowledge, coughing uselessly into a glowing hand. "Any-Anyway!!! When's this ride start, you think?" In answer, a small black tear appeared in the fabric of reality next to the soul, staying still for a brief, tense moment before tendrils of darkness snapped out of it and dragged the soul into it with nary a yelp of protest.

"Ach, ah always hated how the USS treats Souls... so rude, and impersonal, like they're just coins on the feckin' scales..." Stone Eye spat to the side a small chunk of lava, which landed in the ocean far below, creating a steam cloud to cover the region.

"Indeed; hence why I created my own, for Nonith and it's fellows. They're rather quick to steal my souls, though, aren't they? It always makes me think they're just jealous that my system works better than theirs, and produces higher-valued souls." A deeply smug feeling washes out from the faceless being, and the stone being laughs boisterously in response, patting their shoulder.

"Aye, tha's probably true, Muradin! Even that shit-show of a planet, what's it called, Dirt? They steal souls from there all the time!!! And that one doesn't even have your blessings!!!"

Strange as it was to see what appeared to be a grown man giggling with smugness and glee, something else caught Muradin's mind, causing the beginnings of an idea; their mind turned towards the aforementioned planet, a world wherein Muradin had experimented by making the entire dimension void of mana, to see what happened to society, and the sight that reached their eyes was one that rivaled a Mageocracy on the rise, for a majority of the planet's cities.

Carriages needing no horses, metal ships, flying carriages shaped like albatrosses, wands that spit fire and metal, and even a global mapping system in the outer edges of the atmosphere! Then, something caught their eye even further away: on Mars, the planet they'd named after a god of war who had never existed, a small golem sat, dying and alone as its mana reserves disappeared. It sent a message home by way of some new magic Muradin had never imagined, telling its masters 'I'm getting tired now... I think I'll rest here for a while...'

"How... how did they create new Magic? I specifically gave them Laws of Physics so they couldn't make magic!!!" Muradin's voice was a mixture of surprise and irritation, scouring the planet now for the source of this magic; within moments, they'd found it: a merchant's shop, holding within it a young female mage currently crafting a scroll which stated it was a Scroll of 'Divine Intervention'. Fury exploded out of Muradin, in quantities that Stone Eye had never thought to see from the mild-mannered and kind deity, followed by a roar of rage and a flickering spell being crafted between their hands. "YOU WANT DIVINE INTERVENTION, YOU PUTRESCENT RAT IN MY SHIP'S HOLD?!? HERE IS SOME INDEED!!! YOU WILL STAND AND ANSWER ME MY QUESTIONS THREE!!!"

— Earth —

Down in the back room of a small comic shop in downtown New York, Laura 'Morgana' D'Artagnan was finishing up the last of a batch of Divine Magic Spell Cards for a client in Toronto, a Dungeon Master who had wanted to give his Cleric/Sorcerer multi-class player something to make their turns go a little faster in combat. Each card was uniform in size, color-coded, and then double-laminated for durability and shine. "There we go, last one in the pile, annnnd... done!" She tossed the last card into the box of divine magic cards, then frowned at an unusual shine coming from one of the copies of Divine Intervention. Quickly she snatched it out, afraid she'd used the wrong paint and it was now a Glow-In-The-Dark card, which she charged extra for because of the expensive chemicals required, but it shined even brighter, even in the light of her LED headlamp. "What the hell... used way too much chemical on this one... fuck, there goes my budget for my own game cards... Wyatt will be so disappointed..."

The card began shaking, to her confusion, and then turned to a cloud of dust that engulfed her in an instant, leaving behind nothing but an empty chair and a very confused young boy named Wyatt Junior.