The divine battle raged for hours. The Gray Keep became the epicenter of a reality storm, its walls flickering between solid stone and pages of burning text, its halls echoing with both angelic choirs and the whispers of forbidden mathematics. The city of Gantz was spared the direct physical destruction, but the psychic fallout was immense. Citizens reported vivid, nonsensical dreams, and mages found their spells twisting into unpredictable, often comical, new forms.
From the safety of his divine realm, Leo watched with keen interest. The conflict was a perfect stalemate. Amon-Et's raw power was immense, but Oghma Scyre's intellectual warfare was insidious. The Lord of Dawn was fighting a concept, and he was losing his mind in the process. His avatar, once a being of pure, righteous light, was now flickering, its form tainted with the gray shadows of doubt and paradox.
This was his chance.
Leo focused his will, not on the gods, but on the artifacts they had brought to the battle. Folgreis, the champion, still stood guard at the edge of the conflict, his holy greatsword glowing. And somewhere within the chaos, Leo sensed the presence of the Dawn Scepter, the artifact Pope Joseph used to channel Amon-Et's power.
He couldn't steal them directly, not from two warring gods. But he could arrange an invitation. He took out the Loom of Fates.
His fingers danced across the threads, weaving a new, chaotic destiny. "The battle of gods tears a hole in the fabric of reality. A temporary rift to the Abyss opens within the Gray Keep. From its depths, a powerful demon, drawn by the scent of divine energy, emerges. Its name is Graz'zt, the Dark Prince, a master of seduction and deceit."
He paused, a cruel smile on his face, and added another, more specific thread. "The demon is not interested in the gods. It has come for the Pope's scepter."
The backlash from the Loom was instantaneous and severe. It felt like a psychic punch to the gut, leaving him momentarily dizzy. He had just involved a Demon Lord, a being of near-divine power, in the fate of two gods. The consequences would be unpredictable. But unpredictability was exactly what he needed.
Within the Gray Keep, the prophecy unfolded. A tear of pure blackness, smelling of sulfur and sin, ripped open in the main library. From it stepped a being of impossible beauty and grace. He was an impossibly handsome dark-skinned man with six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot. He was Graz'zt, one of the most powerful and cunning of the Abyss's rulers.
The Demon Lord surveyed the battle, his lips curled in an amused sneer. He ignored the warring gods, his gaze sweeping the room until it fell upon the Dawn Scepter, which lay on a dais where Pope Joseph's spiritual essence had been meditating before the battle began.
"Well, well," Graz'zt purred, his voice a hypnotic melody. "What have we here? A lovely little trinket, just waiting to be claimed."
He began to walk towards it, his movements a fluid, predatory dance.
The two warring gods, Amon-Et and Oghma Scyre, both felt the intrusion at the same time. Their battle paused for a fraction of a second as they turned their immense power on the interloper. Divine sunlight and maddening knowledge converged on the Demon Lord.
Graz'zt simply laughed. The attack washed over him, dissipating harmlessly against his abyssal aura. "Oh, please," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Don't mind me. You two carry on. I'm just here to do a little… shopping."