The scrying spell I wove this time was not subtle—it was perfect.
Layered concealment sigils folded inward on themselves, masking not only my presence but the absence of presence that usually gave scrying away. The spell did not observe from afar; it borrowed the world's own perception, watching through shadows, fractures in reality, and the ambient awareness of dark magic already saturating the battlefield.
If the Overlord noticed this—
Then he deserved to.
The vision formed.
General Garg emerged from a tear of shadow at the edge of a ruined battlefield. The land itself looked sick—stone blackened, air heavy with corruption. At the center stood the Overlord, towering, partially formed, darkness coiling around him like a living crown.
Even weakened, he dominated the space.
Garg did not hesitate.
He knelt.
"I was sent by the Arch Necromancer Monstrox," Garg announced, his voice steady despite the oppressive presence bearing down on him. "I request an audience. My master wishes to discuss a matter of mutual interest."
The Overlord turned slowly.
Red light flared within his form.
He knows that name, I thought. Or at least, he recognizes the weight behind it.
"Monstrox," the Overlord repeated, his voice layered—many tones speaking as one. "That name does not belong to this realm."
Garg raised his head just enough to meet the Overlord's gaze—bold, but not insolent.
"Nor does my master," Garg replied. "But he understands war. And inevitability."
Silence stretched.
I felt Krakenskull's presence beside me, solid and patient as bedrock.
The Overlord stepped closer, darkness dragging across the ground like spilled ink.
"Speak," he said. "Before I decide you are unnecessary."
Garg did not rush.
"They have been watching," he said. "The battle. The First Spinjitzu Master. His weaknesses. His fate."
The Overlord's attention sharpened—just a fraction, but enough.
"My master offers assistance," Garg continued. "An army that does not tire. Magic forbidden even to this world. Strategic restraint, not reckless worship."
That earned something like interest.
"They believe," Garg said carefully, "that with cooperation, you can defeat the First Spinjitzu Master more efficiently… and with fewer sacrifices on your side."
The Overlord circled Garg slowly, inspecting him like a tool he was deciding whether to break or use.
"And what does your master demand in return?" the Overlord asked.
Garg answered without hesitation.
"Nothing immediately," he said. "Only recognition. Dialogue. And the understanding that power shared strategically lasts longer than power seized alone."
The Overlord stopped moving.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
"You speak boldly for something so fragile," he said.
Garg bowed his head again. "I was chosen because my destruction would cost my master little."
That made the Overlord laugh.
Not loudly.
But dangerously.
"You are honest," the Overlord said. "I appreciate honesty."
His gaze lifted—sweeping the battlefield, the sky, the unseen.
I felt it then.
A probing pressure.
Not at me.
At the idea of me.
I tightened the scrying spell reflexively, reinforcing the concealment layers. Krakenskull did the same, anchoring the spell with abyssal warding.
The pressure passed.
The Overlord looked back down at Garg.
"Tell your master this," he said slowly. "I am… intrigued."
Garg's shoulders relaxed—barely.
"But understand," the Overlord continued, "that all alliances with me end the same way."
"Then my master will plan accordingly," Garg replied.
The Overlord smiled.
"Good."
With a wave of darkness, Garg was dismissed—cast back through shadow, alive.
The vision dissolved.
The scrying smoke retracted, leaving Krakenskull and me alone once more.
The Overlord had not noticed us.
But he had noticed the possibility.
I rested both hands on my staff, eyes narrowing.
"He's interested," I said quietly.
Krakenskull rumbled approval.
"Interest is the first crack."
"Yes," I replied. "And cracks are where empires break."