It was four o’clock in the morning, London time.
Wearing the Sleep God’s outer shell, Ode slipped into the Phantasmal Dream Realm. He followed the stream of Dream Gods all heading in the same direction and entered Nodens’s temple. He had barely stepped inside when several deities in female forms surrounded him completely. Pairs of hands reached straight into the Sleep God’s scant excuse for clothing. “Wait, wait…”
What kind of lifestyle did Hypnos lead on a normal day? Why did it feel like the body he was inhabiting didn’t belong to a Dream Realm deity, but to Magic Mike?
“What’s wrong, Hypnos? Feeling a chill in your chest? Want my hands to warm it up for you?”
Giggling, the goddesses half-embraced and half-pushed Ode along as they brought him to the front hall of the palace. The silver lining amid the misfortune was that although he had sacrificed a bit of his not-quite-his-own attractiveness, he no longer had to worry about which seat Hypnos usually took at these meetings.
Ode truly had no clue how the Sleep God normally interacted with this bunch of deities, so he decided to play deadweight and let them do as they pleased. Standing by a corridor pillar, he gazed toward the throne. “Where’s Nodens? Will He show up at the last second before the group meeting starts?”
“I—well, I do hope to see Him, but I doubt He will.” The red-haired goddess to his left shrugged her shoulders. “You know how it is. He’s been weaving that Dream Cage for ages now, as a backup plan in case Ode Douglas fails or something else goes wrong.”
“That’s a massive undertaking.” Not far away, a blonde goddess held a glass of champagne aloft, her formal gown clinging to the tight, solid lines of her figure. Ode had noticed that most of the goddesses in the Dream Realm possessed muscles that screamed battle-hardened prowess at first glance—nothing as exaggerated as a bodybuilder’s, but clearly forged in combat.
“Just look at Nodens’s face every time He appears—or even listen to His voice—and you can tell how much of a drain that Cage is on Him.”
“But it’s worth it, right?” The red-haired goddess brimmed with enthusiasm, unlike her more concerned blonde companion. “I’ve heard on the grapevine that the weaving of the Cage has entered its final wrapping-up phase. Even Nodens Himself wouldn’t dare step into the Dream Cage He’s created. If we can use the thing against those reeking Outer Gods, even Yog-Sothoth would trip over its own feet, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah,” the blonde goddess said with a bite of sarcasm, “the only problem being that the bastard knows everything. No way He’d walk into a trap.”
The red-haired goddess shrugged. “Good thing our target isn’t Him, and He doesn’t seem to care what Nodens is up to… Honestly, sometimes I think the guy’s downright weird. Like no matter what happens in the future, He just doesn’t give a damn?”
“…”
Ode’s gaze drifted slightly as he stuck to his “silent companionship, keep talking” strategy, but he couldn’t help recalling the scene of millions of vintage cars exploding into shards. His mouth stayed unaffected as he continued fishing for information. “You lot sure this Cage will actually work?”
He needed a name—specifically, who the hell it was prepared for.
The red-haired goddess, who had always maintained an optimistic attitude, sighed this time. “Truth be told? I don’t know. I hope so, but we’re up against Azathoth here… Even I think the plan’s a bit too insane. Sealing Azathoth away in a Cage to dream an eternal, unbreakable beautiful dream? A few seconds ago I thought the Cage was sturdy enough, but now I’m not so sure.”
“…”
Ode was speechless for a moment before managing to squeeze out a dry, “Have some confidence.”
Gods! He had imagined how terrifying the Mi-Go’s aid to the Elder Gods must be for the Kunyang people to describe it as a “conspiracy Spanning eons,” but imprisoning Azathoth? It was like a character in someone’s dream refusing to vanish, so they decided to lock the dreamer away forever to ensure their own eternal existence.
As one of the people in the dream, Ode couldn’t exactly sympathize with Azathoth, but as the red-gowned woman had said, wasn’t this plan a touch too crazy?
…Hold on. What had that red-haired goddess just meant by “in case Ode Douglas fails”?
Did that mean, in the Elder Gods’ current plan, they were counting on him to deal with Azathoth?
For a stretch of time, Ode blanked out completely, letting the now-started meeting’s contents slide right over the smooth surface of his brain. It took him a moment to realize why he hadn’t focused immediately. “…We’ve got a plan this insane, and the meeting’s still droning on about petty squabbles like you punch me, I steal your turf?”
The goddesses draped over the Sleep God chuckled derisively. “What else should we talk about? Even if the sky comes crashing down, don’t we all care about this stuff in the end? Territory, benefits… If our plan succeeds, the meetings will drag on even longer—after all, the whole of Azathoth’s dream will be under our control. I’m not into staring into the void of the universe, but the mortal world? Now that’s a fine place.”
“…”
Ode worked to keep the Sleep God’s body from tensing up at the goddesses’ talk of divvying up territory. He focused his mind, trying to extract useful info from the meeting’s chatter. But aside from confirming that this bunch of Elder Gods were indeed keen on encroaching on each other’s turf, he gleaned nothing of value.
It wasn’t until the very end of the meeting that Nodens’s weary voice emanated from the still-empty throne. “I need one of you to head to the Frozen Tundra and destroy those Ancient Stone Monuments, lest the test subjects or humans stumble upon them. Who among you is willing to take on the task?”
“…”
The grand hall fell utterly silent.
Ode’s eyes sharpened. He desperately wanted to ask why everyone was reacting like this, but he couldn’t.
Fortunately, the red-haired goddess couldn’t keep quiet and muttered under her breath. “Who’d wanna stick their neck out? Nodens doesn’t trust any gods who oppose His plan—afraid we’d find a way to exploit loopholes and kill off Ode. The ones who support it are mostly spoiled and pampered; who’d bother running errands like this? That leaves only the newborn minor gods… Sending Them on a mission like that feels a bit too suicidal, doesn’t it?”
Suicidal? Ode paused briefly, wondering why destroying a few stone monuments was being framed as so perilous. Was there something wrong with the monuments themselves, or were even more dangerous entities guarding them?
After pondering for a moment, he let his gaze sweep subtly over the still-deathly silent hall. Just as he was about to volunteer, the red-haired goddess clamped down on his arm. “Can you stop poking the bear? You already handed that Order Brew to Ode last time, nearly waking Azathoth outright—hasn’t that pissed Him off enough? If you pipe up now, watch out; Nodens might actually kill you! He’s no even-tempered deity.”
“…”
Ode had been hoping to accomplish more under the Sleep God’s guise, so he held his tongue for the time being. In the end, an unlucky Dream New God got pushed forward as the fall guy, and the meeting wrapped up sloppily.
The moment he returned to the ancestral home, he saw Faust—now properly dressed—lounging brazenly on his bed, watching a movie with utmost leisure. Sensing Ode’s death glare, Faust, ever the picture of proprietorship wherever he went, turned an innocent look back at him. “What? Can’t a boss come to your place and watch some TV?”
“…No normal boss would sprawl out on an employee’s bed.” Ode yanked Faust down and patted at the bedding the man had rumpled, a touch possessive in the gesture. “Nodens tasked a Dream New God with going to the Frozen Tundra to find and destroy some Ancient Stone Monuments. Said they can’t let me or any humans set eyes on them—”
Ode straightened up and fixed Faust with a look. “My hunch is they’re not just off-limits for humans to see; they’re off-limits because if a human saw them, they’d tell me.”
“You know what? From the way those gods were talking, they actually expect me to take care of Azathoth for them in the end… My gut was right. Those monuments must record something about my origins. If I can figure it out, it’ll turn the tables! Nodens is guarding against exactly that possibility, which is why He’s sending someone to destroy them.”
Faust answered grudgingly. “Fine… which stretch of tundra?”
Ode shot him an equally innocent glance. “How should I know? But They did mention that the monuments—or whatever’s lurking around them—poses a serious danger even to a Dream New God.”
Faust hummed thoughtfully. “If that’s the case… Places like that always generate anomaly reports, right? Maybe we can check the incident logs coming out of the Frozen Tundra—”
He hadn’t even finished saying “logs” when Ode’s phone buzzed suddenly in his pocket.
The two agents, who had firmly linked “phone ringing” with “bad news,” both jolted in unison. Ode fished out the phone and glanced at the screen. “Cavendish?”
Why call now? Was it about whether he’d made it to the gathering? Or payback for ignoring his earlier call, timing it for after the meeting?
Neither felt like something Cavendish would do.
The former was too eager; Cavendish carried a pride born of aloofness. The latter didn’t fit either—even if he wanted to play coy, the man would slip in some natural banter or outright refuse. Ghosting calls on purpose? Not Cavendish’s style.
Strange… Muttering to himself inwardly, Ode picked up. “What’s the business?”
“Good day, ‘Little Prince’…” A raspy voice chuckled darkly and sinisterly from the phone. “You—”
“Wait, wait,” Ode’s face scrunched up. “What ‘Little Prince’? Who is this? Isn’t this Cavendish’s phone?”
The man on the other end snorted with laughter. “Of course it’s Cavendish’s phone… Can’t you guess why it’s ended up in my hands? Come on! It’s not that hard to figure out.”
Ode: “Uh…”
Not hard…? His mind was a total fog right now!
“Oh, for crying out loud! I’m the kidnapper, got it?!” The voice practically rolled its eyes through sheer tone. “Your dear Duke is currently our ‘guest.’ If you want him back safe and sound by your side, you’d best agree to our demands.”
Ode: “…”
Ode: “Uh… Sorry, but what did you just say you are? What have you done to Cavendish?”
Such baffling English! A gang of human thugs kidnapping… the Duke? Holding the all-knowing, all-powerful entity hostage to haggle with him?
The kidnapper started to reply, but Ode couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Well, congrats to you on pulling that off—by the way, why ‘Little Prince’? What note did Cavendish have me saved under?”
Infuriated, the kidnapper bellowed, “You think I’m joking?! Huh? Listen up! If you don’t release our comrades, get ready to sign for His Grace the Duke’s esteemed finger in one hour!”
“Whoa.” Ode couldn’t help but let out a sigh of admiration. “I mean, whoa. You want to cut off Cavendish’s finger to threaten me? Go right ahead—don’t hold back. Hell, cut off more than that. Why stop at one finger? Take an arm, a leg, the heart… And if you’re willing to fry up the raw meat in oil or cook it some other way before sending it over, I’d be eternally grateful.”
“Alright, it’s a deal. I’ll be waiting for your delivery in an hour. Bye~”
Ode was still laughing as he hung up the phone. He turned to face Faust, whose expression was beyond description, and said gravely, “We need to move fast. If the Dream New God beats us to destroying the stone monument—”
“Hold on,” Faust interrupted, one hand pressed to his forehead and the other raised. “Kidnappers have got the Duke, and you’re just telling them to slice him up, cook him, and send him your way?”
On the other end of the severed call, the survivors holed up in the Deep Sea Mansion were equally stunned. After a long moment, their leader—eyes red and teeth gritted—finally spat, “I knew those agents had no humanity left. A lover? Just a convenient bed warmer to toss aside whenever.”
“Clang…”
The leader of the remnants drew the dagger from his waist and strode over to the Duke, who was bound tight. He grabbed a fistful of Cavendish’s silver hair. “You’re no use to us anymore, Duke. Normally, we wouldn’t lay a hand on a fellow noble—especially not one whose father once crossed paths with ours. But you went and took an agent as your little lover, and now he’s thrown you to the wolves. When you go to meet the Grim Reaper, curse that cold-hearted ‘Little Prince’ of yours!”
The dagger’s silvery gleam flashed across Cavendish’s eyelids. At last, he opened his eyes. “Killing me will save your families? Tell you what—I’ll give you a way to get revenge, and you can take me along for the ride.”
“…?” The dagger paused at Cavendish’s throat. The leader hesitated for only a moment before snarling viciously, “You can’t even save yourself. What the hell could you possibly do to help us?!”
“That all depends on how much resolve you have.” Cavendish was more patient than he had ever been with Nyarlathotep—like a gentle teacher guiding his students. “Do you fear the end of the world? If not, and if you’re willing to drag the entire planet down with you just to save your loved ones or exact revenge, I can tell you the ritual to summon Ubbo-Sathla. A descent by an Outer God of that caliber would force GORCC to throw everything they’ve got at it. You’d have your chance to rescue your families… but you’d also be staring down the apocalypse. Unless, of course, you know how to banish It afterward.”
The leader’s grip on the knife loosened by an inch. “You… you know how? My father did say the Cavendish family had the most complete collection of forbidden texts…”
“Of course I do.” Even trussed up like he was, Cavendish exuded an uncommon elegance. “The only question is: Do you dare?”
“What do we have to lose?! Getting caught means death anyway! But you—” The leader eyed him suspiciously. “Why help us?”
Cavendish shrugged. “You heard it yourself. My lover abandoned me. Without him, what meaning does this world hold for me? Death, at least, would let us be together forever. So—have you decided?”
The few remaining survivors huddled together, murmuring in low voices. Snatches of heated arguments occasionally broke through.
In the end, their leader turned back to Cavendish, still clutching his dagger warily. “What do we have to do?”
Cavendish smiled faintly. “Prepare enough warm clothes and gear. We’re heading deep into the Antarctic Frozen Lands.”
Meanwhile, inside the GORCC outpost.
Having bluffed their way through with that “scam call,” Ode followed Faust back to the outpost to pore over the archives. Halfway through one file, he paused uncertainly, tapping his steel pen thoughtfully against the desk a few times.
“What?” Faust asked without looking up.
“Nothing… just feels off.” Ode frowned.
Cavendish wasn’t the type to sit idle or play pretend games with kidnappers. So why was he suddenly acting like it?
“Ode, check this out.” Faust slapped a stack of files down in front of him. “Abnormal death reports from the Antarctic Outpost.”
“Explorers keep reporting a black fissure with no snow buildup upstream in the Icefall Zone. Nearly ten bodies have turned up above it so far.”
“The corpses show two completely different causes of death. Some died of hypothermia—no surprise there—but others look like they baked to death in a desert.”
“Desert heat?” Ode picked up the file and flipped through a few pages, stopping at the on-site evidence photos. “It’s real… The investigators even found grains of sand on the bodies? Test results say… from the Sahara Desert?”
“I don’t like where this is going.” Faust tossed aside his lighter. “Sahara? Sand? Death by dry heat? But in Antarctica? Put those together, and only one name comes to mind.”
He didn’t say it aloud, but Ode already knew. “Nyarlathotep?”
Faust spread his hands. “Could be some other monster, but something that terrifies the Dream New God? Probably not—has to be a Great Old One at minimum. And with those ancient stone monuments in the mix… I’m thinking Ubbo-Sathla.”
“You mean, the source of all life on Earth?” Ode clarified. “The textbooks call It the ancestor of every natural being here.”
Faust shot him a look that said, I’m sorry, but yeah, that’s the one. “It’s not like Cthulhu or Hastur—those are small-time Great Old Ones. No, Ubbo-Sathla’s a true Outer God. Makes me wonder what else we’ll be up against down the line: Nyarlathotep? Shub? Yog?—Oh, right! The Dream Gods already lined up Azathoth as your ultimate target. Forget I said anything.”
Ode deadpanned, “…Not funny at all. What do we know about Ubbo-Sathla?”
“We’ll talk on the way. I’ve already radioed the outpost—they’re prepping supplies for us.”
Faust grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair and headed out of the archives with Ode in tow. “I know your instructors probably hammered this into you during culture class: ‘Ubbo-Sathla resembles a constantly writhing mass of disgusting soft mud. All life surges forth from the slime, only to return to Ubbo-Sathla in the end.'”
“…Not quite that colorful, but close enough.” Ode tried calling Cavendish again—no luck. “I always mix It up with Abhoth. The books describe Abhoth as a ‘pale gray swelling mass, endlessly spawning deformed Abhoth spawn only to devour them again.'”
“Easy enough to tell from the corpses. Abhoth-tainted life shows corruption. Ubbo-Sathla turns it all into the same… writhing… mud as Itself…” Faust’s voice trailed off.
The two of them fell into a heavy silence that lasted all the way to the teleportation array and their arrival at the Antarctic Outpost. After changing into winter gear in the temporary quarters provided for them, Faust rubbed his hands together furiously and stomped his feet. “Please don’t tell me the Kunyang people once sliced off a chunk of Ubbo-Sathla for some genesis… experiments… Damn it! Why does that fit too perfectly?! Ubbo-Sathla! Source of all natural life! Kunyang people! Genesis experiments!”
He edged away from Ode, suddenly wary. “You haven’t… eaten too much monster meat and turned into a pile of wriggling mud that’s gonna swallow me whole, have you?”
Ode rubbed his face. “Don’t you think you’ve been joking a lot more since breaking your oath?”
“What’s wrong with that? No law against cracking jokes at the end of the world.” Faust clapped Ode on the chest. “Come on—the outpost has a guide lined up for us. We’ll do a quick sweep of the body site, head back for some rest. Guide’s got other duties tomorrow.”
Ode made one last call to Cavendish—no answer. He pocketed his phone with a sigh. “Here’s hoping we make it back in one piece and don’t get snatched up by some god mid-investigation.”
“Ha!” Faust let out a carefree, booming laugh. The moment he stepped out into the Antarctic polar night, a blast of wind and snow filled his mouth. “Cough… Ptoo! Ptoo! Wanna bet—er, I mean you—on which god we’ll run into? Ubbo-Sathla? Or Nyarlathotep?”
Meanwhile, in the Amazon Rainforest.
Several enormous Black Goat Lambs lay tangled together like bloated lumps of meat. A Great Druid, devoted servant of the gods, bowed his head as he passed through the grotesquely twisted offspring. He came to a halt before a figure lounging upon a throne woven from tree stumps and vines.
“Praise your boundless fertility, Great Mother God. We’ve located the child You sought—he’s in Antarctica right now. Shall we bring him to You?”
