The Northern Everfrost. A region where innumerable fields of ice and snow stretch as far as the eye can see. As the point of convergence for the world’s ice element, the ice caps here average miles in diameter and boast a strength higher than steel. 

It is upon a particularly large ice cap that an opulent tower of gold fitted with all manner of wards and enchantments stands. Its surface unblemished, seemingly untouched by neither frost nor howling winds. 

Though, even to the most astute observer, there would be nothing there at all.

In spite of the chilling winds outside, within the tower’s highest chamber sits a small, hunchbacked old man in loose robes. He sits unperturbed, eyes wandering lazily, though looking at nothing in particular. 

Silently, he sifts through memories of his life. Reminiscing of a journey that should have long reached its conclusion, prolonged unnaturally through foul rituals and arcane spells. 

The empire he was born into lost to the pages of history. The people he once had ties to long passed as well.

He was alone now. 

He was for quite some time, but the memories of the people he met, of the friendships and comradery fostered during his travels were as clear as an icy stream. 

Though he had no regret in outliving them all. The dream he pursued was, and still is, worth all sorrowful partings, past, present, and future. Not to say such partings hurt any less.

Perhaps that was why he decided to hide away from the world in his old age. To become hyper focused in his work and dream. To distract himself from his thoughts and emotions. 

Mortals. He was still technically one, not yet crossing the threshold into immortality. Though still stronger than most beings that would call themselves gods. Not that there weren’t precedents of mortals shattering the heavens and tearing deities from their lofty heights. Their lives were short, but they made up for it with their potential and ambition. 

They could even find ways to extend their pitifully short lives. Though such methods won’t last forever, eventually wasting away until nothing but the stories of their deeds remains.

And he, Arcanist Enrich, like most other mortals, was a brilliant inferno that had burned through all its fuel. Slowly dying out and fading away.

And now, teetering on the edge, that dream of eternity is but a few steps to being realized. Though the next step will be one of no return, forever turning his back on his humanity. Even more than he already has.

Turning his attention away from the myriad of messy notes filled with magical jargon littered throughout the room, the archmage looks down at an item grasped in his long, wizened fingers. Upon his palm lay a gold bracelet - an intricate serpent, devouring its tail. 

It was an artifact he crafted in his youth. Made in a time where his goal of immortality was set out of youthful ignorance. What were the shackles of mortality to a talented mage born to nobility? Peers and sycophants alike parroted the notion, shouting that he was destined for greatness. 

They were right. A shame none of them lived to see him become what he is today. He was grateful for their “selfless” contribution, after all.

What would they think of me, I wonder? What would they say? Curse me, probably. 

Well, longevity seemed simple at the time. After all, countless races were inherently long-lived. Not to say that it was purely a racial characteristic, either. Stories of humans turned vampire or lich were commonplace. Though those served more as cautionary tales than anything else. He felt that it was only a matter of time before he stumbled upon one that fit his preferences. 

He’d studied many instances of longevity before. Though with none of the finesse he has now. It was quite… messy then.

Looking back, the only thing back then that equaled his pride was perhaps his luck. Though at the time he believed it to be a work of providence rather than just blind luck. Like stumbling upon the prerequisites for the rare [Dimension Mage] subclass, allowing him to traverse different worlds entirely. It came at a time where he’d needed it most as well. Running afoul with the world’s guardians after a ritual was a bit too successful. Exploring the vast and endless multiverse was a truly eye-opening experience. 

Very, very dangerous, too. It was during that time that he had his hubris shattered. His humility was learned the hard way, though luckily not hard enough to completely break him. A brief touch with insanity. He was very fortunate to be experienced in matters of the soul beforehand, otherwise things would have been a lot more… unpleasant. 

Now, he knew better. “Simple” forms of true immortality were simply dead ends. Eternal life at the cost of one’s ego or at the whims of some enigmatic being whose thoughts were impossible to divine was no immortality at all. Nor did he wish to play an endless game of cat and mouse throughout the multiverse, hiding in some forgotten corner hoping no one finds him. He experienced it once, and it only stopped once he thoroughly exterminated his pursuer and both everyone and everything associated with them. A decidedly unpleasant experience that tied him down for hundreds of years. And something he did not wish to experience again, especially scaled up to infinity.

Over time, he would come to terms with the fact that every solution to immortality had a price to be paid. A shackle, a curse, a binding. Whatever the method, there would always be some factor that would dissuade him from using it. 

Nevertheless, despite the unfortunate twists and turns made while grasping blindly in the dark, the path was eventually made clear. While not perfect, as it meant giving up a large portion of his autonomy, it certainly beats the alternatives.

The answer? 

Artificing. 

What he had once picked up as a passing hobby would be the path he chose to an endless life. 

Looking back, it’s quite ironic, really. Despite all that manic searching… and that unfortunate incident… the solution was right there… right in front of me all along. 

That dream from many millenniums ago had not diminished in the slightest. In fact, with the knowledge gained, there exists a reason to fear death. Well, if one valued what he valued, anyway. 

But that was all behind him. Hopefully. Now, he had confidence in his success. His eternity was at hand, and nothing would ruin this moment.

He cast [Appraise].

Ouroboros - Token of Obsession

Equip Requirement: LVL 75

Equipment Type: Accessory 

Durability: 100,000/100,000

Effects:

1: Consumes excess Mana Regen to slow everything that affects aging, in both the soul and body. Effectiveness is determined by the amount of Mana consumed. 

1a: Slows leveling proportionally

1b: Wearer is less prone to change, both physically and mentally.

2: Calculate time until natural death

Current Effect: 

<1% Slowdown

320 Days until death

Crafted by an ambitious wizard utilizing his understanding of souls in a vain attempt to ward off death. While it doesn’t fulfill its objective completely, it still provides the user with a lifespan far beyond the average of their kind. Provided they use it in their youth, of course. 

Through the careful study of magic, soul, and body, Enrich developed a deep understanding of life. He was quite fortunate to find the study enthralling in and of itself, rather than a chore to further his goal. There was just something enticing about life, in all its forms, that he couldn’t get enough of it.

It was through this knowledge that he was able to create this bracelet, serving as an ever-present reminder of his mortality. Back then, it was this reminder that pushed him to challenge his limits. 

To stagnate was to wait for death. An adage that I held close to my chest back then, and one that has proven itself correct time and again. 

However, despite his best efforts to stave off death, at over 7000 years old, he felt himself at death’s door. Even the most masterfully crafted potions made from the most potent of ingredients in this world would not even buy him a day anymore.

It was a fact he lived with for the past hundreds of years or so. He had expected it to come eventually, seeing himself get diminishing returns despite finding new methods far and wide. 

Which made it quite the blessing that his preparations beforehand were able to be expedited to account for that. As a result, he threw himself to his side project with a zeal uncharacteristic of a man his age. Though, in the end, everything was finished with a bit of time to spare. 

The most tedious and difficult part is complete. The core is finished, and I can purify my soul during the ritual. 

Now, just a spark to set everything off… and a catalyst to keep things going... 

The souls in this world will suffice. They’re on the weaker side of things. I’d expected them to develop more in the past few centuries but those dragons were more active than I anticipated. 

I’ll just have to foot the difference myself, then.

Enrich rose up from his chair with a slight grunt. There was a reason why most mages after 500 preferred to use either a [Levitate], [Fly] or [Teleport] spell to get around. Enrich himself counted among their number as well, which played no small part in his now atrophied legs. Though, no amount of exercise could reverse their decay at this age. He was alone here, now, so he was able to forgo this luxury to savor what little time he had left with a physical, human body. Though, if anything, all it did was remind him why he made his choice. 

With shaky steps, Enrich walked over to a gaudy mirror across the room. His gait more fitting for a senior struggling to walk down the road than an all-powerful archmage. As a matter of fact, if he did walk down the street of a crowded city no one would be able to tell the difference. Well, if he put away the shimmering artifacts and enchanted robe, of course. 

Gone were the days where he would carry himself with pride. The unceasing march of time eroded it all, whether it be hubris, charm, excitement, or even warmth, an emaciated face with a long, unkempt, beard was all that was left. Despite the relative peace in the past few months, red, bloodshot eyes tinged with a hint of insanity still looked back at him. 

A ghost of a man, bearing no resemblance to the bold figure in his memory. 

Did I grow more unhinged during my time alone? No. That’s impossible. I can recognize my insanity now. That was not the case then.

He had long forcefully excised the portion of his soul containing the memory, though he still keeps around the products of his delirium - a number of scrawlings bound within a tome. It was still knowledge, after all. Though dangerous, it provides interesting insights into the soul. 

It was the event that drove him to pursue immortality in earnest. 

Even now, he carries scars from that encounter.

Status

Name: Enrich Von Hastur

Titles: Expand?

Age: 7360

Total Level: [Hidden] 5134 / [Shown] 510

Mana: 4,100,587,900

Attributes:

Expand?

Race: Human [Eldritch Taint]

Subrace: Crawling Chaos of a Thousand Faces [Tainted]

Skills: Expand?

Main Class: Artificer of Eternity

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 1: Master Arcanist

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 2: [Hidden] Archon of Souls 

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 3: Elemental Archmage

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 4: [Hidden] Riftwalker / [Shown] Space Mage

Skills: Expand?

General Skills: 

Expand?

Condition: Twilight, Eldritch Taint[0.01%]

The status. A culmination of over 7000 years of dedication, triumph, and trauma.

And nothing tells the story of trauma better than the condition [Eldritch Taint]. It also goes to show how far he traveled. Most mortals wouldn’t find any traces of an eldritch presence unless they were very, very unlucky. Though they would be hard-pressed to avoid it after they died. But that was beside the point. 

Despite standing for just a few minutes, he started to feel his knees buckle. His body could hardly keep up without the support of magic. 

“[Levitate], [Teleport].”

Upon the cast, his surroundings immediately shifted. The target destination was the place he usually did his tinkering, a hollowed out area underneath the tower spanning 

A spacious room filled with magi-tech apparatuses immediately came into view. Though even with the fancy equipment all around, one thing stood out above the rest. Largely due to the distance from it and the rest of the equipment. In the middle of the room was an altar. Around it were circles upon circles of gold, forming the bedrock for which a massive ritual would be conducted.

Upon that altar was an intricate orb no larger than a marble, and one might even mistake it for one at first glance. From the outside, it had no special features, a monochrome gold from all sides. 

It was finally time. Everything was ready. The ritual could begin.

Their sacrifice will not be in vain. Their souls will live on. They will be a part of something far greater than themselves. 

A part of me.

Apollyon. My magnum opus. 

Apollyon

Equip Requirement: LVL 1

Durability: N/A

Effects:

N/A

An inactive artifact core