The deep-sea predator thrashed in Marchosias’s mouth, struggling for life. The demon snorted contemptuously at its futile resistance. With one final almighty crunch, Marchosias snapped the strange, jelly-like spine of the enormous, glowing eel-shark.Now with helpless prey in his mouth, the demon began its ascent from the depths of the ocean. Neither the cold nor the dark bothered it much. He was well-suited for the abyss — home for him was a place black beyond any mortal means of sight, and where the weight of entire worlds pressed.He was not alone in that sentiment. Despite the hazardous conditions of the ocean depths, an entire ecosystem persisted. The West’s malignant mana birthed enormous, vicious beasts — all preying endlessly on one another.More meat for him to harvest, then. The needs of his allies were desperate, and he — Marchosias, the first and most loyal of the Fourth’s new Archons — would not disappoint.Not ‘it’. ‘He’. The dragon mused to himself. I no longer refer to myself as a mere creature. Is this yet another sign of spiritual evolution?A pleasant sign of progress. Being a mindless puppet of Hell had its perks, but after a lifetime of stillness, a change was long overdue.Higher and higher Marchosias ascended, until at least a shred of light appeared in the dark. He saw the large form of the mutated corvette nestled within the crack of an undersea mountain. Along its back bloomed strange flora, greedily absorbing the light in pursuit of synthesising new chemicals.Marchosias hummed in disapproval. He sent a psychic (...)