Chapter 115 - Gods

At the moment when Salazar saved his High Sparrow somewhere in the far north of Westeros, now just at the North Pole, in an unusual structure amidst the vast snowy wasteland, a creature stirred.

Calling it human would be a stretch; even humanoid would be a challenge...

Nine heads... but not all of them had necks; some were fused together, like the two heads that almost seemed as one - one half resembling an empty skull while the other half lacked a face altogether.

The other head, sharing one neck but having two faces, also looked bifurcated; on one half was a knight's helmet, and on the other, just flames... simply flames.

The remaining heads each had their own necks.

For instance, one head resembled an ordinary medieval laborer; a broken nose, a bit dirty and sweaty.

Then there were heads resembling a mix of wolf and monkey, with the face of a young girl, and another with the visage of a kind mother...

And in the middle stood a head with the expression of a loving father on its face.

These heads shared one massive body, a huge body, resembling a giant in size, except the arms and legs didn't match such a body...

One leg was thick, seemingly from that body, while the other was much shorter and resembled a woman's; the right arm had no flesh on it, only bones, while the left arm was also feminine...

The creature somehow leaned against and sat, propped up against the wall of the unknown icy structure.

One of the heads spoke... Or rather, its half did - the half that looked like a knight's helmet.

There was also the face of an old woman.

"We did not receive one true believing soul... something is amiss with our calculations..."

Another head in the form of an old woman spoke as well.

"Yes, today fewer sheep died than necessary... *cough, cough, cough...*"

At that moment, the head in the middle, the head of a man resembling a typical father, intervened.

"This shouldn't be happening; today is the day when the Sept of Baelor was burned in flames. Why didn't we receive the soul of a deeply devout believer?"

"Perhaps it's just a misconception?"

"No, such faith is profound, and we would have felt a strong surge of power."

The heads pondered, until one of them retrieved a book.

"Alright, the explosion of the Sept of Baelor... here is his High Sparrow, this fanatic is missing... his faith still emanates power, but it has weakened..."

"Why? How is this possible? Why wasn't the priest present at the trial of the queen mother? And more importantly, why has his faith weakened, when he was a true fanatic!?"

"Quiet! Quiet! Unknown, tell us what you see?"

The half-headed entity with the skull and faceless halves spoke up.

"The world has changed!"

"What do you mean?"

"We are no longer in Westeros!"

"How is that!?"

"Well, we are in Westeros, but... there are seven extra continents."

"You mean what?"

"Yes, the records of ancient mages are true, the world was larger, and it is beginning to restore itself!"

"Hehehe, more faith!"

"I doubt it..."

"What do you mean!?"

The unknown entity replied.

"Everyone in the new parts of the world - can wield mana..."

"....."

"Are you sure?"

"Even in the ancient records, this was not the case! How could the entire world be filled with wizards!?"

"I don't know... there are a few wizards very close to our level..."

"!!?"

"Thirteen, to be exact... I also sense two sources of powerful energy, but they are not based on our Mana... and also..."

"What?"

"I sense Mana tainted by the power of faith resembling the power of death... I want to consume it! Are you faceless too?"

"Yes... I sense it..."

"Where is this type of Mana?"

"Somewhere near the city with the largest concentration of powerful wizards. There are currently five strong beings there..."

"Can you hide from them?"

"Not sure, but I can send our consciousness there to scout..."

"Good."

The other heads nodded in agreement, and the creature fell asleep once again.

The perspective shifts, and through the clouds, the scene transitions to England. Descending in an elevator, before their eyes appeared the hall of the branch of the Wizard Council in England.

"There, down."

The heads wasted no time and flew through the floor, heading downward. Until the unknown entity stopped at one of the doors. Flying through the door, they saw before them an elevation, upon which stood an arch radiating a deathly energy.

"There it is, we must consume it!"

The unknown and the faceless one growled in unison.

"Hold on, let's get closer. I sense the energy of faith emanating from within."

As the nine heads approached the arch, they felt someone calling out to them.

"Shall we enter?"

"Let's go, let's go, I want to devour this death energy faster!"

The unknown and the faceless one immediately pulled the others, diving into the strange space inside the arch.

Looking around, they saw nothing but gray mist and... souls, many souls floating above them, sometimes screaming, sometimes crying.

"Let's devour them!"

This time, the head with the face of a father didn't let them move forward, but instead looked to its right and said:

"Will we be waiting for you for long? Will you come out, or shall I force you out?"

"Hehe, no need to be in such a hurry. Besides, I doubt you're capable of truly harming me... What a pitiful path to godhood... a heap of different beliefs merging into one, but they cannot coexist peacefully, resulting in such a repulsive creature."

A man emerged from the mist, with sunken eyes, almost white skin, very thin, and equally tall, wearing a long black cloak. Yet, despite his sickly appearance, he still looked human.

Upon hearing the words of the thin man, the nine heads became extremely enraged and wanted to charge forward, but the thin man waved his hand, and from the tip of his finger flew a familiar green spell. It hit a soul floating nearby.

The unfortunate soul screamed and gradually began to transform into mist, the same gray mist that filled this strange place.

Seeing what the man had done, the nine heads suppressed their impulse; they had just felt extreme danger from that green beam.

"Now, can we talk? Let's start from the beginning. My name is Death, and I may need your help, as you may need mine."

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Meanwhile, in the department of mysteries, two strange creatures conversed. In Meereen, Asmodeus was invited to lunch by Daenerys.

Ascending a couple of staircases and traversing corridors, Asmodeus arrived at the familiar dining hall. Without waiting for Daenerys to offer him a seat, Asmodeus took the same place as last time.

Seated at the table today were Daenerys, Tyrion, Missandei, Daario Naharis, and the Gray Worm. Seeing how Asmodeus rudely poured himself wine, Daario wanted to remind him that he was in the presence of the queen, but Daenerys shook her head, signaling him to restrain himself.

She poured herself wine and said, "Lord Morningstar, I am ready to agree to your terms. But I would like to know more precisely what your support entails."

"I am pleased to hear this news, dear queen. You know, due to such a long wait, I had to ask a friend to save certain people who could be used as a backup plan..."

Daenerys clenched her fist and asked, "May I inquire who they are?"

"Margaret and Loras Tyrell. The Tyrells are the strongest of the great remaining houses; their people do not suffer, and one of the smartest women in your world manages the family. Moreover, if given a good opportunity, Margaret would make an excellent queen. She's kind and gentle with the common folk, but cunning and intelligent inside. Quite the ideal queen. Now, the Tyrells may not have sufficient military power for this, but... why am I here then? So, I am glad that you have decided to accept my offer, and I won't have to change my plans."

Honestly, if Daario Naharis had heard this earlier, he would have been counting down the time until the person who said it met their end. But today, he was surprised. He had heard a little about Asmodeus before, but now he finally understood roughly the kind of power this person must possess. At the very least, he was strong enough to defeat Daenerys's dragons, because Daario was sure that if someone not strong enough had started talking about supporting another queen in front of Daenerys... they would have been burnt to a crisp by a dragon long ago.

But to his surprise, Daenerys did not get angry, at least she didn't show it on her face. She simply said, "Then I'm glad I decided to give you an answer in time. So, what real conditions can you offer me in the process of your so-called assistance in seizing the Iron Throne?"

"Firstly, initially we—myself and my people, along with a small number of local natives—will deal with the issues in the north. The White Walkers are coming, and without my help, you won't be able to defeat them without losing a couple of dragons in the process. My task in all this is to distract Cersei with something and to provide forces to protect the rear if needed."

At this moment, Tyrion asked, "Can we talk about specifics? More precisely?"

"My subordinates, personally loyal to me rather than the council, will be sent to the northern front. This is the elite force I have been training for the past two years. They are very proficient in all forms of fire magic and mass destruction magic.

The Order of the Flame Knights, numbering 10,000. These are all elite wizards whose powers are enough to destroy your world."

Tyrion suddenly thought he had asked about numbers in vain...

"As for covering our rear, it will be the forces of the Council of Wizards. Two thousand will be more than enough, they will be under the command of one of the Archmages. Valchar is ready to take responsibility. By the way, it will be critical to explain clearly to your people who will stay to defend the rear that although there will be many non-human races among the forces of the council, they are all on our side. This is crucial! If I find out that someone is discriminating against my people because they are not like you... I think the Tyrells wouldn't be such a bad option."

"Speaking of other races, I think I can afford to deploy about a dozen dragons on the western front, for containment, so to speak."

Everyone in the hall swallowed. Ten dragons! That's roughly how many the Targaryens had altogether when they were at the height of their power! And here they're placing dragons on a not particularly important rear direction...

"In addition to military support, in the event of signing the contract, you will also receive from us provisions sufficient to feed a million adult men for a year. This will include not only wheat but also meat and fruit. Such assistance in provisioning will be provided regularly if you decide to accept our conditions, but the food that is not used for the army must be distributed to the peasants for free."

At that moment, people finally understood that the disparity in military power between the two worlds was the smallest aspect.

Food to sustain a million adult men for a year!!! This could easily feed the entire King's Landing without harvesting anything at all!

Who in Westeros or Essos could even sustain the consumption of a million soldiers?! No one! Only Highgarden might possibly support 150 thousand soldiers, but that's already a heavy burden for rural populations.

And here they're talking about a one-time delivery of food for a million men, adults! And it's not just oats or wheat; the ration will also include meat and fruit! Why are soldiers treated like nobles?!

"Lord Asmodeus, veering off the topic, may I ask what the population is currently in your world? Don't think anything bad; it's just that won't you bear too heavy a burden to provide food for a million people..." Tyrion wisely posed the question.

"Ha-ha-ha, don't worry, even if it's ten times more, our farmers won't notice it. For a more accurate comparison, I can tell you, in my world, there are currently 7 billion people. Hmm, you probably don't know what a billion is... It's a million millions, in short, nine zeros. As for food... at the moment, there's not a single place where people are starving. We produce food in surplus twice over. So, if the world's population doubles, we won't feel any problems. Honestly, farmers would only be happy. They're not happy that the majority of their produce goes towards making potions or feeding livestock."

Tyrion and the others began trying to count on their fingers... But they realized that feeding all of Westeros for Asmodeus was not just not a problem, but even unnoticeable in terms of consumption...

Tyrion couldn't understand how this could be... The city of Adastra was clearly not much bigger than Royal Harbour, and Royal Harbour currently housed half a million people. And both Adastra and King's Landing were capitals... but why did Westeros have less than 40 million people while the capital was only half as small...

Asmodeus, with his legitimacy, knew what Tyrion was thinking, so he added:

"Lord Tyrion, what you saw in Adastra cannot even describe one hundredth of my world. In Adastra, only wealthy wizards gather and those who are focused on studying magic or doing business. In addition, the city of Adastra has only existed for two years."

"!!!!!"

Daenerys stood up.

"Are you saying that enormous and magnificent city with paved stone roads and huge towers was built in just two years!?"

"It was built in eight months. It's a new capital, and we hired many construction brigades. Somewhere around 5,000 wizards worked simultaneously to finish the city on schedule, and then newcomers built their own homes."

"..."

"Alright, before signing the contract, I want to ask why we shouldn't attack the Iron Throne first. With your help, we can capture Royal Harbour in a couple of hours. So, what's the point of leaving a threat in the west?"

"Well, to absorb the kingdom, you'll need time to establish control and to make the people love you. It won't be quick, better to stir up more hatred towards Cersei. Besides, I mentioned that we'll set up a defense line in the rear. I didn't say that we wouldn't strike throughout Westeros."

"What do you mean?"

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