Surprise… surprise… surprise… you’ll have to pardon my slow clap, but I’d think it obvious that the Lich Lord of any tale would begin existence as the villain. I confess I have never known what it is like to be alive. I was born dead, the tenth of nine who lived and died before me. I was born angry, I was born hateful, and all I can physically feel is cold. The first of my kind, I had no equal. Only the creator was more powerful than me and only Hell can hold me. I often wonder why he did not stop me. I’d like to think he could not have. That he had no choice but to watch, but I know it would have been all too easy for him. Why didn’t he stop me? Unimpeded, I took all the Realms of the Dead rather easily, but when I rose to the Realms of the Living I met my rival, Charles Lu Spiphy. He was created by the old Gods before I had defeated them in the Underrealms and under his protection I could not take the 699 Living Realms under the Living Heaven. Not a single world, but I was clever and I was cruel. I took what he loved while he was distracted. I defiled her, I killed her, I reanimated her, and I twisted her into something nightmarish. I sent her to kill him. He disappeared soon after he removed the zombie that had once been his only daughter from existence. At long last, I was free to take everything into Undeath, but before I could it vanished. In the blink of an eye 699 entire Living Universes just vanished like they were never there. Even God was gone and Heaven had died. Only the Underrealms and the Dead remained. In a way, I got exactly what I wanted, I suppose. For eons everything bowed to me, but as time passed me by my anger and hate became sorrow and regret. Thinking back on my conquest, all I remember of the 700 Living Realms was how beautiful it all was. I began to see no point in Death without Life and, after much thought, I desided would attempt to resurrect Life. I was unable to return Life to the Dead back then, however. I could only create Undead and I required help. I went to Heaven, but she wanted nothing to do with me. I went to Hell, and the Devil laughed at my pain. I scoured the near infinite Underrealms and Undead leaving no stone unturned, but all I found was myself. And I wept. I wept until I had no more tears to weep and when I was done I wiped my eyes. To my surprise, when I opened them again my tears were looking back at me. It rubbed up against me and I could feel it. Its cool rushing waters emitted a warmth I could only imagine is similar to that of a sun in a Living World’s midday sky. It was pure and not at all like me. From that day forward I would be able to return to Life anything that had died within a twenty-four hour window and, no matter how hard I try, to this day I cannot shed a single tear. There was no other way to describe it. I would call it Epic, and Epic is all of my tears. Together we created a new Multiverse devoid of Death. Life grew with or without our help after that and I watched as things more beautiful than I could ever imagine came into being all on their own, but I had forgotten about my predecessors. My original Nine Deaths had returned. I sought the aid of Heaven, but she told me that this was not her problem. I could never blame her for that. Desperate to protect Epic and save our creation, I turned to Hell and made the Devil a deal. I was the first Wyyvern and Epic was the second, but more had been born since Epic and I started creating. I hunted the Wyyvern born because of Hell’s existence and with the souls of two willing fallen Angels, Frozen and Ash, I created the first Wyyvern weapons and gave them to Satan. In return he imprisoned each of the Nine within a separate circle of Hell, but the damage was already done. Death had returned, reintroduced to the Living. Life found a way, however, and everything seemed to balance itself out. I stepped aside and allowed the circle of Life take over, but I should have stayed, because as soon as I left Life began to vanish. Not nearly as quickly as the 700 Realms had, but at an alarming rate nonetheless. Epic and I returned to face whatever was threatening our Multiverse, but when I saw who it was, what he was doing, and realized what he had done I went to Heaven and bagged her to protect Epic. I tried to make her a deal, but she told me to just leave Epic and go. Thankful that Epic was now safe, I went to confront him. My rival. Calling himself Mr. Spiphy, he had forgotten who I was and what I had done to him, but the scar I had left on him festered nevertheless. He knew only the pain and had forgotten why it was there. He made me deal. He told me to kill him and that if I could not, or would not, he would devour every Living thing in my Multiverse just as he had devoured the 699 Living Realms under Heaven and the God who created them all before. So I fought him, but just as before I could not defeat him. My body count filled an entire Universe, spilling out into the Void between Realms where Wyyverns dwell, yet I could not overwhelm him with my numbers. I failed. I was about to lose everything and I could not even weep over it, but as the Devourer of Life opened his mouth, he was struck. He was wounded. Heaven had been watching and saw how hard I fought to protect the Life I knew I did not deserve. She sent the Horsemen, and countless Dead from before me, who had lived and died within the 700 realms, marched with them. We fought hard for eons, but even Famine, Strife, War, and Death could not grant him his deathwish. Disappointed, Mr. Spiphy set out to devour my Multiverse vowing to do it slowly in order to bring me pain for my failure, but I was not going to give up so easily. With the Horsemen at my side, I hunted down the Wyyverns that were born because they exist. With the corresponding soul of their individual Horseman, I forged the Wyyvern weapons of the Apocalypse. I knew that the Dead could never defeat Mr. Spiphy, so I would allow Life the chance to defend itself. I sent the Wyyvern Chain-linked Incense Burners of Famine, the Wyyvern Artillery of Strife, the twin Wyyvern Chainsaw Swords of War, and the Wyyvern Scythe of Death each to a different Universe to choose a wielder. While I awaited their return, I created a puzzle box to hold Mr. Spiphy and, with Heaven’s approval, proclaimed him the Committer of 700 Deadly Sins, so that the Devil could not dispute his damnation. During our last battle Mr. Spiphy devoured all Life, as he said he would, and only the Living Wyyvern Knights of Apocalypse remained, but when the dust settled he was locked away. Imprisoned in Hell, but I knew better. Despite my fear of his return, I agreed to create a second Multiverse under Heaven with Epic on the condition that Heaven become a Wyyvern weapon to be wielded by a Knight Wyyvern-forged with Hell against the Devourer upon his return. Heaven agreed on the condition that she would choose a wielder before she would be forged. I agreed and I waited, creating twenty-nine Wyyvern weapons before her and more still after her out of necessity, request, and inspiration. I perfected my craft. If only I had realized that my efforts to prepare for the Devourer’s return would be the only reason why he ever would. But hey, everything else is my fault, why should this be any different. At least he has forgotten his ability to permanently remove the Dead from existence, or has he been holding back all this time?

-Stu, the Nekolich, Writer-