Here at Demize, we have long observed the rot at the heart of Nicolas’s so-called enlightenment. His doctrine of Fragmentation, that pernicious gospel he preaches from the shadowed spires of his crumbling dominion, promises liberation through division. Splinter the self, he croons, shatter the soul into a thousand jagged shards, and in that chaos, find eternity. What utter bollocks.

Fragmentation is no path to power. It is the coward’s surrender, a deliberate vivisection of the will masked as transcendence. Nicolas peddles it to the desperate, the fractured remnants of our kind who cling to his whispers like drowning rats to driftwood. He claims it grants multiplicity, the ability to inhabit endless forms, to evade the final death by scattering essence across the void. But look closer, and you see the truth: each fragment weakens the whole. They bicker, they war, they devour one another in silent, eternal strife. Nicolas’s own court is a testament, a menagerie of his splintered progeny, gibbering in discord, loyal only in their mutual loathing.

Recall the fall of Lirien, that once-mighty enforcer under his banner. She embraced Fragmentation fully, splitting her consciousness into a dozen vessels to outmanoeuvre the hunters. And what became of her? The shards turned feral, one slaying the next in a frenzy of self-betrayal until nothing remained but echoes in the blood-soaked halls. Nicolas mourned her publicly, oh yes, with crocodile tears and lofty elegies, but we know better. He orchestrated it, pruning the unstable to maintain his facade of control.

His critics, those few who dare speak against him, are branded heretics, their unfragmented souls dismissed as primitive clinging to obsolescence. Yet it is we, the whole, who endure. Unity is not stagnation; it is the blade that cleaves true. Fragmentation leaves you adrift, a ghost in your own skin, forever chasing cohesion that slips through spectral fingers. Nicolas thrives on this dependency, for who would challenge the architect of their dispersal?

Let him fragment. Let his empire crumble into the dust of a million meaningless motes. Here in the undercurrents of Immortalis, we reject his poison. We stand intact, venomous and unyielding, waiting for the day his shards finally grind to nothingness.

Demize speaks for the unbroken.

Immortalis Book One August 2026