In a random multiverse, Ichor, the Demon Lord of Corrosion, floated on his back. He was bored.
Around him, the skeletal remains of lifeforms drifted aimlessly, their cores dissolved into corrosive slime, the entire multiverse felt corrosive.
He flicked a finger, and a nearby planet melted into a puddle of sludge in seconds. It was effortless.
"I am bored," Ichor groaned, his voice vibrating through the multiverse, "We haven't found a single God in the last three years. They are all… gone. Let's return to the capital. At least there, I can corrode something that screams."
Beside him, Maledictus, the Lady of Curses, sat cross-legged on the fabric of space itself.
Her eyes, pools of swirling darkness, were fixed on the distant expanse of the multiverse.
