As my servants and I strode down the path towards the fortress, I activated one of my stranger powers; "Autopilot". That particular power allowed me to allow my instincts to completely guide my body while I turned inward for a moment to make important decisions. The moment I did that my body continued what it had been doing previously; making its way down the path towards the halfling fortress. 

My mind, on the other hand, turned to the symbols which adorned the edges of my mind's eye. These symbols were a number of different images, though easily the most important of them was the tiny spellbook which I knew embodied my "Grimoire". The "Grimoire" I internally possessed contained a list of every spell in the omniverse, and also detailed their effects, power, and more. More importantly than all of that, however, was the simple fact that this internal grimoire allowed me to cast any and all spells in existence. 

The "Grimoire" was an internal manifestation of the mighty power known as "Metamagnus". That frightening power granted me utter and unbounded lordship over magic allowing me to effortlessly cast any and all spells no matter how individually powerful or costly they'd otherwise be. My power over magic was well and truly unlimited and that was not something that I had explored properly until now. 

While my body slowly approached the edge of the fortress I focused my mental energies on scanning the contents of my grimoire. The powerful mental object was a mighty weapon in my vast arsenal but it was also one that I fully intended to master to the greatest possible extent. If I could fully and truly master magic then reality itself would become my plaything.

I was bursting at the seams with an amount of magical power and mastery that hadn't been seen in perhaps quintillions of years. Now that I was well and truly focusing on my absurd levels of magical might I could feel my mind surging with ideas for how to use my magic to its most devastating potential. 

I studied the grimoire locked in my mind and as I did I felt the power to rewrite and bend reality to my whims increase. For me "studying" something was as easy as gazing upon it once, thanks to both powers like "Worldmind", and "Skillful", and potent perks that increased my ability to learn things. My mind was packed with knowledge thanks to the powers and perks that I possessed, as well as how powerfully my mind interacted with my surroundings. 

All it took for me to fill with knowledge was for me to gaze at something. By allowing my eyes to settle on an object I was able to learn everything from its composition to a thorough account of its past. And I learned even more whenever I gazed at a person or living creature. My eyes were filled with power, especially now that I was actively scanning the grimoire I possessed and thus adding conscious awareness of all sorts of spells to my repertoire of active powers. 

And I wasn't just studying either. My multi-layered mind was able to allow me to do all sorts of thought-based activities at once and I was taking full advantage of that. 

Several of my powers, especially those related to my bizarre nature as a "Special", "Not Equal", "Abnormal", "Minus", and "Stylist", required little more than a thought to activate. I was devoting a portion of my mind to those powers, especially ones that allowed me to mix and match things. I was having a lot of fun with that, especially when it came to one specific thing; creating new styles, powers that relied on words and spoken utterances.

At the very same time that the strange lord of nightmares, diseases, and darkness was advancing on the largest military base of the halflings, a quiet elf sat in front of a mirror in a stately apartment in the city of Heaven's Peak. The elf was a tall blonde woman and she had seemingly subdued silver eyes. 

She lazily ran a comb through her hair as she pretended to wistfully gaze at her reflection. She was a true and rare beauty, one who possessed both the pedigree of nobility and also the sort of beauty that could charm entire groups of men, especially human ones, to her will and whims. The elven noble sighed as she felt her ornate comb run through her hair. 

She was watched over by a number of maids, none of whom were themselves elves. The maids were all lovely, and well-groomed as if to reflect the status of the mistress they served. None of them dared to actually gaze upon the elven noble herself though, as that could have been seen as a sign of disrespect and they knew better than to do something as crass as that. 

On the desk which housed the mirror in which the woman's reflection was seen, a letter was visible. The letter was written on elegant stationery, and even the letters on the letter were noble things, created by the hands of the elf's few peers; human nobles who had gone to great lengths to bring the elf here. The letter was open, but not quite visible to the elf's servants and staff. 

The strange document outlined the terms of a significant contract, a certain kind of contract at that, that had brought the young, for an elf, woman to the human city. The elf's eyes occasionally flickered over to the document and for the briefest of seconds, she glared at it. The open letter began with a lot of emotion.

"Dearest Fayeth,

We are so overjoyed that your family, and hopefully you, have agreed to the joining of our two clans! Our heir, a young human named Fohion, is said to be as overjoyed as we are that you and he will be wed." 

Fayeth, the elven noble seated in front of the mirror, reread the letter in her head. This was but one minor application of her prodigious intellect and astounding memory. As she mentally explored every letter in the letter the facade she wore in front of her servants cracked ever so slightly. She felt her face contort into a scowl that even she had a hard time masking a split second later. 

The elf had strong feelings about being pawned off as part of a marriage of convenience to some human family. Nevertheless, she was determined to play her part dutifully, and in a display of steely will, she managed to recover her emotional mask and make her face as beautifully empty as it had been moments ago. For now, she'd hide her true face and play along with the machinations of her family.

On the other side of the continent, the army of invaders had just been noticed by the human slaves furthest from the fortress they were invading. Fohion, having already adapted to his powers, began his interactions with the defeated and disgraced humans by silencing them. He didn't do this through violence, since he was intent on exploring and experimenting with his powers, he did it through magic! 

The very instant that the humans noticed the approaching army their eyes widened in shock and their mouths opened in fear. Right as they attempted to scream so that the invaders would be noticed, the dark overlord pointed in their direction and chuckled. As he did he spoke softly. 

"Not today men." He uttered, his voice exploding out of him and into the air that surrounded his legion. The men who had been about to shout to their masters felt their voices silently die in their throats, their words stuck on their tongues but unable to escape them. His words were arrogant, but they were powerful and those he targeted couldn't say a word. Instead, the little humans began to fearfully gaze at the mysterious invader. None of them moved, and some of them even struggled to breathe in the presence of the vastly powerful being of cruelty and darkness.

The god lifted his sword and pointed it at the person closest to him, a young man who was using a stone hoe to pitifully till the ground at his feet. The peasant's eyes grew wide with fear and adrenaline as he wondered what to do. Thankfully, the dark lord was about to make that choice for him. 

"Peasant... Run back to your home." The dark god growled, his voice a quiet and cruel whisper. The peasant froze as he heard the words of the malevolent divinity. He gazed at the sinister-looking figure, but the figure was still. He did not move to hurt the peasant, and instead, his eyes almost softened for a moment. After a long, tense wait, the peasant steeled himself and dashed past the figure. 

The other peasants watched as their fellow slave freed himself from the halflings. When he made his way past the army of the dark lord, unobstructed and unharmed, the rest of the peasants looked at each other with fearful eyes. The dark god responsible for freeing the lucky young man silently activated another "Style", one that enabled the peasants to understand each other without words and allowed them to make sense of the emotions and questions in the eyes of their fellow men. 

It took them a few moments, even aided by the "Truth User" style that the dark god was utilizing, but eventually, they all came to an unspoken agreement; that their time to be free had come at last. The slaves, as one, turned their gaze upon the dark god who was giving them a way out and they looked him in the eyes. 

The instant that they did they dropped their tools, the objects falling to the ground and causing an unpleasant cacophony to ring out from the area just beyond the fortress. They fell to their knees as they saw the evil lurking within the eyes of their would-be savior. They felt his malevolence and cruelty, his disregard for life and for sanity, and his own inherent sinfulness. And now they weren't the only ones who gazed upon the wicked being. 

The sound that rang out from the area just beyond the fortress was plainly audible. It was not the magically controlled sound of the voice of Fohion, it was just a mundane number of sounds mixing together. And so it attracted the attention of the halflings who guarded the fortress. They had turned upon hearing it and they gazed, shocked, at the army that had come to their front door. 

The orderly forces of the dark lord turned and gazed back at them. Hundreds of evolved minions, plus the netherghul, gazed at the halfling warriors who had previously been too distracted by their own lives to seriously consider that anyone would march up to their front door as openly as this army had. 

The intimidating forces of the vile villain who had quietly declared war on the entire planet made the halflings feel a sort of fear they hadn't felt in a long time. Not every halfling was built the same though, and one of the braver scouts who had been placed along the wall to keep it safe was able to recover his wits and he began to turn so that he could warn the warriors deeper inside of the fortress. He was fast, but not fast or subtle enough. 

Cryos, one of the netherghul, saw the scout beginning to move and chuckled. The dark elf had astounding reflexes, something he demonstrated by raising his staff and freezing the small body of water to the left of the overlord he served and demonstrating elven agility as he ran onto it and glided across it. He was a picture of elven grace, and he dashed across the frozen water with his eyes fully trained on the halfling scout. 

The dark elf was a pale creature with cold blue eyes and a shocking amount of long, white hair that flowed freely from his head. He held a staff the color of the deepest parts of the ocean, that radiated a deathly chill, and he pointed it at the halfling who now gasped and turned even faster so that he could flee from the invading army and retreat into the depths of the fortress. 

The elf roared, the sound a mixture of bloodlust and of primal, animalistic delight. A split second after he roared, the staff in his hands began to radiate pale light and thick, hand-sized projectiles of ice violently exploded out of it. The ice-projectiles flew through the air and slammed into the wood of the fortress's outermost walls, hitting them with intense force and speed that caused more of the halflings to snap out of their fearful stupor. 

Behind the overlord, the other members of his army let out equally animalistic roars and began to charge towards the fortress. Minions and netherghul alike dashed past the slaves, leaving them entirely untouched, and began to focus their energies on the halfling forces garrisoned around the entrance to the military base.

Red minions, and Inferna, all began to hurl potent gouts of fire magic at the scouts and warriors who had been tasked with protecting the main marshaling grounds of the halflings. Green minions, and Hakon, began to fade from view as they activated their natural camouflage abilities to better ambush their enemies. Brown minions, and Malady, began to ready themselves for deadly martial combat as they sprinted at the bravest defenders of the fortress, who steeled themselves and pointed their short swords and spears at the army that was intent on destroying them. 

The overlord on the other hand quietly chuckled and slowly took his time walking towards the fortress. He passed by the enslaved humans without violence, and turned his blade to the fortress. As he approached it he faced the fastest halflings dashing towards his servants, and opened his mouth. 

"Zun Haal Viik." He uttered, and when he spoke that last word a wave of orange power exploded out of his mouth and zipped towards the halflings. It passed harmlessly by the minions, due to Fohion's own powers and ability to make his allies immune to his attacks, and collided with the halflings. 

The creatures screamed out in pain and surprise as they felt the powerful, draconic words wash over them. They were able to stay standing but they felt their weapons be violently wrenched from their hands right as the minions of Fohion reached them and lunged at them, swords drawn. 

Fohion had just used the powerful draconic words of the dragons of Tamriel, thanks to the might of "Metamagnus" and it granting him utter mastery over all forms of magic, even ones from universes he had yet to visit!