Agartha’s transition from being a mere planet into being an entire realm was proceeding quickly. Each day a handful of new island and continents would appear, ready and waiting for the native Agarthans and the immortal overseers of the world to build upon them, and populate them.
The Agarthans would provide the people and the governance. The overseers would provide monsters and a small handful of offworlder allies and competitors.
The same people who were responsible for creating the system and administrating the world would provide and prepare almost everything else. From the magical resources, to the dungeons and dead cities.
Today, on a certain newborn continent a man with pink hair would appear from nowhere. The whole continent would be covered by a dome of shimmering silver-gray crystal.
He’d be accompanied by a roiling black cloud. A monstrous thunder head that spun within itself like a coiling, colossal serpent.
If there were any who were able to penetrate the dome with their senses, they’d note that the man seemed to be shouting something. Shouting up at a sky that held only a single cloud.
Then man began to burn, his flesh transforming into energy, and time and space. He flared black, and then white and then gray. The cloud rumbled its displeasure, like a predator that was unhappy to see that its meal still had some fight in it.
Then as the man made of black, white and gray, began to rise up from the ground, a bolt of light struck down from the heavens. From the roiling monstrous cloud.
In a certain tower above that hung above the world, a group of blindfolded, winged women would look at the project that displayed all the goings on of the world below. They’d note that the anomaly that had occurred a subjective seventeen hours ago and a real-time five minutes ago had seemingly been cleared.
Manipulating the controls on their workstations to allow the world below to resume its normal operation.
The moment this happened the world would be in uproar. A small uproar, but an uproar all the same. Countless beings of power and many higher existences of the immortal realms would find themselves alarmed as they felt the ripple of power that washed across the land.
The mortals below would witness the seas surging as the sky was split in two. They’d hear the heavens howling and be deafened by the screaming of the wind.
Then just like that it’d be over. In a single instead an entire continent would disappear. The power that appeared just seconds before, overwhelming and inexplicable as it had been, would be gone. Gone without a trace as if it had never been.
Should any persons of sufficient position try to question the Asphodel Administrative Offices on what exactly happened, they’d be shunted to a recording that would blithely explain that all this was just a planned interruption in the service.
Part of a pre-scheduled update in the system.