Jagged bolts of lightning ripped across the skies of Dagan-Nuhr. The gate was almost open, and K'arkh was to be the second to pass through, right after Brog. Ahead of them awaited another journey, another world, and another fateful demise — for that world… Waiting for his turn, K'arkh brought to mind previous such journeys: the cries of the dying, the feeling of his own omnipotence, and a burning hatred for all living things. A pleasant warmth filled his body, as he anticipated wreaking further destruction and pain. He was already heading towards the portal when Ilyssa's voice cut through his reminiscences:

"You've grown arrogant, K'arkh! Turn around and have a good look as you see this sky for the last time!"

The voice of Ilyssa the Weaver, another of the four Negators of All Creation and his comrade-in-arms, irritated K'arkh immensely. Being the queen of a planet endowed her with the gift of clairvoyance, but this time K'arkh knew that she was wrong. He knew himself and his desires. Everything would go as per usual: the four Negators of All Creation would devour yet another world, leaving no traces, and K'arkh would return home to the endless abyss of Dagan-Nuhr, where he reigned supreme. With that thought, he stepped into the Outland portal.

The darkness gave way to bright light, that made K'arkh squint in contempt and filled him with incinerating hatred. The portal brought the Negators straight to the heart of the Dominion, where these monstrous titans began their dance of death. Blood, silent horror in the eyes of their victims, blood again, and death everywhere like a great, refreshing rain. K'arkh and his companions were reveling in the carnage when suddenly the ruler of Dagan-Nuhr heard a familiar whisper in his ear:

"Do you remember me, K'arkh? Do you?"

"Yes, Judge. Many years have passed since our last encounter."

K'arkh straightened to his full height and turned to face the speaker.

"The Dominion is a place where many paths cross. Perhaps this is a sign that you cannot escape your fate? Do you remember how He said that one day you will turn from the path of destruction and spare the lives of those whom you despise so venomously? Back then, you laughed and called it childish babble. And yet today, His words will come to pass."

Lightning started to flow through Judge's body. There was no anger in his voice; only unwavering certainty and millennia of weariness.

"The salvation of these people is your only hope. Once you were the pinnacle of our Creator's works, and now you're resentful of everything He brought forth after you. K'arkh, your hatred is driving you insane, and yet the only one truly deserving of hatred is you yourself. Our Creator has disappeared, and Nebula and I are desperately trying to find Him."

"What do I care, Judge?" K'arkh winced with disgust. "It's your concern!"

"Why should you care, you ask?" Judge let out a bitter chuckle. "Admit it: your strength is not what it used to be. You've never let your opponents wound you, K'arkh. Not until recently. And how many mistakes have you made lately, causing turmoil among the other Negators? The Creator has gone and the world is out of control, the balance has been disturbed, and the laws of creation have ceased to function. Your strength will continue to diminish, K'arkh, until we find Him. For now, you are still both omnipotent and feared, but how long will it last?"

Judge's words tasted like bitter medicine. K'arkh didn't want to hear them, but it was all true. He would have to change his ways and help these miserable humans. Oh yes, he hated them, hated Judge and his followers, hated the Creator. But he couldn't afford to have his strength leave him — he would have to forgo his role as a Negator. Ilyssa the Weaver, Brog the Conqueror and Vadjar would never forgive him. But he couldn't risk his own life for the sake of their shared goal.

"Let's go," K'arkh growled at Judge. I'll help you, but I'm only doing it for myself. And when my powers are fully restored, I will tear this planet to pieces along with everyone on it.

At that moment, an impenetrable veil of thick grey clouds covered the menacing sky of his own world. In the endless abyss of Dagan-Nuhr, an almighty storm broke out, raindrops lashing at the nothingness in mourning for their departed master.