"Holy hell, that's a lot," says Gargan, "a million Low Tier demons, ten Mid Tier, five High Tier, and even a freaking Supreme Tier, this is a complete disaster." Asoka opens his mouth to interject, but Gargan continues, "Hold on, what's with the difference in the amounts though?" asks Gargan. Both Asoka and Trodius begin to answer, but Lokius beats them to it.  

"The passages probably broke with a differing number of gates flinging open. That would be the most probable explanation for the numerical discrepancies." says Lokius, as he looks towards Asoka for confirmation. Asoka stares at him, surprised. But then he smiles, remembering who he's talking to. He confirms Lokius's allegations by the way of a nod. 

"So this is a disaster management meeting?" asks Gargan, a little saddened that their reunion had an agenda behind it. Asoka nods to Gargans conclusions, sharing his unspoken sentiment. 

Snapping his fingers, Ashoka sends a mental command to Trodius–and as Trodius hops away–Asoka begins.

"I've actually thought up a few ideas, I just need you guys's input on them." he explains.

"The residents of these worlds won't be able to handle this, Asoka, not unaided at least," says Lokius, his scaly brows knitted in deep contemplation. 

"I know Lokius, that's why I'm going to them," says Asoka, and both of them nod at this like it's an everyday occurrence, but then Lokius takes a double take, finally registering what Asoka said, his eyeballs almost pop open. 

Nodding his head Gargan takes a gulp of his wine, and hearing Lokius's squeezed out gasp for air he looks at him, confused at his expression. He looks over at Asoka who's looking back at him with one eyebrow raised. Mildly confused, Gargan begins to gulp down his drink to ask Asoka what it is, when realization hits, and his drink chokes him on its way down. Reflexively, he sprays it out in front of him, at Asoka's face. 

"What. You. There. But HOW?" bellows Gargan, and Lokius continues his thread, "we aren't allowed to pass through the Passages, Asoka.”

Just then, Trodius returns with the item Asoka mentally ordered him to fetch from the Hall of Artifacts. Asoka comments on his perfect timing before rolling the item into the space between them. 

Laid out in front of them, upon a wheeled wooden plank, is a large silver basin. 

"I need some of your energies," says Asoka, as he places a hand on Lokius and Gargan's thigh. With sufficient warning given, Asoka exhales completely. This helps him mentally, to create a void space amongst his reserves to place the siphoned energy in. Energy transfer is a rare skill that not many poses, but those who do, have achieved much with it. Most of them are members of the Royal Court, The Council of Sixteen. With sufficient energy siphoned, Asoka releases his tight grasp on them and finally exhales. Within him, the parting of his reserves is like the parting of the sea. It clashes back into each other, the waves of foreign energy mixing into the ocean of his. 

"That should be enough,” says Asoka, “let me know if you start feeling queasy." They both scoff at his jab. Their own reserves, although not matching Asoka’s, were still vast enough to fill oceans of condensed pure dark grade energy. From those oceans Asoka took a few rivers only, so the two were still filled wiht enough energy to go into battle.  

Raising his right hand in front of him, Asoka focuses intently on the tip of his index finger. Nothing happens at first, but suddenly a small orb of pure dark energy jumps out of his finger and levitates above it, rotating in a helical orbit. Then, much more slowly this time, a silver fluid, almost the color of mercury, begins to ooze out of the tip of his index finger. Once completely oozed out, it forms a tiny orb that initially rests upon his finger–but with an additional burst of focus–it also begins to levitate, and slowly settles into its own helical orbit. The pathways of the orbiting orbs start to shift from its inclined angles, towards a more horizontal plane, and the orbs start speeding up. By the time the orbs come close to a complete horizontal plane, the orbs are spinning at such high speeds that they only leave a streak of their colors behind. 

VDUM.

A moderate decibel pitched blast happens, and a mid-sized pulse exudes from the fusion reaction, any excess byproduct energy getting absorbed by the walls of the Throne Room. Above his index finger now floats an orb the size of a US dollar coin, its color an ethereal darkness with pools mercury-white patches covering its surface. Whips of white and black energy radiate from it. Dipping that ball into the basin Asoka exhales out, letting go of some of the pressure he'd built up, which is followed by the surface of the ball beginning to peel out and flop onto the floor of the basin. Slowly that peeled out surface layer expands and absorbs into the basin floor. Above, with the covering surface completely peeled off, a truly extraordinary sight is revealed. Pulsing with expanding and contracting radiance, is the core of the fusion. 

Focusing harder now, Asoka stabilizes the morphing ball and simultaneously begins to mold it into an obsidian pointed needle. With the needle completely formed, Asoka wastes no time as he slashes across the middle of the depressed basin, and a line appears along the cut. "I'm cutting into the two realities," explains Asoka as he writes out Telluria and Munandane on the floor of the basin on the opposite sides of the cut. Suddenly the basin fills with a transparent fluid that slowly takes on vibrant colors. “They are little gateways into the two worlds,” explains Asoka. 

"You never fail to impress me, old friend," says Lokius, a marvelous awe prominent in his trembling voice. 

"I'm not done impressing you, my friend," says Asoka, building the hype, "I've discovered plenty more functions of the Throne Room in the decade we've been apart." As he says this, Asoka instantly multiplies the needle from one to ten, one for each finger, and albeit the multiplied needles are much shorter, they are no less magnificent. He dips his hands into the two sides of the divided basin and fans out his hands. The needles from his fingers web out and stick to the invisible walls of the Throne Room and the splashing water from the divided basin follow the webs and absorb into the walls of the Throne Room, leaving the basin half filled. The walls that were once invisible, now glow with the vibrant colors from the two realities, acting like two giant screens. 

"I'm going to bypass the restriction by projection-sensing myself into both worlds," explains Asoka. 

"But for that to happen, you'll need appropriate hosts from both worlds," counters Lokius. 

"And that's considering you can take the load of fracturing your consciousness into three fractals," adds Gargan, "I can barely do two, and that too for the briefest of moments when I need them in the heat of battle."

"No, my friend, it gets better the more you work on it," says Lokius, "I can maintain mine for an upwards of ten days, and it gives me a massive edge when we're at war. The other Strategists, especially Baland, asks me how I do it. But I've learnt the value of hiding a good ace up your sleeve. And it's better to just keep it to myself if they don't know it." 

Asoka pats at Gargans wide back, "Don't worry, my dear friend. Have a little faith in your old companion.” With a sly grin, he adds, “I've grown unimaginably stronger since our last spar, Gar.” Gargan scoffs with a ‘we'll have to see about that’ face. Asura hums, contemplating something. Nodding he says, “My exponential growth had frightened me initially, but now I think I see why it happened. I had to be capable enough to handle this mess."

"Ain't it your excessive greed for power the cause of this whole mess?" Counters Lokius. Hiding a curse behind a cough, Asoka says, "It's all predestined, my friend." and Lokius continues to stare at him with slitted eyes. 

Asoka pulls out two threads from the two sides of his temples and dips them into the two realities within the basin. "I've already threaded my conscious mind into these threads. Once we choose the appropriate hosts, I will fractal my mind into them." 

"What's your criteria for hosts?" Asks Gargan, and Asoka rests his chin on his palm, contemplating before answering. 

"You resemble a great thinking Ape, my friend," says Gargan. Asoka stares at him in confusion. 

"That only works for you Gargan," corrects Lokius, and Asoka buckles with laughter. Turning red with embarrassment, Gargan speaks aloud, "Your criteria?" 

Wheezing out the laughter, Asoka wipes away the tears, and tries to calm down enough to answer. "For Telluria, the host has to be someone who's reasonably healthy, at their physical prime years, but not someone who has depleted their potential for growth. Most importantly, however, it has to be someone who has emptied his mind of the desires of life, and has accepted death, especially if it's in the selfless sacrifice for another." 

"Basically, a young martyr in his last moments," states Lokius. Asoka nods.

"And for Munandane?" Gargan asks.

"I've already got someone in mind," says Asoka. 

And then ensues a marathon of searching, admits which, two messenger troops travel up and down Mount Asura, carrying more orders from Lokius and Gargan for their subordinates, in case they have to stay holed up in the Throne Room for a longer duration of time. The enthusiasm of the search dims down as they search Telluria with no results, but then Lokius suddenly perks up. He yells out. 

"Got 'em."