A palace, constructed from the bones of beings from every race known to this world. Braziers lit in the skulls of giants, flames fuelled by the souls of innocents, surrounded by demonic magic. The floor was covered in a thin veneer of dried blood, painting whatever the original material had been a dark red colour. Corpses hung from great meat hooks on the ceiling, many of them tortured to death, some of them not quite dead yet. A visage from the deepest depths of hell, all leading up to the Obsidian throne upon which sat Bur Durrac, one of the Great Lords of Darkness who would lead his armies of demons across the face of the galaxy.

Boring.

An infinite plain, seperated from the concept of space by the very laws of reality. No horizon, simply an infinite stretch of land. No sky, for infinitely far away the land looped back up, the same plain visible far above, mirroring the one below. Farmers walked to herd small groups of spider-like creatures, milking them for the strange green extract they produced, the main source of drink in this waterless, oceanless, rainless reality. Small farmhouses dotted the land, interspersed by large obsidian pillars, chanelling posts for the great magic that retained the stability of this peaceful realm.

Boring.

With nary but a thought, Voidwalker moved from world to work, dimension to dimension. There was nothing to see, nothing to do. Like a looking glass, she stared at every one of them, leaving no trace besides the startled individuals who had seen her. Some had attacked her, some had spoken to her, others had simply stared. All were left behind. Nothing could catch up to her, nothing could contain her. She was untouchable, unmovable.

And yet, with all of existence opened before her, not a single thing could hold her interest. She was sick of it, sick of these places, sick of these worlds. Of the pathetic beings in their pathetic lives, scurrying to survive, to conquer, to kill. The mighty and the weak, the righteous and the malignant, the genius and the brute. They were all nothing, they were all worthless. A page flipped on a book, an image flashing by in the camera.

All of them were expendable.

Another diorama formed itself. It was a gathering of strange characters, gathered from around the Multiverse. A knight of the sun, a clone specialist, a murder taking place before her eyes. A mixtrue of auras and personalities, a group of powerful beings in the same room, each one clashing more than the other. Normally, she would simply have disappeared once more, leaving these individuals in the proverbail dust. But something made her reconsider. Something about these people had caught her interest.

Could it be, she had once more found something to amuse herself with?