His Devilship CHHHAAANNN~

[C. W. Miraj]

"Gambler who schemes behind the scenes,"

I look up at the dragon. At his condescending gaze.

"Fortune has abandoned you, a flame on a frozen field."

The scythe presses sharp against my neck. Blood snows from hell.

Hell now and then, hell ever after. This fairy tale was never meant to have a happy ending.

How long since I've been lost in this world? Are they waiting for me still? Is she still—

"It's over."

I wonder if it ever truly began. If so, when?...

When did it all begin to fall apart?

From the very beginning?

From the very beginning…

***

Every day feels the same. Some kids pursue passion. Others chase goals. And me? Hahh. I just exist. Nothing moves me now that my body's old.

In my youth, I pursued thrills also. I fought in the underground rings where every brawl could end me. I broke bones for money and it paid better than an honest job.

So it went.

All highs come with a fall. I now count my days while awaiting the inevitable.

Though there are still rare moments worth holding onto in these miserable days of mine.

"Uncle Chuan! Happy birthday!" shouts the scrawny kid before me. The boy.

"Greetings, Uncle. Happy birthday to you!" babbles the other one. The girl.

My nephews.

I limp to the door, open my arms wide, and embrace the twins as I buckle. My back screams in pain despite the innumerable spine surgeries I've spent half my life savings on.

"Hahaha! Look who's grown so much! You were at my knee the last time we met. It was just a month ago," I greet grandly.

The girl hugs my arm while the boy, the bastard, climbs onto my shoulder.

"Let go, Cei!" my sister Mei shouts at the little dipshit, hanging the coats on a hanger as she steps through the doorway.

She then takes off her shoes and says in a disciplinary tone, "Uncle has undergone another operation. He's not well. Let go of him this instant!"

"Lies! No way!" Cei raises his hand, staring back at his mother with a furrowed brow. "Uncle is strong, so strong in fact he can carry a boulder on his fingertip! Didn't you say so yourself, Mom? Isn't that right, Uncle?"

The boy looks back and forth between Mei and me.

"Of course! There's nothing this uncle of yours isn't capable of!" I lie shamelessly, lifting the boy high into the air.

A proud smile suppresses my screams. Internally, I cry rivers.

"Me too! Me too!" says Wei, raising her hands and waving them with a stupid grin on her small face.

Oh hell no. These unfilial children haven't seen the face of a slipper or the whip of a belt, it seems to me.

Anyway, I lift the other kid, too.

Oh, is that a crack I just heard? It can't be my spine, can it?

I slowly put the two rascals down, barely holding myself back from dropping them midway. My neurologist won't be pleased at tomorrow's meeting.

It is worth it still. I'd rather die a man than a coward! This kind of sacrifice is nothing. I don't want Cei and Wei to think of me as some weak old man destitute of strength when they grow.

I lead the family to the kitchen and slump onto the sofa. After some small talk, Mei prepares dinner while the children go play in the living room. They build a bastion from all the pillows they can find throughout the house.

"How have you been?" my sister asks absentmindedly, tasting the soup she's boiling with a spoon. "Still clinging to old life? You look like you're about to kick the bucket from boredom."

"Not at all. I've long said my goodbyes to my associates," I say, grabbing some bread.

"As for health," I mumble, biting into the dough. "I'm more or less fine. Nothing to worry about. Didn't you see for yourself?"

She sighs in clear annoyance, lightly stamping her foot on the floor. "Have you found any hobbies? Maybe a woman? It's not the health I'm most worried about."

"Hobbies, you ask? Well, I've been writing a book recently," I tell her as I listen to the kids quarrel in a room afar.

"A book?" she asks with bewilderment in her voice. "Would never think you're into literature. But…"

Mei turns the gas off, opens a shelf above, and takes a handful of bowls. "Come to think of it, you used to be into reading literary fiction when we were young, before you got involved with the mafia…"

"So," she utters, "what's the book about?"

"Not sure yet," I say as the delicious smells assault my nose. "I've been inspired by the novel I recently read. I'm cranking out a few pages daily."

"Well, whatever it is, I'm glad for you."

"Thanks."

She sets the dishes on the table one by one: vegetables, bowls filled with red soup, more bread, and then the utensils and napkins.

"Any news from your friend?" she asks. "The last time you said he was opening a business. A restaurant. What was his name again… ah, Gin. Right."

"Ah," I muster, grabbing the ancient spoon she hands me after sitting. "Shot dead. Gambling debts got to him. I knew it was coming, but pretty sad that with Gin, everyone's dead now."

"Didn't he quit?"

"No way," I say, spooning the bowl of creamy delicacy before me and puffing on it to cool it down. "Gambling is as severe an addiction as smoking and drugs. Only a few crawl back from the rabbit hole once deep in. Gin wasn't one of them, unfortunately. Well, he didn't have much to lose besides his life anyway."

Mei kicks my knee from under the table. "You realize how depressing you sound?"

I sigh.

"Wait, I know," she says, pointing at me.

"Have you had a hand in video games?"

"Video games?" I look at her questioningly. "That's children's stuff. I remember playing Mario and… you remember that game with the tank we used to play? Was fun, but I think I've grown out of it."

Mei forces one more piece of bread into my hand as I finish the last. "Not that… Like RPG games and stuff…"

She heaves a sigh. "How do I explain… Uh, they've got action. You explore an open world: trade items, manage territories, fight monsters, and progress through leveling up. You should give it a go. Our company has been developing one recently. They'll even grant you exclusive items as an early player."

"Listen, Mei," I tell her, locking eyes with hers.

Her messy hair covers her dead-fish eyes and the dark bags beneath them. Her pale skin looks illsome, and her thin hands waver, the nails dirty and unkempt.

"You don't have to worry about me at all. I'm fine. I'll be fine. You have a busy life with work and two responsibilities on your shoulders, so better worry about yourself."

"Three responsibilities," she interjects with fuss, fingering the table. "You've taken care of me before; now it's my turn. I didn't realize sooner."

I extend my hand and firmly grab hers. She blinks tiredly, her tremors ceasing, her expression softening.

Blinking, the lights above color the table in a yellow tone. The tune of the chirps from the open window disrupts the silence.

"Let's not talk about it. The past is past," I say, backing and forking a piece of tomato from the plate to my left. "You know what would truly drive me mad? If you were to suffer. As long as I can see you and the kids smile, I'll be happy."

Mei looks down. "It's just… the children have lost their father, I don't want them— us to lose you too… Speaking of which…"

"Cei! Wei!" Mei calls, taking her chance to leave the table.

"The food is getting cold!"

"...Just five more minutes!" the little rascal yells from the other end of the house.

There she goes.

I grab my phone as I feel the vibration of a notification. Something's come to my mailbox.

How weird. I'm pretty sure I've paid the due bills: TV, gas, lights… oh, the internet? Strange. I thought I still had four days.

As I swipe, the notification appears: a massive banner with dozens of fantastical creatures and mythical weapons in a row.

At the center stands a kid, an angelic boy with a clever face, rainbow hair, and feathers covering his bare body.

His left hand is extended in a welcoming manner, while his other hand holds a thunderbolt.

The Fish Constellation Pisces grants you an opportunity to participate in the Grand Battle Royale!

Press now and escape into the magical and mysterious world of Noitavitluc!

An ad?

How come? I've never logged into any catchy sites before. What's this anyway?

I push my finger onto the delete button, yet before I click, I halt.

This looks like… a video game?

 

[C. W. Miraj]

"...You've made such a mess! Who's going to clean it all, huh?!" Mei shouts.

"...Wei will! She's behind most of it!" Cei screeches.

"...Lies! It was Cei! I swear!" Wei weeps.

Scooping one more spoonful of the warm soup and slurping it, I press on the ad, which brings me to a weird website.

Indeed, it's a game.

As I'm reading the description, I get more and more invested.

Log in to claim a free character pull!

Build your kingdom with immemorial jade beauties!!

Triumph over the demonic dungeons for wealth and glory!!!

Become the hero of our story now!

Reading further, I reach the bottom of the page. There's a huge, shiny download button in the hands of a cute maid.

But when I press it, a survey pops up.

1: Is all life equal?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

What kind of question is this out of nowhere? Maybe it's not a game, but some secret government shenanigans.

I should've known not to indulge my curiosity.

But I can't exit the questionnaire. No matter which button I press or how many times I tap the screen, the message doesn't change.

Do I have no option but to answer?

"...Nooo!!! Don't touch our castle!"

"...Mean! Mom is so mean!!!"

I mean… I don't have much to do.

It says question number one, which posits the chance of numerous following questions.

What will await me in the end? Do all the games nowadays force you into a survey?

Curiosity takes hold of me. I reread the question.

1: Is all life equal?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

Three options. The first is disagreement. The second is for agreement. At last, the third is for neutrality or avoidance. Presumably.

Equality? Hmm… This is a tricky question. It asks whether one life holds more value than another.

But… how do we go about determining the value?

From what they possess? No. Wealth, for example. What is the use of wealth for a dying man?

Even eternity. What is the use of eternal life for a man desiring death?

It's hard to discern the value of matter too.

Water is a calamity for a drowning man, yet it is a necessity for a thirsting man.

On the other hand, what if the drowning man wants to drown, and the thirsting man wants to wither?

So, is there a universal value that we can attach to things?

2: Is there no absolute truth?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

What a weird question. What is the truth of things? Is there such a thing as an absolute truth? Hmm…

The truth…

Beauty, let's say. Beauty is generally considered to be an excellent quality…

Yet does this always hold true?

For example, a carpenter ignores an ugly tree. Its ugly qualities save it from being cut.

Now, with all the supposedly beautiful trees dead, who can say it's atrocious? Who is to say it's useless?

The dead cannot talk. The wooden house cannot speak.

In the end, the one remaining tree cannot talk either. Is it beautiful? Is it ugly?

If a man sleeps in a damp place, his back will ache, and he will end up half-paralyzed. But does that apply to a loach?

If a loach lives in a tree, he is terrified and shakes with fright. But is this true of a monkey?

Of these three creatures, then, which one knows the proper place to live?

3: Is there no good and evil?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

What is good, and what is evil? My mind is clouded with uncertainty.

Why is the survey so overly complex? Or am I overthinking?

Good? Evil? Ha…

For a man, the death of a pig is inconsequential, while the death of a dog is aggravating.

What makes the dog more precious than the pig?

Why is the slaughter of countless pigs considered a norm, yet the death of a single dog mournful?

Why is one good, the other evil?

For a man, the death of an old man is saddening, while the death of a young girl is insufferable.

What makes the girl more precious than the man?

Why is the slaughter of countless men in wars considered a duty, yet the death of a single child sensational?

Why is one good, the other bad?

An old man proclaimed as a wise ruler will have people lament his death.

An old man proclaimed as a murderer will have people cry with joy at his death.

What if these two are the same person?

What if the wise ruler of his people is also the cruel murderer of others?

Does this make him an evil or a good person?

"...At-at-a— My ear! I'm sorry, I'm sowwy—"

I answer the questions one by one. It's been a while since I've given things this much thought.

…Does this quiz ever end?

6: Is there a meaning of life?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

12: Is a government in need of absolute authority with an iron fist?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

17: Is it foolish to be proud of one's country?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

29: Is the primary function of schooling to nurture the future generation to find jobs?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

Sigh… I think my phone is broken. This is definitely an interrogation of sorts, but I've gotten so far…

I want to see what happens after I complete the query…

The questions are becoming more specific and targeted. The first ones were way funnier and easier to respond to.

32: Is an individual depriving themselves of their lives under societal pressures committing a justifiable act?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

Is life ever worth giving up on?

Few would color the world red for the slimmest chance to prolong it.

Is life ever a gift worth any?

Fewer still would wish they were never cursed to experience it.

Who among them has any right to speak of left and right or right and wrong?

Go left, and nothing will be right.

Go right, and nothing will be left.

33: What faction do you believe most resembles you?

1. Righteous
2. Demonic
3. Neutral

Oh, a different answer set?

"Hey!" I hear as something shakes my arm. I look at Mei's annoyed expression.

"I've been calling you again and again. Are you out of it?"

Huh?

I absentmindedly glance at the children beside her. At the girl with a freckled face, who has her head hung low, and the boy with folded arms, his face turned, a red handmark present on his cheek that he so desperately tries to hide.

"Hey! Are you fine?!"

Why would I not be? I nod my head. "What's happened? Why are you so worked up?"

Congratulations! You have a 100% alignment with the Demonic Faction!

Hmm? The survey finally ends. I didn't choose to be demonic, though. Weird. What now—

"Hey! Chua—"

You've been given a |Villain| Title!

A mechanical voice echoes in my head.

Her voice is light, soft, smooth, soothing, sweet, amiable.

Then why is it rough and bleak and bitter and noisy and nasty and— cruel, distant, and cold all the same?

"ARGHH!"

I scream my lungs out.

Painful! How agonizingly painful!

Gift |The Hero's Curse |A|| has been granted!

Damage against the players with |Hero| Title -50%

Gift |Reverse Plot Armor |S|| has been granted!

Luck Attribute -50%
Experience Gain -90%
Divinity Resistance -90%

I can feel my luck leave my body, the distance between me and the faraway divine entities furthering. The gods, whoever they may be, completely give up on me.

My nose bleeds.

I press my hands hard on my eyes, blinded by burning sensations.

The innards of my head melt. The pain. Unbearable. Unstoppable.

You've been chosen as one of the 72 Demon Lords to rule over the demons!

Race |Human |F|| has been promoted to |Demon Lord |S||!

For the perfect results in the survey, you've been chosen as one of the 7 Archdemons to rule over the Demon Lords!

Race |Demon Lord |S|| has been promoted to |Archdemon |SS||!

To suppress the pain, I bite my lip as hard as possible.

Forcing a smile right after, I lick the blood flowing down my nose.

Commencing Inauguration…

Commencing Pathway Selection…

Chapter 0. Walpurgis Night — Phase 0

"Chuan! Brother Chuan! Hold on! I'm calling the ambulance!"

"Uncle Chuan!"

"Uncle—"

Best of luck, Player.

To die!

This…

This— This is bullshit!

Is this how I die?!

"Chuan—"

Chuan…?

…

Who is… Chan?

…

…

Ah… I…

…

…

…

Who is… I?

 

[C. W. Miraj]

Opening my eyes, I'm greeted by a foggy space and a round table.

Seven other people sit around it.

With small horns on their heads, all except one appear human.

The exception, a rainbow-haired boy, the same angelic figure from the ad banner, catches my attention. He's the only one who looks different, not just in appearance.

The others are confused, scurrying their eyes across the space.

This boy, however, overflows with confidence. His hands are clasped before him as he smilingly sweeps his relaxed gaze across each individual.

Finally, his sunny eyes fall on me, his lips furthering down.

"Attention, everyone!" he calls with authority. "You seven have been chosen to become Archdemons."

All seven pairs of eyes fall on him.

"No!" he bellows, raising his brows. "You chose to become Archdemons of your own volition. You lot are the most evil scum among the millions."

"The lowest of the low."

Silence befalls. Some listen attentively, uncaring about the insult. Some hold to their confusion. Some even laugh.

What's happening?

I remember completing a survey and then an immense pain taking over me.

What happened after? Wait…

What happened before?

"My memories! Only fragments of who I was remain!" I shout at the rainbowhead, pointing a finger at him.

"Who are you?! What have you done to us?!"

I try to stand, yet I can't. I'm stuck to the grand obsidian throne.

I strike my fist against the gargantuan ebony table, the drum blitzing through the space like thunder.

"You motherfuc—"

"Patience, lowly demon." The very moment he raises his finger, my voice dies down. "Such a raw temperament. Lacking common sense, I see. Well, you wouldn't be a demon otherwise, you mongrel."

I open my mouth. No words come.

Did he just seal my voice or something?

Infuriating. How dare he?!

Bloodlust courses through my veins.

If I were to be released, I fear I'd pop his head before getting an answer…

My thoughts are disrupted when I hear the blonde sitting to my right giggling.

I gaze at her piercingly, yet she only waves at me cheerfully.

"Anyhow," the rainbowhead says, clapping his hands. "Let's get started with the Inauguration Ceremony, shall we?"

At the center above the table, cracks start to form in the space.

Bluish colors swamp from the fractures, and a transparent orb emerges from the opening fissure.

The Fragment of The Great Dao

Words form in my head, identifying the object before me.

That's not what I should pay attention to.

I turn my head to the rainbowhead, observing every expression he makes with utmost attention. For hints and such. This bastard is a prime suspect in being responsible for everything, after all.

On his face, I see reverence and respect directed toward the orb.

That orb moves toward a pale man in a black robe with a golden cross on his chest.

A member of the clergy? How familiar…

Pride Sin Songdra

The words form inside the orb, identifying the middle-aged man.

Its colors repeatedly change as it circles him, his raven hair waving as the orb speeds.

The man stares ahead with his skyly eyes, expressionless and unreadable.

At last, the orb halts, shaking.

Then, in the spur of a moment, a smaller blue orb splinters off The Great Dao.

The Fragment of the Time Pathway

It whisks and closes in on the man, puncturing through his right eye.

A lazuli clockwork tattoo forms in and around his eye, with gears coalescing around the iris and metallike lines scoring outward.

His face ages. His horns grow tall and straight, starting as blue and whitening the farther they rise to the top.

The strands of his hair turn darker, his eyes brighter, ocean-clear.

Two sapphire wings sprout from his back.

The Archdemon of Time,
The Lord of Dragons,
Pride Sin Songdra

Finally, he stops glowing.

On the table before him forms a staff half his size, with an hourglass spinning on its head.

Throughout the process, I didn't take my attention off the rainbowhead even for a moment. When the time pathway fragment was separated from the orb, he drew his brows together in annoyance.

It appears to me the time pathway is strong, given that it soured the rainbowhead's mood.

After all, he clearly views us as enemies…

The blonde to my right gasps without a care for our predicament.

"So cool!" Her dark eyes sparkle.

"Time Pathway! Isn't that a cheat?! Imagine your enemy draws their sword only for you to stop the time and shove it up their ass!"

She receives weird glances from the others. I want to voice my agreement, but I can't speak.

"But say, what happens if you foresee the future? To give an example, what if you'd eat a cake and sit on a cock the following morning, but after having a look at the future, you gobble a cock and sit on a cake instead. Wouldn't that create a time paradox—" Her voice breaks.

She gapes, yet not a single peep comes out of her mouth.

"How vulgar," the rainbowhead sneers, frowning. "Don't show your filthy nature before me, mongrel. In the presence of The Great Dao, at that."

Fuck The Great Dao.

I see that the blonde and I think alike. She points a middle finger at the orb and raises her other hand with a finger aimed at the rainbowhead. Not a single flying fuck given.

Yeah. Him too. Fuck him too. Sincerely.

The Great Dao moves to the seat opposite, floating above a dark man.

His stature gives the impression of a bodybuilder, yet his stern demeanor and clothes speak of a soldier.

Envy Sin Goliath

This time, a smaller fragment parts from the orb, purple.

The Fragment of the Mind Pathway

It paves toward the man's forehead, hazy on its way.

There, an amethyst marking of an eye forms, malicious, double the size of his determined eyes.

He grows in size also, his clothes stretching, then tearing apart.

The horns grow as well, sideways, akin to a bull's. Brutish, with purple and yellow tints.

The Archdemon of Mind,
The Lord of Giants,
Envy Sin Goliath

Gauntlets materialize, one violet and the other pearly yellow, with golden spikes and paddings predominant on each.

Throughout this, the rainbowhead didn't frown.

He's still annoyed, clearly. Yet not as much as he was with the dragon guy.

It's settled, then. More likely than not, the larger the orb in size, the stronger it is.

I'd love to discuss it with others, but my mouth is shut. Though, that's me.

What about them? Why don't they talk?

Are they wary of each other or the rainbowhead?

Boring fuckers.

The orb continues in its path, moving toward an excited young man.

His lab coat crinkly and wet, he extends his gloved hand toward The Great Dao.

"This is not a dream…" he whispers under his breath, hesitant.

"In this life…"

Greed Sin Deviod

"In this life, I'll reach immortality! Hahaha!" he declares, laughing like a maniac. His arms outstretch to the sides.

"No matter what!"

Nice. Another crackhead.

His eyes shine as the bright, utterly white sphere departs from the orb. Small in size in comparison to the mind and time pathway fragments.

Yet, the very next moment, a second sphere departs. Devoid of shine, black like starless skies.

They revolve around each other, like yin and yang.

They then fuse.

The Fragment of the Death Pathway

Turning gray, the new orb fully converges on the man's nose.

Below his left eye forms an image of a white cicada flying toward the black lotus under his right eye. Gray embers mark his nose, spreading as they reach the black lotus, amidst which stands a candle.

His skin pales further, his eyes darkening. Most strands of his hair turn ashen.

Curvy horns form from his temples, almost quarter-circular. One on the right grows white, bone-like, while the other appears darker than charcoal.

The Archdemon of Death,
The Lord of Ghosts,
Greed Sin Deviod

He seizes the deathly sharp scythe twice his size, his cloudy eyes abnormally wide and manic.

Great! The rainbowhead is clearly pissed. Good job, young man! I'll cheer for your success! Kill as many of these fuckers as you can on your way to immortality!

I start clapping, and the blonde, my spiritual ally, joins me. She attempts to whistle, yet to no avail. Instead, she intensifies her claps.

Yeah! Me too! The enemy of our enemy is our friend!

The Archdemon of Death, as one would assume from his name, ignores our applause. Truly an epitome of edginess. Impudent youngster.

The blonde starts to boo at his dismissal, shaking her head disapprovingly.

Yeah! Fuck him too! Fuck everyone except us two!

 

[C. W. Miraj]

The Great Dao flies toward an even younger person in a high-school uniform from some private school.

Her chestnut hair reaches her dotted skirt while her jade eyes remain disinterested.

Overall, she looks more dead than The Archdemon of Death.

Sloth Sin Asherah

"Is this karma for wasting my parents' credit card on gacha games?" she asks in a whisper, adjusting her puffy headband and lazily turning toward the rainbowhead.

"The scary uncle was right. Memories are gone. I can't even remember their faces… I only vividly remember a survey with meaningless questions… Whatever. Do I get a bonus for becoming an Archdemon? Can I switch sides and join the heroes or whatever? Since there are villains, surely there are heroes. What are the drop rates? What's the difficulty?"

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

"Demons will remain demons, filthy and irredeemable," the rainbowhead spits, begging for a punch with his smug expression.

"That's kinda racist." The girl yawns, fixing her glasses. "Sloth? I'm not even that lazy. I grind twenty-four-seven. I don't remember much, but among all the games I've played, this kind of game I haven't seen. Whatever, I guess."

This time around, it's a green ball. It rushes toward her right cheek.

"It is what it is. Whatever happens, happens."

The Fragment of the Nature Pathway

On her right cheek forms a rose with every green color. Sparkly. Light and dark. Grassy and lime green, soft and sap green, and mint and pastel green all the same.

The rose blooms, all thorny and leafy.

Her eyes brighten, turning emerald, sparkling like an emerald would.

Her messy hair straightens and flows like honey, and her tired expression soothes into harmony. Calmness, seamless tranquility, complete and utter semblance with mother nature.

All the while, her skin dries further, her height lowers further too, and her hair brightens before lengthening, reaching her feet.

Two horns grow like branches.

The Archdemon of Nature,
The Lord of Nymphs,
Sloth Sin Asherah

Before her, a sword, just a straight wooden sword, minimalistic in its appearance, comes to fruition. Literally. Sprouting from the strands of her hair, the extension of her being.

Despite the smaller size of the orb she absorbed, especially in comparison to the time pathway fragment, this girl seems like the most capable among the bunch.

It's just a hunch, of course.

Yet something tells me within the facade of a high-schooler hides a…

"Whatever," she mutters. "I thought I'd get an OP ability. How unlucky…"

Lies. A masquerade. I can't tell where I've developed the instinct. Only one thing I can tell. One thing.

From her actions. From her lack of emotions. From her eyes. From her behavior. From her demeanor. I've been through innumerable life-and-death brawls, surviving on luck, petty tricks, and schemes. What kind? I don't know. When and where? I don't know. Yet, despite missing my memories, the animalistic instinct developed within me remains. It screams—

Avoid that girl.

Avoid that pain in the neck at any cost.

What may at first seem like an innocent youngling is in actuality a walking catastrophe sure to bring forth a cataclysm. A greater disaster that has never before been seen or is never to be seen after.

The rainbowhead directs his gaze elsewhere, dismissing the girl with slight annoyance.

No one else but me can see. What exactly?

"Uncle? Are you into younger women? What a creep."

She knows it. She knows something no one else does. Exactly what?

"I'm barely graduating from school this year. Well, I was about to."

I don't know. The fact that she's played many games before? Her being good at them? The presented probability of her already knowing this game?

No. That's where she's guiding us. These are merely distractors. A ploy.

I try and try, but no ideas come to mind!

How frustrating! Think!

Why am I so fucking stupid—

Lust Sin Takshaka

Oh? During the time I was ruminating, The Great Dao flew toward yet another individual.

Right, I can think about her later. There are more pressing matters at hand.

Why am I so hot-headed to begin with? Was I always like this?

No. I get unreasonably angry and lose control.

There's logic behind everything. What may seem unreasonable initially must have a reason behind it; I just don't know it yet.

Did they mess with my head?

The Fragment of the Decay Pathway

I slap my face.

It's not time to theorize but rather to gather as much information as I can! Concentrate!

"Why are you so harsh with your body? Friend?" asks a handsome bastard. "To care is to firstmost take care of yourself. Always. One must foremost care for oneself. Always. That's where you find love for the world. Remember."

Motherfucker, learn to talk before you point to others' inadequacies — is what I'd love to say. The rainbowhead be damned.

Unseal my fucking vocal cords!

Back to the handsome bastard. I look at him as a large pink orb pierces his lips.

There, a tiny bit above, whiskers sprout.

The lips enlarge and pinken, standing against his bronzed skin and reddish chin-length hair. Some of those strands change in color: a slight green, brown, and red.

Pink droplets mark the area between his lips and chin.

He grows body fur as a foxy, fluffy tail extends from his back, fiery, withering toward the tip.

Overall, he's dressed like a pimp. An expensive white and orange pinstripe suit, a repertoire of accessories like golden watches and shiny rings, and a fedora hat with tiger linings and a straight black feather.

He also has a disposition one would expect from a popular Hollywood actor.

The pimp guy swipes his poisonous, raspberry eyes through the rainbowhead, four spirally horns with pinky dots and varying shades of dark reds growing on his head.

Licking his jelly lips, he savors the boy's body proportions with his molten gaze.

"There's not an ounce of innocence on your cute little face. Fascinating. I don't think I would enjoy it as much as I'd love to. Then. But I do still love new experiences. Delightful. The younger they are—" His voice breaks.

Talk about creeps. Well, this time, the sealing of voice was justified.

The Archdemon of Decay,
The Lord of Chimeras,
Lust Sin Takshaka

A thick amulet, going in a circle around his hairy chest, manifests. The silvery chain, with a giant black spider insignia at its center, sets against his veins.

Strange. The size of the orb was definitely larger than the fragment of the time pathway. Yet the rainbowhead, despite his annoyed sighs, doesn't seem very staggered.

Then, does the size not matter?

After all, how can decay be a grander concept than time itself?

Oh! On the other hand, how can chimeras compare to a mythical race as grand as mighty dragons? Maybe that's the reason.

What if it's not the fragment of the time pathway the rainbowhead is vexed about but rather the dragons?

Perhaps even a combination of both.

That's the most likely scenario.

Gluttony Sin Hlam

Again, I watch the giant orb, The Great Dao, as it levitates above the blonde. It seems our turn has come. But gluttony?

I've never considered it, but how is gluttony different from greed?

The two concepts sound similar to me. Gluttony appears to be a more extreme version of greed, is all.

At the same time, they're like complete opposites.

Greed is the desire to possess, while gluttony is the desire to devour.

One collects, and the other destroys.

One is just insatiable, and the other is always hungry.

Anyhow, I hope she gets a nice—

The Fragment of the Slaughter Pathway

My friend?! Are you okay in there? Surely this must have been random.

Slaughter? This doesn't fit her at all.

Yet why do I feel she has the biggest screw loose inside her head among everyone here?

Again, it's a gut feeling.

Should I trust these hunches of mine? How do I even get these?

The crimson-red orb approaches the woman in workwear.

She looks average. Not appealing, yet not hideous. A person whose face one would forget the next moment they see.

Even her clothes are regular. Long, white sleeves. Straight, navy jeans.

Her empty eyes are dark, and her smile is light, yet also empty. Her honey-blonde hair is tucked behind her ears.

Despite the lack of makeup, her natural face gives the impression she's wearing a thick mask. And behind that mask, it's as though there's a void. Not malice, or hatred. Just absolute emptiness. Worse, even. Emptiness beyond emptiness. A black hole.

Just as the orb almost touches her pale skin, it halts.

A smaller orb splinters off The Great Dao, the color of the abyss, shooting toward the crimson orb.

They converge, forming an ominously bloody orb before it infuses onto her neck. Larger than any orb I've seen yet. Excluding The Great Dao itself, of course.

The rainbowhead gapes at that, his brows twitching.

This is a face I'd pay to see. I'm sure the pimp guy would pay handsomely too, though for an entirely different reason.

 

[C. W. Miraj]

Her skin brightens. Snowy white, that of a porcelain doll.

Her eyes darken. That of the darkest of the dark, abysmally black.

There aren't even any irises there. No nothing. Just pure pools of cosmic corruption.

Her lips pale, and the strands of her hair similarly lose their life.

Thin horns rise from the forehead, slightly backward toward the tip to avoid obstructing vision, yet pointy and deadly.

Dark, also.

A bloody serpent begins to coil around her neck, biting at its tail after finishing a full circle—an ouroboros—a snake that devours itself.

Shit looks scary. If anything, she looks like a demon the most out of everyone here.

She looks at me, winking.

The Archdemon of Gluttony,
The Lord of Plagues,
Gluttony Sin Hlam

I force a smile, awkwardly raising my hand with a thumbs-up gesture.

Slaughter? Plagues? Yeah, I can only reach a sole definitive conclusion.

Yes. This is it. This is love. I've gained consciousness for what, a few minutes? And I've already found the meaning of my life—

Concentrate! Even the pimp guy has more self-respect!

I slap my face. Again.

The sounds ring in my ears.

The woman of my lif— the woman giggles like a bitch, laughing at me while pointing at the tip of her pointy horn. Jokes on you, I'm into that shi—

A cherry book comes into existence. On its back cover sets an onyx moon and on its front carves a sun of the same gloss.

The book opens before her with countless empty pages, dusted and ancient.

So, she's the strongest? From the rainbowhead's ridiculous expressions, I can tell.

It's also possible he's deceiving us by his acting and that the size of the orb doesn't actually matter. But, for one, the rainbowhead looks fucking stupid, his intelligence at best matching the age you'd guess from his childish appearance.

Also, isn't there a saying that good things come in large packages?

I hope we make great allies. Forget about love. I never had any luck with it anyway. It's not like I ever had good luck with anything in particular.

Talking about luck…

I gaze at The Great Dao, hovering a foot away from me.

Come on, give me something good, wouldya? Eternity, destiny, rebirth—you get it. Something good. Please. Please…?

I would pray for luck if I could. It's moments like these that make me wish I were a believer.

Wrath Sin Chandra

Wrath? Well, that explains many things…

Chandra? Is that my name? Oh The Great Dao, bless this humble Chandra of yours with the power to withstand the many tribulations.

I look at it menacingly.

It hovers above me menacingly, looking down into my existence.

My intuition tells me, "Look, look, you're fucked at best."

To my surprise, The Great Dao farts a blue orb very similar to the time pathway fragment, not only in color but also in size.

The Fragment of the Luck Pathway

Luck? Guess I got lucky. In every conceivable way.

The fragment rushes and protrudes from the top lid of my left eye. It burns.

I feel warmth, my body recomposing in ways unbeknownst to me.

My nails lengthen, hardening and sharpening into claws, while my hair grows black, with occasional crimson strands reaching my shoulders.

Three horns are forming, turning backward at an extreme angle in a wide curve, goatlike or even ramlike. Two from the sides and one from the center.

Inside, I can feel my intuition sharpening further. I see the world in different lights. Not just the present but also fragments of the past and the future are present before me.

Is this how fortune tellers feel?

However, rather than fortune, what I'm instinctually inclined to feel is misfortune.

Louder and louder, the cries inside of me shrill and reintensify. I'm emitting a cold, sharp malice, my mind clouded by the pervasive desire to inflict suffering onto others.

To kill, to torture, to enslave. The desire to destroy, to spread dread, and I'm enamored by it.

This is not normal. Not human. How pathetic of me to let them affect my mind.

Anger issues are one thing, but this—this is insufferable. My mind is dictated by me and me alone. Not others. I can't let foreign desires control me.

The Archdemon of Luck,
The Lord of Devils,
Wrath Sin Chandra

Killing, torturing, or inflicting pain upon others in any capacity—I don't care. I never did. There was only me and those I treasured, and then there was the rest of the world.

However, now there's only me.

I don't remember those others. I don't even remember why I treasured those others.

Then, what does that make of me? Am I not just a… monster? An empty shell?

I don't have any goals in life. I don't have any pursuits in life. Rather, slight disappointment with the world and with me. Myself. Why so? How so?

Perhaps the key to understanding myself lies therein. Not without, but within. Inside of me.

Yes, if I remain oblivious to myself, the desires will one day inevitably prevail over me.

Then I won't know why I kill. I won't know why I live. I'll know nothing, living as a walking dead. With no self, no intent, no thought, and no thorough understanding.

The circular box with a kaleidoscope of colors and symbols disrupts my reflection by eventuating before me.

Tripartite Mandala

What the hell is this? What do I even do with it? It's like Pandora's box. You open it, and you either get the world's riches or straight up die.

Doesn't help that it looks like the real deal from the myths. Wait… what myths?

How do I remember that?

I can even remember the cost of living in modern Hong Kong, yet I can't reckon the face of anyone I knew.

The blonde drums the table, cheering. I look at her with a nod of approval.

Forget about the suffering and setbacks; what matters is that I have the potential to obtain the power to dye the world into my coloration.

Only the powerful have the privilege to decide whether to spare or kill, to die or live.

As such, I'll first need to guarantee my strength.

Yet, to my surprise and terror, healthy laughs of the rainbowhead pierce through the fog.

"Hahahaha!"

Immediately, I get a terrible premonition.

"I haven't witnessed anyone get that in all the previous iterations!"

What went wrong?

"With this, the first phase is concluded," he says funnily, his shoulders shaking and cheeks flush. "Exactly this time after a year, the Walpurgis Night will commence, where you'll compete amongst yourselves to recruit as many Demon Lords as you can into your faction."

"Before that, you must raise your respective dungeons, resisting the constant onslaught of people and monsters alike." He raises a hand to wipe away the tears of laughter.

"Some may even die in the process."

He looks at me with a smug face.

"That's all. Figure out the rest by yourselves."

The space fractures in the center once more, and The Great Dao leaves.

The next moment, various portals of varying colors appear on each throne belonging to an Archdemon.

The first to leave is the Pride Sin.

Without hesitation, the Envy Sin and the Greed Sin follow.

Sloth Sin lingers her gaze on me, sighing in exasperation and following suit.

Lust Sin sends the rainbowhead a kiss and winks suggestively, buckling back and teleporting.

Only the blonde and I remain beside the rainbowhead.

"What?" he asks.

The blonde points to her mouth.

"Fine, speak, tell what you will," the rainbowhead tiredly points at her, unsealing her voice.

"No cakes for you. I'll feed you your coc—" Before she can finish her words, she's forcefully plunged into the portal.

"And you?" the rainbowhead asks, pointing at me. "Must you also show your colors before departing?"

"What is wrong with what I got?" I ask with a questioning face, forcefully suppressing the anger welling within me.

"Oh?" The rainbowhead smiles, condescension flashing in his eyes. "Do you remember the gifts you've received?"

"Yes. The Hero's Curse and The Reverse Plot Armor—"

I still. It can't be…

His smile deepens. "For the sake of balance, among a few other curses, the Demon Lords have their luck halved. You realize now, don't you?"

I gulp, my throat dry.

He continues, "The Luck Pathway… Perhaps among all the other fragments you could get…"

"Luck is the unluckiest," I finish.

"Bingo!" He points with both fingers. "You're unusually smart for Wrath. Truly an exception among exceptions. Hahahaha!"

"Hahahahahahaha!" I, too, laugh.

The rainbowhead is the first to cease his laughs. "What's so funny?"

"You tell me," I say, raising my palm. "Because it's a sin to be wrathful at the world. Who can control fate? One can only plow its rivers."

"A strange one," he says, clasping his hands.

"A dumb one," I deadpan, pointing at his twitching expression.

Then everything goes dark.

Darkness so pure not a single ray of light can reach the bottomless pit of malice within.

Until I'm greeted by a tall green creature with shark teeth as sharp as the sword attempting on my life, held in their thin hand.

I should've known better than to spew shit at a deity…

 

[C. W. Miraj]

Then with a dart I spring to the side and thrust my arm out and down at the tall creature.

Just when my claws are about to pierce his guts and he is about to drown in despair at his inevitable doom vivid from the fear in his mad eyes a speeding arrow creeps its way toward my shoulder.

I barely dodge by backing away.

"Gunter! Be careful!" cries ring in the cold. "The dungeon boss seems to be unclassified! We don't know of his powers!"

A squawk. Then silence.

A staredown.

We size each other up.

Tattooed and scarred abrim.

A toothy grin.

And an even wider hook-nose.

And a greenish and rough skin.

Pointed and long ears just like his arms that are thin yet as muscular as they can get.

A goblin?

More like an ogre and a goblin banged and had a child then 'Hooray!' they shouted and 'Gunter!' they called this very abomination before me and called it a day.

Gunter— he jumps at me— the tip pointed at my heart.

How crude.

I can see where he's aiming. So I dodge. Tighten my fingers. Then punch.

Yet—

Accelerate |E|

He dodges. He shifts. He switches to a horizontal slash. And slashes. All in an instant.

Fuck—

Blood spurts.

Accelerate |E|

He thrusts his shiny blade toward my heart before the blood can even fall. Before I can even process the pain in its entirety.

I dodge this time. To the left. Though barely.

An arrow pierces my chest.

Paralyze |E|

"Got him!"

Shock. Despair. And—

Accelerate |E|

Here he comes.

I try to dodge—

Shackle |F|

Something grabs at my feet.

Shit—

Gunter pierces my heart before I know it.

My body splays onto the floor as my skull cracks. Blood. Blood everywhere. Pain. Pain anywhere. My head–mmy–my hea-he-ha… Ha— HAHAHAHA

…

"He almost got me there," says Gunter, turning to look at the individual who approaches from afar.

"Thanks, Estia."

Estia lowers her bow, puffing her cheeks. "You'll get killed with such recklessness."

Her autumn hair sways, falling past her red eyes and flushed, pointy ears as she stops before Gunter, looking up at him.

An elf?

Gunter stares past the elf. "You too, human. If you didn't shackle him, it could've gotten troublesome."

"I have a name, you know?" insists the woman, approaching with slender steps.

With amber hair and triple folds on her robe, the trim of her cape hangs like pleats. Her leggings circle downward from left and right, intertwining.

A human indeed.

"To think there'd be a lesser demon at such a dungeon."

She adjusts her purplish pointy hat with one hand and presses a magical book against her flat chest with the other.

Just the three of them? Gunter, his elven bitch, and a woman.

I look at the vaulted ceiling through the vast space. The moonlight barely streams through its cracks, fissures which are covered by decay and neglect.

It smells funny; of my blood and the moist stone. I can barely breathe without hitching in this humidity. The moss on the floor tickles my bare body.

"Should we sell or absorb the dungeon core?" asks the elven bitch. "You risked your life there, and we wouldn't have come to this dungeon on our way back were it not for your suggestion. I wouldn't mind if you took it, Gunter."

I tilt my head to the left and glance at the shining orb. Crimson orb. It's hovering above a pedestal, calling to me. Is that what's keeping me alive? The dungeon core?

My body begins to glow red.

The Devil's Wrath |E|*

"In all fairness, we wouldn't have found it if Miss Wizard didn't detect it. She found it the very moment the dungeon formed." Gunter catches his breath and runs a hand through his iron-colored, spiky hair, which stands upward and slightly outward. "Do you mind if I do?"

The woman shakes her head hesitantly. "You did the most job, so it's fine by me too. You can absorb the orb."

The three come to a tacit agreement.

"We can still earn a lot by selling the demon's corpse—" Until the elven bitch pales in terror.

"Huh? What's happe—"

"BEHI—!"

Late, bitch.

I hug Gunter dearly, tenderly clasping my right hand on his heart over his shoulder, my left hand on his chin over his neck.

He gasps in shock.

Empower |E|

He strikes his elbow to my lungs with a maddening force. I cough in a fit of blood, my insides turning upside down, churning.

Yet I don't let go.

Shackle |F|

Luminescent blue ropes tie my hands, invisible weights.

Yet it's nothing.

I screw his head like a rusted bolt. It strips and snaps. The shackles, the resistance, the life.

He dies in an instant, his neck twisted and broken.

I use his body as a shield to defend against the oncoming elf.

Her knife pierces into Gunter's stomach.

"YOU BASTARD!"

Without losing momentum, I pierce through the corpse and lunge at the elf, pulling her to the floor while plucking her eyes with my claws.

"ARGHHHH—!"

I lift my hand, downing it in a punch. Her nose cracks.

"Hahaha…"

I strike, and strike, and strike.

We roll and roll before my grip drives the life out of her.

Magic Missile |F+|

Magic Bullet |F|

Things hit my back. I don't give a fuck.

I strike, then strike, then strike, and strike, strike.

I grip her breasts, popping them.

Blood, blood, blood, blood, blood.

Blood flows, blood rivers, blood pools, more blood, even more bloooooooo—
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHQAHAZHAHAHAHAHR—"

I feel ecstatic, so much so that I bend and lick the bloodied innards, chewing on the brain matter.

Disgusting. I spit my meal. I then lick what I spat and devour the rest up until I can't help myself anymore.

AAhhhhhhh. HOW exhilarating. How, how, how—

I feel danger. I look back at the woman who rushes toward the red orb.

My orb? My precious little orb? She wants to absorb it! She wants to steal what's mine?!?!

I glance sideways at the corpse of a goblin lying in a pool of blood. Extending my hand, I tear his head off and catapult it at the girl.

She glances back with fright.

Magic Shield |F+|

A transparent blue shield breaks the very moment it forms.

The head crushes her, sending her crashing into the wall.

She lies in crumbles and doesn't budge an inch. Weak, bloodied.

No. No-no. NO NO NO NO NO

YOU CAN'T DIE! YOU CANNOT DIE!!!

TOO LITTLE SUFFERING! SHE JUST DIED? JUST DIED?! IT CAN'T BE NO IT CANNOT BE!

I want to kill her slowly. Watch her go from hopeful to despair. Watch her beg for forgiveness and cry blood.

I want to tear her body parts and feed them to her while tearing apart her other body parts.

I want to skin her alive and grill her innards with that magic of hers while chewing on her guts.

I want to stamp on her face and then stamp and tramp and once more stamp until she's inscribed to the floor in a pile of piss and snot.

"HEY!"

I extend my bloodied, veiny hand. Sharp, black-clawed, crimson-glowing. Pointing at her with a single finger.

"HEY SAY SOMETHING!"

Her pathetic state invokes anger in me.

"SURELY YOU DON'T THINK YOUR LIFE IS YOURS!"

I roar, the shrills grinding the walls in a very manifestation of wicked and tremendous power before cracking and upsurging like a throat sewn with razors.

"LIVE! COME BACK! LIVE TO DIE! IN PEACE AND PIECES!"

Limping, I stride toward her, my hands clenching, grinding the pretty face of an elf, the head of which I don't even remember snapping. I grind my teeth against the corpse's skull, crunching the bones and chewing on the veins.

Finally, I stand before her. I look at her miserable figure, a cracked forehead, bleeding ears, and teary eyes, and, shiver. Shiver? She shivers?

"So, you're alive…"

"So you're alive… and well…"

"Well."
"WELL WELL WELL"

She presses her hands hard against her ears, her shoulders trembling.

"WOULD YOU LOOK AT THIS"

Bending to my knees in excitement, I caress her cheeks. My claws leave scrapes, and blood flows. All I see is fear, and I like it. I love it. More. MORE. How can I make her even more miserable? For the sin of storming bullets and missiles onto my back, for the sin of daring to obstruct me, for the sin of existing.

Too, too many unforgivable sins.

I can't I CAAN'T. This is infuriating. TOO infuriating.

Against my will, my other hand moves on its own, about to come down on— dawn on the girl's dreadful face.

"Mommy…" she murmurs, her face covered in snot. "I'm sorry…"

No. Stop. STOP. She can't just die like that, right? She can't die without experiencing the pain so excruciating, so agonizing, that she begs for it like a starving orphan, only to be killed in anguish and horror.

"I'm so, so sorry…" she whispers under her breath, regret washing over her.

My hand falters before touching her face. It stops. The glowing red begins to pass off.

HAND WHY DID YOU STOP HAND WHY DID YOU STOP

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" I laugh crazily.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—" I keep laughing crazily.

"HAhAhhahaha… ha…hh" I cry crazily. Tears fall. My eyes. Why is that? My vision…

She finally opens her eyes, locking them with mine, determination there. Determination to accept her inevitable doom.

"Begone…" I shout at her, my spit falling all over her face.

Yet my hands don't move. My body doesn't move. I stay frozen.

Why is that?

Her eyes widen, looking at me incredulously.

Why is that? Why…

"What have I become?" I ask.

I strike right, ripping into the walls like it's nothing. The red wears off.

 

[C. W. Miraj]

Only the red of blood pertains.

From the crack, I glimpse at the outside world. There's a blue orb in the skies, and the weather is clouded by clouds and fogs below.

It appears I'm inside some cathedral or citadel or castle of sorts. Judging from the height, I'm currently on the second floor.

There are chirps of unfamiliar birds zig-zagging through the faraway mountains and zip-zaps of crickets.

The light peers through the glassy auroras in the skies, tracing the walls in greens and purples and basking me in blue.

Blue. Her eyes are blue.

Bright. Brighter than the skies.

A pair of sapphires streaming the raining moonlight.

They drown in melancholy upstreaming from deep within the rivers of her heart.

The tears, crystal.

So clear. So innocent.

So pure not a single ray of malevolence or a drop of malice can be sought within.

They, flow, unceasingly, fast, unceasingly fast, as fast as the blood that ways its course through the protrusion on her broad forehead.

She sucks in quick breaths between sobs.

Her lips twist, and tremble.

Her throat gulps, and swallows, and hiccups, in wails.

Tears well well.

Her face scrunches. Her voice pitches, warbling. Her fists clench, but the tears, they keep coming. The cries burst and fade into sniffles yet burst yet again.

Did I… raise my hand to a kid?

I look back. There, at the mutilated corpses lying on the stone floor.

Did I… just eat… them?

I barely keep my composure, resisting the urge to vomit. Then I look at the girl, who's sneakily trying to reach for a book dropped a few steps away from her.

"Don't even think," I say calmly, staring holes through her.

She hitches and raises her hands into the air, surrendering.

"Good," I say, standing and extending my hand to her. "Can you somehow heal the protrusion on your head? The wound is quite dangerous if left untreated."

Her eyes don't move as she stares straight ahead in fright, my words going in one ear and out the other.

"Hey!" I call. "You wouldn't want to die like they did, now, do you?"

She finally snaps back into reality, blinking repeatedly, then scrubbing her tears away.

The kid stands on her own, shaking, then flailing to the ground once again, hitting her head on the floor once more.

Is this really the kid who stormed bullets through my back? Come to think of…

I look down at my heart. The once large hole is now merely a tiny gap, my skin stitching itself back with incredible regeneration. Although weak, I can hear my heartbeats.

I look at the girl, who has blues glowing out of her shaky palms, her hands a reach away from her forehead.

Heal |F+|

It heals, though slowly in comparison to the regeneration I possess.

Interesting. She's not using the book this time, then how can she perform her… sorcery?

Is the book required only for attack spells? I want to ask, yet instead, I calmly watch her. The girl is clearly shaken, understandably so.

I did beat the living shit out of her, and beat the life out of her friends…

I feel bad. Not about the killing. That I'm accustomed to. What I feel bad about is my disgusting thoughts accompanied by actions. I let the strange forces take hold of me, and I relished them.

It did save my life, but at what cost?

If I didn't stop in time, what kind of unspeakable deeds would I commit against this kid?

It might sound presumptuous and hypocritical after depriving two lives and grinding their skin against my teeth. But no, I'm just racist. Why would I give a shit about goblins and elves? I've lived as a human, and I'm a human at heart.

Yes, I'm a hypocrite. But who isn't, really? I have yet to develop sympathy for the extraterrestrial beings. For now, they're just like animals to me.

Mere food.

Food?

I slap my face. There's someone else thinking for me. These thoughts aren't mine. Rather, they've been implanted into my mind by some forces. It doesn't help that I don't remember much of my past life.

So, essentially, I have no identity.

Who am I really? A human? A demon? Both?

"Umm…" The girl finally speaks. "You can… speak?"

"Are you fucking blind?!" I shout at her. Fuck, I didn't mean to shout that! "Are you fucking deaf?!" No! That's not it! I didn't mean to shout altogether!

She shivers, bowing her head. "Please forgive me, oh Great Demon!"

"What the fuck is with the Great Demon thing?" I ask, frowning.

"Umm… Are you not?"

"Do I look like I have a fucking clue?!" I shout at her. I didn't mean to be this loud. Calm down; it's just a kid.

Her shivers intensify. She freezes, speechless.

Her eyes accidentally fall on the corpse of the elf, and she swells up, and bloats.

Then she bends over, and throws up.

Fucking hell. I can't have a normal discussion with this moron.

Yes, let's just be patient and tread calmly. It's just a kid, better give her some room for breathing.

"If you pull any funny shit once more, I'm tearing apart your arm!"

No, not like that! Not just an arm—

She attempts to close her mouth, yet instead pukes more.

That's it, I'm killing this bi—

NO!

Lord give me patience, because if you give me strength, I'm gonna kill this bi—

I breathe in and out. In and out. Patience is a virtue. I must cultivate it. I must be patient. I, must be patient. Come on, inner peace. I don't have all day.

All things are difficult before they become easy. Have patience. Okay.

Breathe… calmly… in… and… out…

In… and out… in… and out.

I'm calm.

"You finished, bitch?! Don't test my patience!"

She backs away instinctually, leaning against the wall, her hands clasped tight, terror washing over her.

"Good," I tell her, nodding my head. "First, it's fucking cold. Give me that robe of yours."

She shakes, watching in between my legs.

"That's inappropriate, kid."

Her eyes shoot up. She freezes momentarily, then takes her purplish robes with brownish linings off and hands them to me.

I take my time to wear it. Good. It barely covers. It'd be weird to lead a conversation with my goods hanging.

"How do I look?" I ask.

She nods her head, her teeth grinding from frost. Without the robe, she seems plainer, with a black and tight tunic and bruises over her neck.

"Speak, moron. Are you mute too?!"

Her legs teeter, her leggings barely warming her. Her arms shake, crossed together to cover herself. Whether from shame, fear, or cold or maybe everything altogether, I don't know. I don't care.

"Youuu looo-oo-kk fassci-nating-q-g."

"Bullshit! I was testing you," I shout, pointing at her. "Ingrain this into your mind. The first rule. That is, if you want to live. Don't ever lie to me! That's the first rule!"

"Tell me. The first rule. Is?!"

"Too-o-o no-ot everrr l-lie to Si-sir!"

"Don't stutter!"

"To no-o-o. To n-n-n." She blinks repeatedly, sobbing. "To not lie to Sir ever!"

"Good, good, good." I clap my hands, smiling. They say kids learn fast. It's true. I'm proud. "Now, tell me everything."

"Everything…?"

How stupid of me to praise her. Kids will remain dumb no matter. "Are you serious right now?!"

She looks at me questioningly.

Calm down… patience… tranquility… peace…

I aggressively remove the arrow hanging from the left side of my chest. Blood fountains. "DOES THIS GIVE ANY CLUES? PATIENCE HAS FUCKING LIMITS!"

"I WAKE THE FUCK UP AND THE NEXT THING I KNOW I GET A FILTHY FUCKING GOBLIN SHOVING ITSELF UP MY ASS LIKE IT'S TRYING TO LAY BOTH ITS STICK AND HOSE IN ME. THEN THAT BITCH DECIDES TO TOSS A FUCKING ARROW AT MY RIGHT LIKE SHE'S PLAYING FUCKING DARTS AND THEN `NOTHER MOTHERFUCKER COMES ALONG AND TRIES TO STAKE MY HEART LIKE I'M A FUCKING VAMPIRE AT A MIDNIGHT MASSSTAKING! YET AFTER ALL THIS SHIT YOU STAND THERE TALKING `BOUT SELLING MY FUCKING CORPSE LIKE I'M A GODDAMN CHRISTMAS TREE ON CLEARANCE SALE! WHILE I LAY HERE SLURPING UP MY OWN FUCKING BLOOD OFF THIS SHITSTAINED FLOOR LIKE I AIN'T GOT NO GODDAMN SENSE! WHAT THE FUCK AM I A THANKSGIVING TURKEY? A RABID DOG?"

I forcefully grab at her hair, dragging her along the floor toward the elven corpse so that I can feed her ears to her.

She covers her ears, trembling.

"DON'T GET ME STARTED ON HOW YOU PERSONALLY FUCKED MORE HOLES INTO MY BODY THAN A NEWLYWED COUPLE ON THEIR FIRST FUCKFEST! I'VE SEEN PINCUSHIONS WITH BETTER INTEGRITY THAN THIS CLUSTERFUCK OF BONES I'M IN! MY BLOOD HAS BEEN SPILLED MORE TIMES THAN A MOTHERFUCKING BARTENDER DROPS DRINKS ON A FRIDAY NIGHT! YOU HAVE THE FUCKTONE OF AUDACITY TO STAND THERE TREMBLING LIKE A FUCKFACE CHIHUAHUA AND ACT LIKE I'M THE CRAZY FUCKHEAD?! FOR FUCK'S SAKE. ENOUGH FUCKERY. BITCH. I'LL SHOW YOU CRAZY!"

"I'm sowwyyyyyy—"

"NO YOU'RE NOT SORRY YER FUCKING STUPID"

I stand before the elven corpse, a smile creeping up my face.

Red glows appear on my body—

No!

With my other hand, I hit my face as hard as I can, blinding myself in my left eye.

"ARGHHHHHHH"

I drop the moron down and fall back, pressing hard on my bloodied eye.

"FUCK!"

Relax… Relax….

I'm relaxed… I'm relaxed… I'm relaxed…

Don't let the wrath consume you… Don't let the wrath…

"FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

 

[C. W. Miraj]

Heal |F+|

"Hang in there!" she calls, coating my face in blue glows.

As if that's enough to curry a favor with me.

Well, at least better than bullets.

Oh, there's apparently a hole in my forehead? One of the previous bullets? Strange.

How did I even function with a hole in my head?

It's closing up, though. So all good, I guess.

Except that I'm blind in my left eye.

Surely this can heal. If my regeneration can heal and restore a brand-new heart in minutes, then that mustn't be that big of an ordeal?

Right? Right.

Even stranger than all, blinding myself somehow calmed me.

Did I develop masochistic tendencies by chance? It's painful, yet it's peaceful all the same.

What now, do I just walk with a peg up my butthole so I can feel constant pain?

"Umm… I'm almost out of mana…" she mutters.

Oh, is that why the moron didn't attack me? Smart girl. There's no way I'd have contained myself if she went through with it.

One more blue projectile and I'm projecting her face on the walls.

I watch her with my unblinded eye, making sure she doesn't run off and absorb the red orb. Something within me tells me the orb is the crux of my vitality, and without it, I'll wither.

Yet what I see on her face is… concern?

In quiet distress, her brows tense, and her lips quite quiver whilst her glassy eyes reflect the waning crucibles of blue magic still milling between her fingers, slipping and shifting, flitting and flickering, ghosting.

It's sincere. Sincere worry. Why? This is troublesome.

I wouldn't want to attack a woman. I wouldn't want to attack a child. I wouldn't want to attack a good-hearted person. I wouldn't want to attack someone who has the capacity to care…

It's just like with animals. It doesn't feel bad eating a cow because cows look fucking edible. But with dogs? Hell no. That just feels wrong. Unpalatable. I'd rather eat shit than dog stew.

Now, if the dog were a companion with whom I've spent time and forged memories, then that's no longer a stew but a shit to die for, even.

Attachment is a scary thing.

A thing is, dogs can't stab your back, while an intelligent being can use you and then throw you away the moment they get a chance. Attachment is not reciprocal.

Animals pursue emotions and instincts, some humans do too, most do. However, the truly intelligent ones pursue benefits. For one cannot rely on compassion and understanding. The sword and the pen, on the other hand, will always have one's back. They are always loyal. They are always understanding.

Gunter's hate was piercing, yet it didn't pierce. No matter how much the elf or the goblin hated me, no matter what emotions of me they had, and no matter what dreams they had for their future—

They're dead. Filthy, scorned upon, and mutilated. Why?

Because their sword wasn't sharp enough! Because the arrows weren't piercing enough!

Because the dreams and the emotions they had carried no weight behind them!

Because they dared stand against me! Someone stronger than them!

And did I not murder them, her friends?

Yes, the worry is sincere indeed. But it's not worry for me, or for her friends, for that matter.

Instead, she's worried about herself. That must be it.

A reasonable one, huh. So her cries weren't for the tragic death of her companions, but rather the fear of death and regret.

Come to think of it, while I was strangling the elf, instead of continuing to send bullets at me, she ran straight for the orb.

Very bright, especially for someone her age. Most kids her age wouldn't handle such stress so well.

She witnessed a bloodbath, a demon, and experienced immense physical pain.

And yet she stands.

Someone exceptional, I can tell.

Not yet, but there's a dormant potential lying within this weakling. Perhaps with time.

Oh. I blink, with my left eye, looking at her snotty face. I can see once more.

I stand, and as I do, she flinches.

"Don't fret," I say calmly.

I wave a hand in lazy reassurance. Easing my gaze. Smiling lightly.

"I was out of myself. I have no intention to kill you." Lies slip past without a hitch.

She looks at me with a questioning and yet even moreso terrified face. Yes, I don't believe what I said either, but it's nice to start a conversation without threats for once. Hah, a breath of fresh air.

"I do believe there is a slight misunderstanding between us, and that we are no enemies." I extend my hand in a greeting gesture. "The fault is fate wholly, and the circumstances were beyond us."

She stares at it, petrified. That's perfectly fine.

My smile only deepens, and my eyes ease further.

My ridiculous outfit, the purple magical girl robe coupled with brownish creases, only helps assert that no, I'm not a maniacal lunatic. That I'm not crazy, just insane.

The kid finally takes my hand, shaking. And I shake it, firmly grabbing hers.

"What is your name?" I ask her gently.

It takes her time to process a single simple question. "Umm…"

"Mari… Marisella."

"Wow." I clasp our hands with my other hand. "Such a beautiful name, Marisella. May I call you Mari? I like long names; they're my favorite. But it's quite hard to get off the tongue each time if you know what I mean."

She nods her head, albeit slowly.

"Very good." I make sure to talk calmly and gently with pauses in between, to alleviate some stress. "What does the name mean, I wonder."

I crease my brows as if in deep thought.

From a prey frozen in terror, I attempt to force her to a controlled social interaction, out of passive fear and into active engagement.

"Umm… it means 'star of the sea'. It's from Latin…"

"That is indeed a wondrous name!" I grab onto her shoulders, my eyes lit. Yet quickly let go.

"You see, Mari, I don't have many memories… I just awakened inside this building, and the very next thing I know, my life is in mortal danger…"

I lower my gaze, curling my lips downward. "I don't know much about the world, but I do know that somewhere, sometime in the past, I was once a human. I lived as a human. Once…"

"Yet the memories are gone… and I can't even control myself properly…" Tears fall. I brush them, avoiding her gaze entirely.

Acting was a necessary skill for a street rat, for a beggar crawling the streets. As such, I can easily shed tears or blood with no remorse or concern. It's ingrained in me.

My lips quiver. I bite into them, blood flowing. Swiping my eyes across the stone walls, I scrutinize them.

They seem to be part of the once prominent estate, old and deep, muted in browns and golds.

There's a sense of clandestine warmth but also, moreso, a sense of gothic creepiness.

As though in the shadows lie monsters.

"I-I…" I slump to the floor, my knees hitting the floor with a clack. "To think that I'd become a murderer!"

I shakily raise my palms, watching the blood on my black claws trickle down my fingers.

Raising my chin, I watch the domed ceiling too high above. As though pondering life. My crimes, my fate, and my sins. In reality, I'm just fucking around.

The room is almost circular, slightly squarish. It's large in size and width, the lights bathing through the dark curtains of small diamond windows above. The light is soft, atmospheric, low. The warmth spotlights the moss on the walls like a weak lamp or an extinguishing candle.

Finally, of course, at the center is a pedestal, or an altar of sorts, wherein hovers a crimson orb.

My thoughts break as the girl extends her hand to me.

"I think I know what's happening," she says, her blue eyes resolute.

Huh? The hell? Is this the same scrawny, scared, and pitiful figure I know?

"I'll help you regain your memories and guide you through this hell," she says.

I did want to seem vulnerable, but that was to have an open discussion.

To garner information, basically. This, this I didn't expect.

"So the millennial war has begun…" she whispers.

I stand on my own, regaining my composure.

I smile.

Mari, huh.

Am I pathetic for not wanting to kill her?

Am I pathetic for wanting to kill her?

"I do want to hear…" I say, my fists tightening. "To pay back to whoever did this to me."

She nods, pointing at me. "Very well. But before I tell you, you've asked for my name, haven't you? I wonder what yours is. Or do you not remember?"

Ha, look at this kid.

My name? It's—

My name…

What was my name? Chandra? No, that's the name bestowed to me by the bastards.

I had a name. A name my friends and family referred to me as.

I have a name.

"Chu…"

"Chu?" she asks, bewildered. "What a weird name."

"No, not that. Let me think…"

***, I wish I never fucked that filthy bitch! Is this all you could get for today?! That's not even enough for booze—

You want to sell your organs? What a weird kid. I don't know people who harvest around here. Though ***, you do have sleek looks now that I look. There might just be a demand for your body—

You— You didn't kill the old man, did you, ***? They'll be up your ass in days! They will kill you! They will kill your sister too! No, by her looks, it's worse! They'll either fuck her to death or enslave her! Why did you not think of the others?

"I do remember!" I shout. Fuck, didn't mean to.

"My name is—"

"Chan!"

I say proudly, brushing my nose.

Mari stares at me blankly, her lips pursing before twisting, wrinkling her nose like she tasted foul.

Do I really look that ridiculous? Does purple really not fit me at all?

"Umm…" she mutters, extending her hand once more. "Let's cooperate, Chan. Let's be friends. But let's have an equal grounding. Since I've promised that I won't lie to you, I ask that you promise me that you won't ever spontaneously kill me."

What am I, a madman? Hmph!

I grab her hand, forcing a smile. "I promise, Mari."

Around us form lights. They speak to me.

That I've successfully changed my fate.

This very day, I was meant to kill everyone, not just the two, but I abstained.

I can now see your future, Mari. I can clearly feel it.

Although it looks bleak, and cloudy, and dark—

Beyond the obscurities and obstruction—

Light.

There's light.

Blazing, bright, kind.

A future, where there's no me.

 

[C. W. Miraj]

"Umm…"

I tilt my head. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know where to begin…" Her lips press together in quiet deliberation

Mira fingers her arms loosely, her other hand slipping up to her chin. "You really don't seem like you know a thing."

"Did you just call me stupid?" I tilt my head to the other side, smiling.

That head of hers, I suddenly feel like bashing it.

Maybe I'll get to know everything once I eat her brains.

"No no no—" Mira anxiously waves her hands in protest. "I'm just stating facts, you know?"

Sweats dripple down her cheeks.

"I did say I won't spontaneously kill you, but you're giving me reasons to reasonably kill you, my dear friend," I tell her with closed eyes.

"Don't let your sin consume you!" she yells at me, pointing a finger.

Huh? The hell is this kid—

"You feel it, no? As if someone is controlling your mind! As if you're not in your right mind, yes?" Her words flow fast like rivers like she's rushing to get through them before fear takes over. "The matter of fact is, it only gets worse. The more you sin, the sweeter it tastes, the easier it becomes, and the less you feel. And the less you feel, the less you care about repentance."

Annoying. Ha, to think that I'm getting lectured by a kid! This brat doesn't know her place—

"You'll lose yourself inside the deepest corners of the abyss, and the darkness will start to feel like home! You'll lose yourself and become a complete monster!"

The kid throws her arms wide, chest exposed, chin lifted, a grin stretching across.

"Come kill me then!" She laughs nervously, her actions defying her frightened eyes. "Show the world how weak you are!"

…

She steps forth, approaching me before standing before my eyes, looking up at me with a suicidal grin.

"What are you waiting for? Do it!"

Bold of her to assume I'm not going to take her on the offer.

I raise my hand, sharpening the claws.

"But know that you will remain a plaything for the deities!"

"Know that you cannot control your wretched self!"

"Know that you will continue to be miserable!"

"Until you drown in sin!"

"Until your last breath!"

She shouts and shouts.

Her shouts echo, and wane, yet remain as piercing.

Then silence. Silence shrouds the shadows.

I look at her as she looks at me, boldly.

"Hahaha…" I chuckle. I can't help myself. This kid… "and here I thought you were a scaredy cat. But you're willing to throw away your life so easily… I see…"

"I was the presumptuous one, wasn't I?" My face cracks, my eyes widen, and my lips curl upward without asking me. Laughter builds inside of me. Demonic, disgusting.

"All along, I was the one lacking in resolve, wasn't I?" My eyes sear, and my fingers twist, clench and crack. "You're right, I'm miserable."

I dawn my hand.

Mira shudders in shallow gasps, scared shitless.

Her fingers clutch the sleeves of her tunic.

Then I strike.

She closes her eyes, twitching.

I pierce my heart, grabbing onto the warmth and plucking it.

How painful. How agonizingly painful.

She opens them, her eyes. Gaping in relief, then horror.

"I feel better," I say calmly. "What? The worst is it stops regenerating and I die."

I sit on the cold floor in a lotus position, pointing opposite me.

"Please sit, Mira."

"That robe cost me a fortune…" she bickers in murmur after backing away. "What's wrong with you…"

Hmm… Nothing. Perhaps everything. I'm not certain. If I knew, I wouldn't be wrong. Who wants to be wrong?

"The dungeon core doesn't have an infinite mana reservoir, you know? That heart may as well not grow back," she points out.

"So?" I bite on it, munching. "I seem to be doing pretty fine without it."

"Umm… no…" she mutters. "I'm not an expert regarding demonology, but I'm pretty sure most beings die without a heart."

"Just sit," I tell her, running my eyes through her. "What's done is done. There's no point lamenting. You should've warned me."

"Could you…" she whispers, her voice breaking midway. "Can you put that away? It creeps me out…"

"But it fills my heart."

"You have no heart".

"Right." I throw my second heart to the back. Shit tastes bad anyway.

My heart, or well, the place where it's supposed to be, pains. Something grows there. It tickles, and sizzles.

She sits cross-legged, trying her best to avoid looking at my chest.

Mira raises three fingers.

"Let me start from the beginning, then…"

I listen to her attentively.

***

Before man came to be, before hope came to be, and before the universe came to be, there was complete and utter darkness.

In the dark roamed eldritch horrors.

Not much, if anything, is known about the beings of the void.

Nobody knows how they came to be, or what they were, really.

All that is known is that those fearsome entities aren't subjected to logic.

Just like the creation of the universe.

Just like the coming of the First Thresher—

The Adjudicator
The Progenitor
The King in Yellow

The First Thresher isolated the space from the void.
The First Thresher founded the stars and the planets.
The First Thresher blessed the land with life and light.

That was how the universe came to be.

Then came the Second Thresher.

The Architect
The Prismancer
The Tyrant in Blue

The Second Thresher established the laws and the limits.
The Second Thresher colored the world in vivid emotions.
The Second Thresher governed the forces and the conduct.

That was how the hope came to be.

Then came the Third Thresher.

The Anarchist
The Puppeteer
The Regent in Red

The Third Thresher opposed everything and everyone.
The Third Thresher sowed seeds of horror and evil.
The Third Thresher toyed with destiny and truth.

From ruin, man was shaped.

With man, sin was born.

Demons were born.

***

"Hold on—" I raise my hand in a stopping gesture. "That's an interesting tale and all, but I don't get what the point is. I'd rather you explain to me how magic works, what the dungeons are, and why the weird mechanical voice keeps popping in my head."

"You serious? You told me to explain everything, no?" Mira asks with an annoyed expression.

Son of a bitch. Wait, no. Daughter of a bitch.

"Can I?" she asks, raising a brow.

"Oh, of course!" I shout merrily, waving my hand like a bourgeoise. "Also do explain to me what you ate today for breakfast! Oh, also what your favorite bird is and why! Oh oh, also also what you saw in your dreams today! I'm sooo~ interested, bestie~"

I snatch the purplish pointy hat lying beside us and put it on, clasping my hands like a princess. "While we're at that, why not prepare some cookies and a steaming tea."

"BITCH!" I shout. "Just get to the magic part! Magic! Can't you see, I'm a magical demon girl! A fucking daemon! That's me!"

"Not a magical gundam! Not a priest or historian for fuck's sake. Kid, keep the cosmic fairy tales bullshit outta—"

Mira extends her arm and presses her right fingertip against my lips.

"You call me a kid, but you talk and shout like a baby, no?" She smiles widely, mockingly. Her eyes narrow with mischief. "Besides, how old are you to call me a kid? I may be short, but I'm sixteen, you know? We are probably of similar age, give or take a year or two.."

Alright. This is it. Fuck the principles. I'm skinning this kid alive—

Without notice, my hand shoots toward her hand.

I'll just settle with an arm this time.

No-no, maybe a finger. Yeah, cutting a finger seems a reasonable enough punishment.

I end up plucking a strand of her amber hair, and immediately chewing on it.

"Ouch!" she hitches in pain, her body shuddering. "You serious?!"

I have no idea, girly. This is the best self-restraint I've managed so far.

All I know is that you truly are a one-of-a-kind moron.

I mistook you for a smart kid, but no, you are just suicidal.

She really wants to nominate herself as a sacrificial lamb.

She really wants me to eliminate her from this life.

But I'm going to give her one more chance.

"I've lived exactly thrice as long as you have," I tell her. "So yes, you are a kid, and you should call me uncle."

"Uncle?" She sneers and squints, finding what I said ridiculous. "Bah… Then you call me a princess, yes!?"

I smile. "Of course, Princess Marisella!"

Her body shudders once more.

"Umm… No, nevermind… Just call me Mari…"

"I wouldn't dare, Prin-cess, Ma-ri-sel-la!" I bow with a hand clasped on my chest like a servant would.

Hahaha! How great it feels to bully children! Did I, perchance, develop sadistic tendencies, too? Just look at her disgusted expression!

"You… you're a creep, aren't you?" she whispers.

Two out of three women I've met have called me a creep.

The one who didn't call me a creep was a creep herself.

So what does that make of me?

Well, the two who called me a creep are kids.

So, that doesn't really count.

Which means I'm perfectly fine!

"Just continue with the tale."

 

[C. W. Miraj]

The Third Thresher didn't stand a chance against the other two in smarts or power.

Yet the third had no bottom line, nothing to protect and nothing to lose.

And it is a known fact that it is easier to destroy than to protect.

So the third did. The third turned hope into despair.

Trillions wailed, billions shrilled, more vanished.

The universe stood on end, about to perish.

Barely any life remained incorrupt.

Yet the creators withstood the destructor by combined force.

The two Threshers sacrificed themselves to eternally seal the third.

With the end of the three, came a new era. Eleven Pillars came to be.

Gray, The Pillar of Life, traversed the universe, settling on a rogue planet known as Nova.

She was mesmerized by its beauty, so much so that she envisioned life on it.

As she felt lonely.

As it'd be such a pity to hoard such beauty to her and herself alone.

Gray wanted to have children, and share the beauty of wonder and wander with them. Gray wanted listeners. She wanted listeners, and those listeners in turn would share the epics with the future generations.

Determined, she extended her hand to the skies. Roaring loudly,

"Let there be frost!"

The skies roared in turn. Storms gathered, the air chilled, and the clouds dusted.

The first goblin came to be.

Winter came.

Gray nodded, smiling coldly at her first child.

"Your name shall be Neptune!"

Neptune bowed deeply.

"I, Winter, The God of Storm and Conquest, shall carry the name Allmother has bestowed upon me!"

"Neptune! That's my name!"

Gray watched her right hand as it crumbled.

She sighed, gazing at the skies with her right eye. Whistling firmly,

"Let there be bloom!"

The skies whistled in turn. Auroras spread, the air warmed, and the trees blossomed.

The first angel came to be.

Spring came.

Gray nodded, smiling balmy at her second child.

"Your name shall be Mercury!"

Mercury bowed lightly.

"I, Spring, The God of Growth and Cognition, shall carry the name Allmother has bestowed upon me,"

"Mercury, that's my name,"

Gray blinked as the vision in her right eye vanished.

Determined, she extended her left hand to the skies. Shouting joyfully,

"Let there be warmth!"

The skies joyed in turn. Fruits sprouted, the air softened, and the animals sang.

The first beaster came to be.

Summer came.

Gray nodded, smiling brightly at her third child.

"Your name shall be Juno!"

Juno bowed repeatedly.

"I, Summer, The Goddess of Love and Commerce, shall carry the name Allmother has bestowed upon me—"

"Juno— That's my name~"

Gray watched her left hand as it crumbled.

She sighed, gazing at the skies with her left eye. Crying wistfully,

"Let there be rain!"

The skies cried in turn. Winds fluctuated, the air freshened, and the leaves fell.

The first elf came to be.

Autumn came.

Gray nodded, smiling longingly at her fourth child.

"Your name shall be Urania!"

Urania bowed reluctantly.

"I, Autumn, The Goddess of Freedom and Change, shall carry the name Allmother has bestowed upon me…"

"Urania. That's my name."

Gray blinked as the vision in her left eye vanished.

"Children, you are my arms and my eyes!"

"You have a sacred mission to fulfill!"

"And when the dark ages come,"

"I shall return to the lands as a mortal!"

Gray shot up to the skies, her body radiating.

A bright, orange star formed high above.

It exuded warmth, mana, life. The sun.

Her voice traversed the lands of Nova.

"Gray, The Pillar of Life!"

"The Keeper of Truth!"

"Primordial Seeker!"

"Mir! That's my name!"

"Those who wish to obtain eternal life and enter The Kingdom of Heaven shall bear my name!

"They shall worship me! Swear allegiance to my children—"

"Neptune, Winter, The God of Storm and Conquest
Mercury, Spring, The God of Growth and Cognition
Juno, Summer, The Goddess of Love and Commerce
Urania, Autumn, The Goddess of Freedom and Change"

"Those ungrateful ones who don't pray—"

"They shall burn in hell in eternal torment! In eternal damnation!"

***

"The fuck?!" I raise a hand, pointing above. "Who would put their faith in such a deity? She's threatening to burn you all in a hellfire!"

"You won't let me finish first, will you…" Mira mutters, burying her face in her hand. "Allmother gave life to all, so it only makes sense that she decides what to do with it, no?"

"Ahh, I see…" I wave, tilting my head. "Afterlife, after all, is the sweetest of promises. A foundation of every cult. The shitheads will hang themselves on a cross for a granule of hope if push comes to shove."

"Hope is the cruelest of things and the damndest dream." I run a hand through my dark hair, toying with the few scarlet strands and adjusting my supermagical supersexy hat.

"What about you, Princess? Do you believe in gods? Because if you do, you better not hang out with a demon."

I joke halfheartedly, yet she stills, in deep contemplation.

"It doesn't matter," she babbles.

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"Whether there is a god or gods or not, I don't intend to bow before such beings." Mira smiles lightly, glancing sideways, toying with her hair.

Ho… Would you look at that? "Why so?"

"Because we are no better than demons."

She locks her eyes with mine. Her lips tighten, while them, her eyes, pierce.

Wrath. I can see her wrath.

"Children starve to death while dregs who do nothing have everything."

Mira raises her right palm, glancing at it.

"Some are born as slaves, their lives meaningless from the beginning, their existence merely a charm to the eye of a beholder.

Then she raises her left palm, gazing at it.

"Others are born as nobles, predestined to shine brighter than the stars despite the lack of qualities to be one."

She tightens her hands into fists, her knuckles whitening.

"If there truly are gods, then they didn't inherit the eyes of Allmother as they seem to be blind, and they didn't inherit her arms as they seem to remain inactive, uncaring."

Sixteen? Wow. She's wiser than I am in my forties.

What was I when I was sixteen again? What did I do besides swallowing condoms again?

"You mentioned goblins, angels, beasters, and elves. What an assortment of races. But what about humans and demons?" I ask, tilting my head and mimicking her by crossing my arms. "Or is there even more? Fucki— meeting a mermaid has always been a long dream of mine."

"Each race has three species," she says, raising three fingers. "As for humans…"

"There are dark angels, light angels, and fallen angels. Most refer to fallen angels as humans. What separates us from other angels is mostly the birth rate, the short span of life, and the lack of wings," she mentions, lowering her fingers one by one.

"Umm… regarding demons…" Mira licks her finger, lightly biting on it. "I'll get to that, if you don't interrupt me…"

I point to Gunter, whose corpse lies with dead fish eyes a few steps away from us. "What species is he? Do all the goblins look this fucking scary?

"Have you seen a shark?" I ask. "I always thought the fuckers look scary, especially when they smile. But this guy beats them in that regard, and he's not even smiling!"

"You serious…?" She asks, raising a brow. "You really have the audacity to ask that… After killing the poor guy… I only met them for a week and we barely talked, so it's not like I have a mortal grudge against you… but showing disrespect to the dead is the lowest one can get. Besides, have you ever seen a cute corpse?"

"I don't think you'll look scary after I kill you," I tell her, smiling. Ahh, the urges. Maybe I'll calm down if I punch her once. Not twice. Just once.

Unbeknownst to me, my hand moves.

I strike.

Plucking a few of the strands of her hair and immediately tearing them apart.

"Ouch!" Mira shudders, her lips downing and quivering in anger. "Why hair?! You realize how painful that is!? Don't do that!"

Still better than body parts, organs, and skin.

"Move on," I say, waving.

She puffs her cheeks, a sole tear trickling down her eyes.

Ha, sometimes I forget I'm talking to a kid.

"Here, here." I pat her head. "Is the pain gone, Princess? Do you need a healing kiss on your temple?"

I slap her. On the right.

Wait, why did I slap her?

Then again. On the left.

Hahaha, it feels so good!

Then more—

She grabs my hand, her face seething like a kettle.

"Haha… I didn't mean to slap twice, only once—"

"Just shut up!" She breathes, in and out, tears welling. "Shut up and let me talk!"

Her face red, she crosses her arms, looking at me like I'm a piece of shit.

Well, why did I slap her, indeed? I should've just punched. Bet she wouldn't make such a face.

"Look," I force myself to say. "I'm sorry. I really am. But…"

"But?" she asks, her expression soothing.

"I really doubt this is gonna be the first and only time…"

Mira blinks blankly, looking at me like I'm not worth being a piece of shit.

"Just move on." Before I slam that annoying face of yours.

 

[C. W. Miraj]

"No! I'm not just going to move on! Who do you think you are, ordering me around like that?!"

I can just beat the living shit out of you and interrogate you, young lady.

I am an Archdemon, after all. A reincarnated evil incarnate.

Kid. Who do you think you are?

"Princess Mira, please forgive this humble uncle of yours."

Mira tilts her head to the side, hmphing and crossing her arms like a dejected camel.

I can just relaunch that goblin's head at you, young lady. This time not as a boulder, but bolder as a fucking torpedo that will wreck you from the inside out.

I am a fucking Archdemon, after all. A being who's supposed to enjoy beating women and eats children.

"You can't even spell my name correctly! It's Ma—ri! Mari! Marisella! Not Mira! Who the heck is Mira?!"

Fucking children. Fucking kid. What lets you think you can behave like that before me? I call you whatever the fuck I want whenever, wherever.

"Princess Mari~ I'm really, really, really— sorry!"

"You what? How sincere. I almost believed you. Maybe if you say it one more time—"

I grab her shoulders, forcing her to look at me, piercing holes through her with my eyes.

"I SAID I'm fucKING SORRY!"

"I-I-I forgi-i-ve yo-you!"

"APOLOGIZE!"

"I-I sorry– me— I'm sowwy- so!"

Good. As the old saying goes, if violence doesn't work, use more violence and it'll work— or something like that.

I let her off, patiently waiting before my patience runs dry.

"So? Why are you staring at me like that? Do you envy my impeccable outfit?"

"Umm… That's mine—"

"I knew it. You want my hat, Princess Miamor? That's a no-no. This hat is a trophy I won after a grueling match."

She massages her eyes, on the brink of collapse, her face on the precipice of constipation.

"Let's make rule number two… You don't call me a princess, call me Mari, and don't physically harass me."

"That's three fucking rules."

"Okay! You don't physically and mentally harass me, okay?"

"That's still two you fucking idiot."

"Aghhhhhh!"

She grabs onto her ears, shaking and watching the ceiling with desperate eyes.

Girl, you just dissed the gods minutes ago. Don't seek help from above. What, do you think they'll just forgive you like I did? They're no demons. And you're no Mary Sue.

"Just don't harass me!"

That's too tall of an order. Not harass her? Where's the fun in all that?

"I refuse," I say.

She's like an anti-stress. Whenever I'm feeling like shit, I make her feel like shit, and I don't feel like shit anymore.

"Then I'll call you aunty!" she shouts at me, pointing at me like a smartass as if she's just found a cure for cancer.

"Aunty Chan!"

"My-my," I smile brightly, adapting a feminine voice. "How wonderful! I've never been called that before!"

She looks at me like a zombie.

"Were you a woman in your past life…?" she asks, petrified. "Never mind. If you don't respect me—I'm not going to talk!"

She crosses her arms, raising her chin to the left with an expression a disappointed aunty would make.

"I respect you," I tell her. "Is that it? Will you stop whining and become more productive now? Why didn't you tell me this from the beginning."

Mari gapes, her lips twitching. "Not by words, but by actions! Don't behave like a stray dog! If you call me a princess, then treat me with half the respect a princess gets!"

No, no way. That's too, too tall of an order. Wait.

"I'm deeply sorry, Mademoiselle. Please forgive my impudence."

I bend on my knee, grab her hand, kiss it, then caress it like a prince.

I look at her miserably. "How can I atone for my sins…"

Her eyes well in discomfort, her chin swinging left and right.

"Can you behave like an adult?" the kid asks after a long pause. "Please, Uncle."

Suddenly I feel like I'm the immature one.

Good. My acting played well, it paid off.

She's finally calmed down.

She's not uncomfortable before me anymore.

I'd rather the kid see me as an idiot than a threat.

I smile at her like a stupid donkey, backing away.

I do respect her. I truly do. But a kid is a kid, easy to lie to, easy to control, easy to persuade.

She has ambitions, and she has a spirit, but at the end of the day, she lacks experience.

Mari, one day you'll become a queen. A star deserving of your name. A real princess. But every queen has to first serve as a pawn. For now, you're just Mira.

"Okay, okay!" I shout, making a reluctant expression. "I won't harass you!"

"You what?" Her sapphire eyes sparkle. "Really?"

I nod.

Of course that's a fucking lie. At the end of the day, I'm still a fucking imbecile.

I may have been acting. But I was also not acting.

This is the art of self-sabotage. Self-manipulation. If you want to deceive others, deceive yourself first. If you want to persuade others, persuade yourself first and foremost.

"Okay… then. But remember, you promised, yes!?"

"Yes, yes," I yess.

"Can you imagine 'status'? A window should pop up in your head," Mari insists.

Pop up? Pop up head? Yeah, that I can do. But I don't think she thinks what I think.

Window. Window? Hey, window!

"Nothing comes up," I tell her.

Mari pinches the bridge of her nose while exhaling through it. "Here,"

A transparent gray hologram forms over her extended palm.

Marisella |Wizard |F+||

Mana |F+|
Aura |F|
Wise |F+|
Life |F|

Gifts:
—Heal |F+|

Title:
—Apprentice |F+|

"Holy shit," I express my shock in the best way I can, gazing at the neon gray hieroglyphs that form. "What's up with this?"

I force my finger onto the panel, yet it only moves through the screen as if the panel doesn't even exist.

"This is the status window," she states.

"Fuck is the status window?" me states.

She sighs like a broken turbine, tilting her head backward. "Let's start from the beginning. At the top is my name, and beside it is my class. I'm a wizard."

"Aha, aha," I insist she continues.

"All angels are wizards. We don't really get to choose a class," she says.

"Followingly, goblins are warriors, beasters are warlocks, and elves are wanderers."

Great. New words. Can life not be simple?

I look at her with a face that assures I'm stupid and need an explanation—

"Wizards throw fire! Water! Bullets! Pew pew!" She makes a pistol gesture with her fingers.

"Warriors swing swords! Clutch-clutch! Swing swing!" she makes stupid sounds while making an 'X' with her fingers.

—Not that fucking stupid!

"Warlocks summon spirits! Large and mythical! Chao chao!"

The fuck is chao chao supposed to mean? She just came up with the word, didn't she?!

"Bao! Bao!" She raises her hands like paws and imitates a bear.

"Wanderers use runes! Crafts and wards! Blessings and curses! Scary—very!"

I look at her with genuine incredulity. What was that?

Forget about the bright future. A queen? No.

She's at most becoming a horse that neiggghhhhs.

"Neiggghhhh!" she neigggghhhs.

Oh my gosh! I can see the future!

"I guess it really works," she says like she discovered an unknown secret.

"What?" I ask.

"When I explain normally, you usually interrupt me. So I decided to take a different approach. You were right in your remark; I mistook you for a human. But you're not."
I gape.

Mari smiles in a way some Saintess Maria would. "I apologize. I'm sorry. It's fine. You'll be fine."

She pats my head.

"From now on, I'll treat you appropriately."

Her smile deepens, radiating holy light.

Okay, bitch. That's it. You're fucking dying. I don't care—

"Nowww onto the attributes! They're super-duper awesome! They're four of them! Mana! Aura! Wise! Life!" Mari rotates her hands, wagging her fingers. "Very cool! Very fun!"

Oh? Attributes? Sounds fun indeed…

"Mana is for majjjjic! Magic—good! Mana—good! More mana, more magic!"

That makes perfect sense.

"Aura! You strong! Strong—good! Aura—good! More aura, more—" Mari swings her arm, flexing her nonexistent muscles. "Coooool!"

That wasn't cool at all. I guess she has her aura in the negatives.

Very informative. Please continue.

"Wise—smart! Smart—not stupid! Not stupid—not you!" She points at me as if revealing the secrets of the underworld.

Oh, she says I'm not stupid? Well, of course. Why would I be stupid? Wait.

"Life—live! Cultivate life—live long—soul strong! Live healthy! Life bery beautiful!" She waves her hands dramatically.

I punch her in the face. Her nose cracks as she falls back, the floor fixing her head.

Dear Goddess of Life, please forgive this humble follower of yours who's strayed from her path.

Unfortunately, I cannot.

But the Goddess will forgive. Hopefully.

My task is to arrange their meeting.

 

[C. W. Miraj]

The horse whips into action. "You! You…"

She wipes the blood off her nose with the sleeve of her tunic and swipes her eyes across me.

"You promised not to kill me! You promised not to harass me!"

"You are a terrible liar, no? Yet you ask me not to lie?! What a hypocrite!"

I may be a strong demon, but I doubt even some hypothetical Demon King has enough energy to bicker with a girl in her teenage years.

"I…" I whisper with hatred. With hatred toward myself.

"I'm… sorry…" I say, but in my heart, third heart, I'm becoming less and less sorry, sorry just for the sake of being sorry. "I didn't kill you, for one."

"As for the second promise, it's not established yet. I've promised not to harass you, but that's my part of the deal. I still haven't said what's required of you."

This is quite a pathetic sight, isn't it? I can't control my body, or the words that come off my mouth, or even my thoughts, for that matter.

Mira— no, Mari, looks at me with a staggered expression. She sighs, bringing her hands up and infusing them in blue glows.

Heal |F+|

I laugh emptily. "Seems to me you've lied. Who was it, saying that they have no mana? A sly little fox."

"I didn't lie…" she bickers. "Healing doesn't require much mana, since it's a gift of mine."

"Look,"

Marisella |Wizard |F+||

Mana |F+|
Aura |F|
Wise |F+|
Life |F|

Gifts:
—Heal |F+|

Title:
—Apprentice |F+|

"I've acquired Heal after consuming a skillbook," she says tiredly, licking the blood flowing down her nose all the same. "My father was a merchant. Long story short, he was beheaded for disrespecting a noble. My mother followed soon after."

How is that of any relevance? Shit is sad and all, but do I look like I give a fuck?

"I took whatever assets were left, and escaped to the corners of the empire. I spent everything I had and bought the said skillbook and a basic grimoire, bribing a corrupt official from the magic tower for a membership," Mari says, pointing toward the book in the far corner. "The grimoire has many more skills, yet although of low rank, they demand high mana."

"Why join the magic tower?" I ask, brushing my chin thinkingly.

"To receive the Apprentice title," she says, standing and closing in on me. "Take a look at this,"

Apprentice |F+|

+10% Mana Efficiency

"It may not seem a lot, but it is a lot," she insists, massaging her nose. "But even without it, just having the membership gives you a backing, irregardless of what skills you truly possess. You become a full-fledged wizard, not just a nobody with a class."

Oh, so it's like a university degree? Even if one's a moron, as long as they have the paper, people regard their dumbass like a scholar.

"When I first escaped the capital, I wanted revenge, I wanted blood," she tells sternly, raising a hand halfly, then forming a fist. "Yet corrupted aren't the nobles only, corrupted is human nature as a whole. Let me ask you this,"

"What do you think humanity is?"

Girl, I'm a demon. How the fuck am I supposed to know?

"Humanity is not just about moral righteousness and upholding ethical standards. People generally see values such as honesty, altruism, and compassion as cornerstones of what it means to be human. That perspective is too limiting and shallow," she immediately follows.

"The belief in moral righteousness often serves as a facade where the weak justify their actions through moral reasoning while ignoring or straight up downplaying the selfish motives that they themselves oftentimes are unaware of."

"Those selfish motives, in turn, are the other side of the coin. It is humanity also."

That's some twisted logic right there. She's as bad as a demon.

"Philanthropy is motivated by a desire for social recognition. Political decisions are influenced by personal ambition, whereas establishments engage in socially responsible activities to enhance reputation." Mari walks in circles, her head hung low.

"It's all about benefits—increasing profits, avoiding regulatory penalties, reducing tax liabilities, or establishing a positive public image. No matter the era, the strong have always controlled the weak. Sometimes, they use swords predominantly, and other times, they opt for words. Oftentimes, both, but with the right balance. It's too easy to gain the adoration and admiration of the weak hearts," she finishes, looking at me with curious eyes.

I smile. Youth is good. So many ambitions. So much inspiration. But what bullshit. Like a teenager who just read Nietzsche and thinks she's cracked the code of existence.

Similar to how you control the weak by appealing to their beliefs, you control the strong by appealing to their set of longings, too. Whether it's money, prestige, lofty goals, or health, they are all driven by something. They are no different from the weak.

In actuality, all people are weak-minded and weak-spirited, if we go by that logic.

You simply cannot distinguish the weak from the strong then.

Everybody has to rely on something to add meaning to their existence.

But well, I was never a fan of such discussions, so I'll let her think what she wants. Maybe she'll reach a different conclusion. Maybe she'll prove me wrong.

"So what's the plan? What's the point? I'm truly amazed, Princess Mari. But I fail to grasp your profound wisdom. I fear I'm too stupid to ponder about such deep matters, so I don't get the point," I tell her, lefting and righting my head. "My life philosophy is to eat, shit, sleep. Sometimes I eat while shitting too, just for the change of the atmosphere, it does smell shitty though, though it's fine once you get used to sleeping where you shit."

She gapes, her eyes twitching.

I guess she cannot fathom my truly deeply profound wisdom either. Well, me too. I can't fathom my excellence myself; that's just how exceptional I am.

Mari coughs, adjusting her posture and regaining her composure. "The current system fosters selfishness. We peasants hate nobles, while nobles hate us. Yet neither are at fault."

She clenches her fist.

"I want to crush this madness!"

"And you—" The moron points at me. "You help me!"

The fuck? I'm not starting any revolutions anytime soon. Fuck that shit!

The peasants can starve to death and the nobles can eat to their deaths for all I care!

"Why would I help you…?" I ask, barely refraining from frowning.

"Because that's the right thing to do!" she shouts heroically, pressing the left of her chest with her heart. "Because you have a heart!"

Oh hell nah. Just when I'm about to voice the demons inside of me, she interjects.

"Not now. I know you're uncertain. That's fine," she says, turning in a semi-circle and walking with hands clasped behind her like some wise elder who's seen the worst of life. "But deep inside, you're a good person! I know it. You'll come to understand."

Mari stops, turning to me and pointing at herself. "I will help you develop the dungeon. I will never lie to you, ever."

She then points at me. "You, in turn, in addition to not spontaneously killing me, must never betray yourself!"

She points to too high above, shouting, "Finally—"

"I will help you obtain power at the cost of my life!"

"That's the three promises!"

Power? Well, I do need power to better understand myself, and defend against whatever the world has to throw at me.

Most importantly, to murder the fuckers who threw me here.

"So, what's the third thing you ask of me?" I ask.

"None! I'll help you obtain power, and you can do whatever you want with it!" Mari smiles, stamping the floor like a warrior, which looks ridiculous, funny, almost, considering her frail stature.

"Hahahaha!" I break into laughs.

"What's funny?!" she asks with the most serious face a sixteen-year-old can make. "Why are you laughing?!"

I slowly stand, beating the dust off the robe. "No more bullshit, huh. Well…"

"I quite like you," I say, extending my hand. "So let's make it fair. Three promises from you, three promises from me. Since you're waging your life, I'll do the same."

"I'll protect you at the cost of my life, Princess. Whatever crazy endeavor you'll partake in."

Attachment is a scary thing indeed. To think that a few moments ago, I could kill this kid and forget the day after.

What did I find in this kid? I'm not sure. What I'm sure is, is that I'm royally fucked with this promise. Because I mean it.

She staggers backward, bewildered, yet the very next moment, she smiles, and her smile shines brilliantly.

Mari clutches my hand and shakes it up and down.

"Haha! To think that I'd get a Great Demon as my lapdog!"

Surprisingly, I'm not even angry. She indeed got me good. These are the type of life decisions you get to regret as you get old, but I'm old as fuck, so I already regret it.

"Huh?" She looks up at me. "You're not fuming? I thought you'd scream like usual."
"Kid, I'm not stupid," I say smilingly, clenching her hand with slight force.

She hitches in pain.

"I know you were provoking me, always," I tell her, piercing her with my eyes. "Don't do that."

"And you were always acting, and I didn't like it," she says, smiling through pain. "People reveal their true colors when they are emotional, you see. You only see me as a kid. You've underestimated me, Uncle."

I nod, expressionless. "You're right. You've played me like a child. I can't help but admire the qualities, Princess. Most of all, the potential. You can see right through me, yet I can't begin to fathom you."

I let go of her, turning and walking toward the core. "Don't make me regret my choices."

She walks beside me. "You've seen my status; now we need to see yours. Your strength."

I turn my head to her, gazing at her.

"Regret?!" she scoffs, meeting my eyes with a wide, venomous smile.

"Just as I've said, I'll help you attain power. You do whatever you want with it. If you see me fit dead, you kill me. Destroy the world if you want! Who am I to say you do this or you do that? Who am I but a nobody?"

 

[C. W. Miraj]

I snap.

I flick my fingers in a snap. Status.

A holographic blue window with neon hieroglyphs appears before me.

Chandra |Archdemon |SS||

Murk |E|
Aura |E|
Wise |E|
Luck |F|*

Gifts:
—The Devil's Wrath |E|*
—The Hero's Curse |A|
—Reverse Plot Armor |S|
—...
—...
—...
—...
—...

Title:
—Villain |F|
—...
—...
—...

I cease to hear her steps, and so I turn around and glance at her.

The confident expression she had, has crumbled, replaced by a shattered face. Like broken glass.

"You—you—" she musters, muttering, her voice breaking, then suddenly shooting up.

"You Archdemon?!?"

Her shout echoes. Then shaking. Stilling. "What kind of evil have you committed in your past life…? What kind of abomination are you!?"

I wonder. I did bad things. That I remember.

Killing and smuggling and selling people. That, I remember.

From stealing to extortion, crime after crime.

How did I feel about doing bad things?

What other atrocities have I committed?

I have to move on. I'm already in hell anyway.

So I shrug.

"I'm guilty of participating in and acing a cursed survey if anything," I say, pointing at the screen.

"Is there something wrong with it?"

Mari, in turn, points at me, resolutely. "Everything! I knew you're a Great Demon, but this… This changes everything!"

"How so?" I ask. Tilting my head. "Can you—"

"What Sin are you?" she asks, her eyes expectant. "Tell me! Now!"

What's gotten into her? There is fear inscribed on her face, a newfound dread, yet, at the same time, the fear is not because of, say, finding a bear in a forest but rather winning a lottery and attempting to hide from taxes.

"You ask the obvious, Princess." I look at her smilingly, frowning slightly.

Her finger stiffs, her expression twitching. "Don't tell me…"

"Wrath?"

"Wrath."

"Wrath?!"

"Wrath!"

"No wonder!" Mari clasps her ears, looking for the answers, looking above.

I flick her forehead. "Why are you so disappointed?"

She backs away, itching the newly formed red mark, glaring at me angrily. "Wrath Sin is always the first to die! Always!"

Okay, I'm getting annoyed. If she doesn't stop talking in circles, I may circle her neck—

"Can't be helped," she whispers, lowering her head and continuing to walk.

I follow. We stop before the crimson orb.

"Let me tell you about the Great Demons first, then," she says, her sapphire eyes reflecting the reds and the sparkles of the orb.

I nod calmly, watching her carefully in case she has some trick up her sleeve.

We're standing before my lifeline, after all. No orb—and I'm dead.

"You might have an idea of what the letters before the attributes, gifts, and titles are, yes?" she asks, toying with her amber hair.

"A grading system, right?" I guess, raising a clawed finger.

"Precisely," she says noddingly. "Each grade is fifty percent, or, two times better than the previous one. If an F-rank adventurer lands a punch with a force of five, per se, then they'd land a ten were they to be an E-rank."

"But that's not all," she states. "In actuality, an E-rank would also land the punch two times faster, so it'd produce an output much more than merely a ten, yes?"

"F, E, D, C, B, A, S, SS, SSS," she counts on her fingers. "That's all the ranks."

I laugh emptily. "Then doesn't that mean I'm meant to be…" I do the math. Two by two by two by two by…

"One hundred twenty-eight times stronger than you are?"

She claps, amazed. "Wow, how did you solve that? Pretty impressive,"

I brush my nose. Of course. I always knew I had a knack for science and stuff—

"For you," she finishes.

I turn my head to her, my eyes wide yet focused, piercing. "Why are you still provoking me?" My tongue darts out to wet my lips.

"Umm… my bad," she says, waving her hand up and down dismissively. "But I didn't say it to provoke you, I'm truly impressed, is all."

That only makes it worse!

"You only have the power of E-rank because you're a Great Demon," she switches the topic once again and moves her eyes across me, blankly, yet boldly. "There are three races of the Great Demons."

"Races?" I prompt her to explain, raising a brow.

"While we, people, have classes, the demons have races," she states, biting on her pinky. "You saw that next to your name, Chandra—"

"I'm Chan. Uncle Chan," I interject, raising a hand in interruption.

An annoyed smirk tugs at her lips. "That's among the weirdest names I've heard. But, whatever, I guess. You do you, Uncle… Chan. That gives Japanese vibes."

What's so bad about my name?

"Your name is the weird one, Marisella. Did your parents want to marry you into aristocracy or something?"

She stammers, her lips pulling back in a humorless smile. "You a real petty person, no? Do you have no decency at all? No dignity at all?"

No.

"Anyhow," she mutters, barely holding onto her pettiness, fearing to make a comeback, fearing I'll pop her head if she says what's in her mind.

I will. No doubt.

She raises three fingers. "For Great Demons, there is a Dungeon Master race, of A-rank. A Demon Lord race of S-rank. Finally, you, an Archdemon. SS rank.

"You all basically have the same roles, looking after a dungeon, building armies of monsters, and wreaking havoc for resources to expand."

"Monsters?" I prompt her to explain once more.

She sighs, bringing her hand up to her eyes, massaging. "Monsters are the same as demons, except they lack intelligence. Basically, they're like yo—"

Mari flinches, looking up at me.

"What was it? Why did you not finish?" I ask, smiling brilliantly.

Try me, bitch. Just finish what you were to say. I dare you.

She coughs awkwardly, puffing her flat chest and beating at it. "As for strength, the Great Demons all start from zero, their strength rising with the level of their dungeon."

"So, the stronger this crimson orb gets," she points at the orb, "the stronger you get," then she gestures toward me.

"You don't have to chew down your explanations to me like I'm some kindergartener," I tell her, my eyes closed and smiling.

"Onto the attributes!" she declares.

Does she think that whenever she gets in trouble she can just divert the discussion?

She's damn right.

"Demons and monsters don't have souls, so there are no mana and life attributes. Instead, demons use murk to cast magic. We call it black magic." Mari thrusts a finger at my chest, where my third heart lies. Or was it fourth? No, still the third.

"The soul lies here, in one's heart."

"What's the difference between murk and mana?" I stack one hand over the other and lift it to my chin. "What sets black magic apart from magic?"

"While we have souls, you, demons, have essence. To put it bluntly, essence is a primitive form of a soul. Instead of formulaic magic, what you demons use is raw magic," she explains, forming a blue glow in her hand.

"You see this? It's a pure form of my mana. It detracts a certain amount of particles from the air, and won't work unless the said requirements are met. Particularly, aqua, or well, water particles. The raw magic, or, well, the black magic, on the other hand, works differently. Murk doesn't attract particles to work, instead, it exhausts one's essence to transform the particles in the air."

Yeah, awesome. I don't understand shit.

"You don't get it, do you?" she asks, looking at me with a dubious expression.

"Of course I do!" I lie shamelessly, smiling with shining teeth.

She sighs theatrically, slumping forward, shaking her head. "Soul is like a magnet. It attracts particles. Essence is like fuel. It transforms particles. Just like how fire from coal doesn't pull in steel, instead, tempers and reshapes it into a blade."

I nod repeatedly. That makes much more sense.

No. I still don't understand shit. But whatever. It probably does make sense, just not for me.

I am the type who learns based on examples, not boring and lengthy explanations. That's some nerdy shit right there.

"Now onto the life attribute," she continues, snapping her fingers to scatter the clouds shrouding my mind. "All people cultivate life. They absorb monster cores to improve on their life attribute. Basically, they devour other's lives to enhance theirs. Monsters, on the other hand, cultivate various things. For you, it's luck. You are a luck cultivator."

Ahh, is it not over yet? I feel like my brain is gonna explode.

"This is your core, by the way." Mari extends her finger toward the orb. "Monsters and demons alike usually have cores in their hearts, the Great Demons yet have dungeon cores as their cores. This is where your essence lies."

"But…" She fidgets her finger around, circling her hair. "What's up with your luck attribute? It's weird. All your attributes are E-rank, except luck. It's very weird."

"Ah, about that…" I whisper.

I'm suddenly reminded of the rainbowhead's smug expression. His condescending sunny eyes and his clever face.

If the pimp guy doesn't find and fuck him, I'll personally arrange them a night.

I clench my fists. "My luck is fucked."

I show her my 'gifts'.

The Hero's Curse |A|

Damage against the players with |Hero| Title -50%

Reverse Plot Armor |S|

Luck Attribute -50%
Experience Gain -90%
Divinity Resistance -90%

More like curses.

Mari gapes, her lips shaking.

"Wha…"

"What kind of cursed luck is this?!"

 

[C. W. Miraj]

"This is unthinkable!" She brings her hand up her forehead, ahhing theatrically. "Do you even realize what this means?!"

What a drama queen.

Do I realize, she asks? Of course I do.

I'm full well aware that I'm fucked in every way. I don't know what that everyway is, though.

"You have one of your four primary attributes crippled! Fifty percent! That basically means that if you were to have C-rank luck without the gift, now you'd have D-rank, and if you were to have S-rank—an A-rank! From here on out, you'll always have your luck one rank lower!" Mari shoots me a barrage of useless nagging, shouting, her saliva falling all over my impeccable, beautifully handsome robe.

What a fucking bitch.

I push her away. "Who cares? I presume other Archdemons got the same two gifts too."

Mari stammers, flapping her hands like a newborn bird, one leg waving and the other holding on to the ground.

She barely refrains from falling. Regaining her balance, she shoots me a glance an underpaid prostitute would make.

"That's different! Luck is your primary cultivation path!"

Cultivation this, cultivation that. I keep hearing it.

"What's the deal about cultivation?" I ask, adjusting my supersexy hat.

The three horns I have are a real annoyance. At least they're almost horizontal.

If they were to be vertical, I'd have to cut my horns so that I could wear my dear hat.

"I already explained it, no?!" Mari scratches her head, biting her lip. "Mana, Aura, Wise, Life. Aura and wise work the same for both people and demons."

"Mana, I've explained," she says. "Also, the higher your mana attribute, the bigger reservoir of mana you have. For you, Murk, to be exact."

"Aura is what you coat your body with to strengthen it, to pierce through the rocks with your palm and cut through the trees with your fingers," Mari explains, punching through the air. If there were to be a boxing machine, she'd score a hundred. Out of a thousand.

"Wise is to better connect with the elementals, or well, particles. Not only does it help to regenerate your mana faster, but also better establish a connection with the spirits," Mari states, stepping right and left and left and right to warm herself from the cold and humid air. "Basically, to better connect with the world as a whole. To become one with it."

"Finally!" She thrusts a finger through the light fog. "The fourth attribute is what you cultivate! For us, people, it's life. For demons, it varies, as I've already told a million times!"

"For you!" Mari approaches, fingering my chest, back and forth. "It's luck! In your case, the lack thereof!"

I grab her hand, pressing it so hard that the crack of her bones resounds.

"L-l-l—" she whispers in a broken voice, flinching, shaking and tilting her head. "Let go! Let go! Let—"

I let go.

She lets out a sigh.

Stupid fucking children.

"I asked you a simple question," I tell her in an asking manner.

"What is cultivation? You said that to cultivate, one needs to absorb cores, but what is cultivation exactly, to begin with?" I ask, relaxing my eyes, askingly.

Mari pats her reddened hand, tears welling in her sapphire, softer than the skies eyes. "You almost broke it…"

"SO?!" I ask her again, asking in a way that tells her if she doesn't answer, I'm not going to ask once more. Just how many times do I have to ask?

"Cultivation?! What is?!" I ASK. I ask. I ask…

Patience. Not again. The more I indulge my anger, the more wrathful I become.

It's like alcohol. Better not to start altogether since, after taking a sip, it becomes much harder to refrain. Any addiction, for that matter, works this way.

Mari shoots me a glare, her naturally downturned eyes downing even further, her brows cursing me.

Yeah. Fuck patience. Fuck this kid. Benevolence may know no bounds. But so does the malevolence—

"Refinement of one's soul, or in your case, essence. Cultivation is about transcending mortal limitations by comprehending the Dao. The core of existence," she says, puffing on her hand. "Besides bloodline, strength defines everything in Nova. If one lacks in their cultivation, they are the weak, at the mercy of the strong."

"There are various elementals inside the core one absorbs to cultivate. We devour their experience. We people cultivate life, so for us, it's life elementals present in it. Then, our attributes improve."

She raises four fingers, lowering them as she counts,

"For wizards, mana and wise."

"For warriors it's aura and life."

"For warlocks then wise and life."

"Finally, for wanderers, mana and aura."

"But that's, again, for us, humans. Demons gain experience, or well, cultivate, differently," she says, her eyes lit. "You have essence, not souls. So you can basically do whatever you want. You're not constrained by formulaic approaches and classes. You choose which attribute to improve by yourselves after absorbing the required elementals."

I nod halfheartedly, pinching my robe. Ahh, the material is so comfy.

What did she say again?

"I envy you, you know?" Mari glances at me with puffed lips. "I always wanted to become a warrior, or someone who fights in close combat, but instead, I was forced to become a wizard just because I was born a human."

Warrior? This girl? No, no way.

I watch her dubiously. Is this how parents who want their child to become a doctor or a lawyer, but their dumbass child chooses to become an actor or a model or a young entrepreneur who sells Viagra on social media for the elderly, feel?

"Why did you choose healing as your skill, then?" I ask her, raising a brow. "That doesn't make any sense if you want to fight."

"You serious?" she ohhs, peeking up at me in the dark. As though I'm a baby who'd usually ask why roses are red and violets are blue, but this time I instead inquired about what cancer is and how people get it.

"Because I could only choose a single skill, and healing seemed the most handy. Plus, I had a bargain on this one, couldn't be helped," she says, pressing her lips between her fingers. "At each rank, you get one additional skill slot, or the way the system calls them, a gift slot. That is why you have eight skill slots."

She points at my status.

Chandra |Archdemon |SS||

Murk |E|
Aura |E|
Wise |E|
Luck |F|*

Gifts:
—The Devil's Wrath |E|*
—The Hero's Curse |A|
—Reverse Plot Armor |S|
—...
—...
—...
—...
—...

Title:
—Villain |F|
—...
—...
—...

"Followingly, you get one additional title slot every two ranks," she explains, raising four fingers once more. "F, D, B, S. That is also the reason why those ranks are considered special. D is proportionally stronger than E, more so than, say, C is stronger than D."

"Are titles really that important?" I ask, chewing on the taste of blood in my gums.

"Of course they are! If gifts are what we call active skills, titles are passive skills. They're always in effect and require no nothing to use!" she nags, waving her finger left and right like a teacher would before a bad student. "But that's the part I don't understand…"

"Your two gifts, The Hero's Curse and Reverse Plot Armor, are more fit to be titles than gifts since they are passive. That's the lucky part, I guess…"

"What's lucky about it?" I prompt her to continue, flicking my fingers.

"Titles are hard to remove. Gifts, on the other hand…" she whispers, lifting a hand up to her chin, thinking. "Still, I've never heard of anyone removing a gift of A-rank, much less S-rank. Though I presume not many had a need to. Gifts are usually a good thing, after all."

Finally, some good news. There is some hope for the future, at least.

"I always wondered how demons end up losing with so much preparation done…" she mutters. "No wonder…"
Now that's interesting.

"Millennium war—I remember you saying something along those lines. Who do I have to fight against, and why? Do you know the reason I was brought to this world in the first place? Fuck, is this place Earth to begin with? You mentioned Latin and Japanese, and we're speaking in English, so I would assume it's related in one way or another," I pose my demands, toying with the scarlet strands of my long hair.

"Earth? That what? Like the ground we stand on?" she asks in confusion, looking at me like I invented the word. "Every thousand years, demons and heroes are chosen. They're called outlanders. Since each time, they come from different worlds. Last time it was Terrarium. I don't know why, and I doubt anyone besides the gods or constellations really knows why."

"Constellations?" I ask, annoyed, frowning.

Why do new words keep popping out of nowhere?

"Each god has three constellations serving them. So, four to three, and we get twelve constellations in total, each corresponding to a month," she does the math in my stead.

"Anyway, back to the matter at hand," she says noddingly, raising a finger. "The war is really long and arduous and has many stages, which are really irrelevant to the present. For now, we're in act zero, and that's all you have to worry about."

Act Zero? I remember this from before I was reincarnated. But there were chapters and phases, no acts.

"That is," she continues, her voice blitzing through the shadowy room. "Before act one, before heroes come, you Archdemons have to compete amongst yourselves for the title of The Demon King."

 

[C. W. Miraj]

"Compete against others…?" I whisper, disdain washing over me.

I have to beat all the Archdemons? That's problematic.

Tricking proper people who have values in life is manageable.

Deceiving lowlifes? Not so much.

What we have here is an assortment of crazy fuckers.
All unpredictable. All homicidal. All deprived of common sense.

Depraved degenerates.

Not me, of course.

"Yes. The competition doesn't only involve strength but also, moreso, management capabilities. You conquer territories and various domains, abrim with resources, and lead your troops. The Great Demon race is more about leadership than individuality. More about warring than fighting. More about creation than destruction. Your troops fight and destroy individually in your stead instead," she catalogs the abilities that I don't have.

"So, basically, business acumen?" I ask, tilting my foot left and right.

Man is the floor fucking cold. Should I snatch her shoes too? They probably won't fit…

"You right," Mari says noddingly. "You can, yes?"

Well, I do have experience. Not building a proper organization but rather a crime syndicate. I wonder if that counts. Not like I remember much of it to begin with.

"I see worry in your face," Mari says, clearly fucking blind. "But no worries, Uncle, I got this. I've been praised for my smarts and have read more books than most people have seen in their lives, be they of historical, philosophical, or purely informative nature."

She points at herself with her thumb, smugly, her round chin raised. "I'm really, really, very smart."

Smart? Smart my ass.

Even my ass is smarter.

Stupid people say they're smart.

Smart people usually remain silent.

While intelligent people say they're stupid.

That's why I'm stupid. Because I'm intelligent.

Wait.

"I'll be your strategist and tactician all the same," she says smartly, circling her finger and smiling, smartly, also. "We will tread cautiously while remaining neutral."

The fuck is the difference between strategy and tactics?

Mari follows, walking around the orb with hands clasped behind her, "Those Archdemons have massive ambitions and won't bow before anyone. By playing to all sides and pitting their egos against each other, we will extract the most benefits!"

So she basically wants to become the Switzerland of the World Wars? Maintain official neutrality while engaging in economic dealings with multiple powers?

Did she just come up with it on a whim? Impressive. In theory.

As in practice…

That'd only work if those shitheads had any principles.

Morals, beliefs… Philosophy in general is a very interesting subject.

They help to tell of the person's ideals and personality.

Of their strengths and weaknesses.

But what about those who couldn't give a flying fuck about morals and beliefs and such?

Usually, not only do such people not give a fuck, but they don't give a fuck why they don't give a fuck.

They do what they want, and they make others do what they want.

"That's a shit strategy," I tell her, flicking her forehead when she circles back to me. "I have a better plan."

She stammers back, itching her forehead.

Mari then looks at me expectantly.

Shit, please don't make that face.

As if I'd have a plan.

But her face…

It looks at me so expectantly…

I can't disappoint!

This is the moment that will certify me as either the Stupid Uncle Chan or the Wise Uncle Chan!

Think! What information have I gathered from the meeting? What can I deduce?

Mysterious church dude. Buffed African dictator. Dead inside edgelord. Shorty tree girl. Pimp cringe lord. My beautiful wifey—

Blonde goth chick.

…

"We'll just murder them all, that simple," I declare, flipping my wrist in a dismissive manner.

She gasps, then gapes, her downturned eyes twitching as her forehead twists into deep furrows.

Her nose bleeds.

I think I phrased it wrongly…

I didn't mean to declare war against all. Just five.

All except my comely love, my lovely everything, my blondie. She'll become The Demon Queen—

Mari staggers, faltering, almost falling, waving her left hand to keep balance while clasping onto her bloodied nose.

She looks miserable.

I hold on to her. "Are you fine?"

Her eyes sway, then roll up as her legs shake, then give up.

"Hey!" I shout, shaking her shivering body. "Answer me! Are you okay?! I know— Heal! Use Heal!"

"Uncle…" she whispers, her breaths shallow, limbs limp, eyes unfocused. "I think… you hit me… too hard… back then… on my face…"

Tears well in her eyes.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What did I do?! What do I do? What should I do? ThinK!

"I'm sorry… Uncle… Chan…" she snobs, her lips quivering. "Please… don't fall to… your sins— Live… kindly…"

Blood falls over her lips, her eyes losing their life, her jaw—dropping, slack.

"Brat! You cannot die! You must not die! What about your dreams and aspirations?! Was one meager punch all it took to devastate you—"

I shake, and shake, and shake. Yet nothing.

"I am sorry! I won't raise a hand on you ever again! Kid! Kid?! Princess! Mari! Marisella! Hey—"

"You will become the greatest strategist surpassing history! I'll make you one! Don't die—"

"...Really?" Her eyes regain minimal luster, her puffy cheeks pale. "You will really… really appoint me as your… strategist? You really…?"
"Yes! I will! Now use that skill of yours damn it! Mari—"

"You will listen to what I say…? You will give up on… the title of The Demon King… for me?"

Shit! The Demon King title is just too cool to pass on! Way better than some Villain |F|. The fuck is Villain |F| even supposed to be? Villain Fucking? A fucking third-rate-Villain? The Demon King title is the least I deserve—

"Yes! Of course! Who cares about a title?! It's just a title! Nothing! It's only what the holographic boxes tell! We'll establish names for ourselves by our own hands, not rely on this stupid fucking box!"

"...Really… …really?"

"Girl! Don't make me repeat myself! Use that damn skill this instant—"

"Yeahhhh!" Mari shouts with joy. "No takebacks! You understand?!"

Huh?

"Uncle is the best~" Mari muses, standing vigorously, hugging me dearly. "With me, even without vying for the title of The Demon King, you'll still have the most power among Archdemons! I promised, no? That I will help you obtain power at the cost of my life! If I fail even once, you can kill me!"

My hands stiffen, eyes blank. My face morphs into expressionlessness.

"You've shown me your other gifts, but what about The Devil's Wrath? Also that Villain title, what does it do?" she asks, her smile thinning as she backs away.

…

"Umm…" Mari blinks repeatedly, stepping back, her back arching. "You okay…?"

…

Mari purses her lips, instinctively waving her hands in stopping. "It—it was just a prank! A prank, yes?! A farce, a sham, a joke! If you punch me again, I'm really gonna die! It's a miracle I didn't break last time—"

I run a hand through my dark hair, the black strands obstructing my vision, some reddish and some brownish in between.

To that, she freaks out. Then sighs in relief.

I sigh.

"Here,"

The Devil's Wrath |E|*

Aura +60%
Sanity -40%

Potential: SS

Oh? How simple. Aura of sixty percent… So was that red glow that my body secreted my aura? And sanity of forty percent… I basically go berserk when I use it, then.

"That's the best E-rank skill I've ever seen…!" Mari approaches, pointing at the aura attribute. "Wrath Sin was always known to be the best at close combat among the Archdemons… no wonder. With a skill like that…"

"Yeah, that's wonderful indeed," I say calmly, "But what's that thing near the rank?"

"You mean the symbol before the rank of your skill?" she asks, her voice quivering. Her hands shake as she awkwardly points at my skill, a fake smile put on her face.

The Devil's Wrath |E|*

"Not before, but next to it," I correct her, lightly flicking her head. "See that star-like thingy? What's that?"

"Ah! That?" Mari stumbles, resting her hand on my shoulder to refrain from falling. "That means that the system doesn't fully understand the gift's effect."

Indeed. Sanity aside, I felt weird when using it. As though I wasn't myself. As though there was another soul controlling my body in my stead. Perhaps the reason why Wrath dies first lies therein…

"This blue box, wasn't it status? It's the second time you call it a system. Why?" I ask, looking down at her, who stands in front of me.

Mari glances up at me, her eyes teary. "Umm…"

"The window is called status, while the mechanism behind it is the system. Imagine a library. The building is the status window, while the books and the materials inside those books are referred to as the system as a whole," she states, blinking rapidly.

I then focus on my sole title.

Villain |F|

—

"It's not showing anything. What does that mean?" I ask, creasing my forehead.

"...I haven't seen anything like this before," she says, righting her head.

Didn't she say she was smart? Where did all the knowledge go?

Not only do I not know what shenanigans my sole semi-useful gift pulls, I don't even know what the title does. Great. Fantastic.

"Hey, Mari," I call her. "Why are you crying?"

Silence befalls.

"Why… Why are you crying?" she asks me the same.

Am I?

Ah.

"I'm sorry…" Mari mutters, pressing her pointy fingers against each other, her head hung low. "I won't do that again…"

"You said I look young, right?" I ask, closing my eyes and brushing the sole tear on my cheek.

"Yes…?" she responds, hiccuping.

There it is. That is the answer.

During the inauguration ceremony, that short girl called me an uncle. Why? I'm sure I had the same body as I have now. Young.

She knows something. She knows me. Otherwise, why would she call someone young an uncle?

I'm not sure about others, but my appearance has completely changed from my previous life.

I didn't have such pale skin, such thin stature, such height, or such long hair.

I'm completely changed.

And the one who cried. Wasn't me.

I don't feel sad, and I don't feel perturbed at all.

It was the human inside of me.

Human… Am I?

Am I really not? I want to be a human.

Why? Is humanity my weakness, or the only strength remaining inside of me?

The only part of me that remains.

I pat her head, smiling warmly. "We were both in the wrong. Friends oftentimes argue, but it's fine. I won't hold any grudges. You shouldn't either."

She nods slowly, repeatedly, sweeping the tip of her palms over her eyes.

"Well, we're done with the status, or system, or whatever this is. I don't really get it. Please explain to me what the dungeon core does," I say, and with that, the human is gone once again. Vanishing like a ghost. Leaving me. Alone.

I feel apathetic. Indifferent. No, rather, I feel malicious. Indiscriminate.

"I'm sorry…" she whispers again.

I hate fucking children. I hate dealing with them…

…

That tree girl. I have many questions for her.

 

[C. W. Miraj]

"You need to press your hand against the orb and channel your will…" she finally mutters, her lips down.

I do as she says. Easily enough.

This time, it's neither a gray type of hologram that formed before Mari nor a blue one that materialized next to me. A crimsony one, rather.

Dungeon of Wrath
Lvl. 1 |0/100|

Create |E| |CP: 30|
Domain |E| |DP: 30|
Summon |E| |SP: 30|
Alchemy |F| |AP: 30|

Troops:
Vassals: 0/3
Familiars: 0/3
Subordinates: 0/20

Medallions:
Wrath x1
Luck x1
Life x1

Without wasting my time on useless questions, I focus on Create.

Create |E|

Gremlin |F| |7 CP|
Murderbat |F| |7 CP|
Bloodbeetle |F+| |10 CP|

"CP, means creation points, doesn't it?" I ask her, lefting my head and glimpsing at her. "Accordingly, DP for domain points, SP for summoning points, AP for alchemy points."

"It is, kinda, but… How did you know?" she mumbles, wiping the last remnants of tears away. "Also… it took you no time to learn how to channel your will. Did you experience something similar on Earth?"

"Do you know any of these creatures?" I press on, lifting my hand up my chin, brushing it. "I can get a rough idea of what a gremlin is, but the rest—no."

"There are thousands of monsters roaming the Darklands, and most remain unclassified to this day. I've only heard of a gremlin and a murderbat," she says, watching the panel that I project with her downturned eyes.

"Go on," I insist, pinching her dark tunic.

"Gremlins are small and furry creatures, somewhat humanoid, with sharp fangs and batlike ears. Described as little devils, they are maniacal hooligans that pursue fun and mischief," Mari states in her teacher mode, pointing fingers to here and there. "Murderbats are… troublesome. The bats are very frail, though their ability doesn't lie in their life, per se, but in their death."

"How so?" I ask thinkingly.

"They explode when they die."

So basically suicide bombers? Troublesome may be for others, but for me that's a massive leverage.

Gremlins also. They seem to have hands and feet. So cheap labor, essentially. I can work them to death, and summon new ones when need be. Then again, their intelligence may pose a variable. We'll see.

I have thirty points. The question is, should I spend it all and experiment with each creature to find their strengths and detriments, or rather keep the points and use them purposefully as the situation demands?

"For starters, I think, we should test out the bloodwings," she tells me, turning her head sideways and looking up at me. "Only then can we tell for sure."

I nod in agreement. It is a futile exercise to ponder the allocation of all points without that knowledge.

I try to focus on the name of the monsters in the hope that something will appear, but no.

Nothing.

I switch my attention instead.

Domain |E|

Type: Tower
Floors: 2

1, Entrance Hall |15 DP|
2, Heart Chamber |300 DP|

3—

Room |30 DP|
Workshop |60 DP|
Laboratory |120 DP|

4— ??? |200 DP|

"So we're inside the heart chamber?" I ask her, swiping my eyes across the bloodied room. "The floor below, then, is the entrance hall. Correct?"

Mari nods, her broad forehead creasing.

"Room. With the thirty points, all we can buy is a simple room. I doubt it has any use. What about the workshop and the laboratory, what about them?" I ask her calmly.

"Workshop is to craft, predominantly artifacts. The laboratory is to brew potions. They have much more functionality, like brewing elixirs, crafting golems, or evolving the race of your monsters, but I doubt you'll get them instantaneously," she says, pointing at the inscription of the heart chamber.

"That see? The three hundred next to it? It's to upgrade the room. I have no idea what that entails, but as I've said, perhaps it opens up more functions. Whoever is behind the millennial wars changes the mechanics each time, so it's impossible to predict. Few things remain the same."

I nod.

"And two hundred to unlock the fourth room, correct?"

She nods.

Well, that's useless without first having the third room.

Anyhow, I don't have many points, and upgrading the entrance hall for fifteen or buying a shabby room for thirty doesn't seem a worthwhile investment. So, I'll come back to this sometime later.

Potions and craft sound interesting, so I first focus on alchemy before getting to the summons. As alchemy, to my knowledge, is the science of life. I wonder what it truly is, the science of life, that is.

Alchemy |F|

—

…

"Why does it not show anything?" I ask, frowning.

"Umm…" Mari mumbles, scratching her head. "I'm not sure… but—"

"It's because of my luck. Makes sense," I finish for her.

There are only four attributes, and coincidentally, here too, only four. Then, the rank of my mana dictates which rank Create is, the rank of aura tells of Domain, wise—Summon, finally, the same rank the fourth attribute is, the same rank is Alchemy. Presumably so.

That's useful to know. They say fortune comes with misfortune.

"Uncle?" Mari calls me. "Is everything fine…?"

Hmm? What's happened?

"What?" I ask, glancing at her twitching expression.

"Were you always this… bright?" she asks in a way that she thinks won't offend me, trying her best, failing miserably.

"I am a genius indeed. It's just that genius comes with crazy," I make shit up. "Unlike you. You're just crazy."

My mind has cleared, is all. I'm not being affected by madness, by wrath. For now—

"Only idiots call themselves smart," she mumbles, clearly pissed.

Well now she pisses me off. What she says makes no sense at all.

What is wrong with this girl? Why is she constantly courting death? I can grant her her wish if she so wishes to—

Okay. Calm down. Not again.

"You can barely multiply two by itself," she comments, hmphing and waving her hand, lifting her head, her amber hair waving too.

Arrogant little bitch.

"Hahaha…" I laugh silently, putting my hand up my mouth.

"Why laugh?" she asks, perturbed.

"It's nothin… it's nothing…" I wave my hand the same way she did. "I just thought about ramming my hands up your mouth and splitting your head in two, cracking it open like a champagne. You'd look so funny!"

"..." Mari blinks blankly, retreating a few steps. "I don't think it's that funny…"

"Right? I then thought about tearing your guts apart and forcing them onto your mouth. Imagine chewing on your own shit? That'd look even funnier," I say, brushing the tears of laughter. "There are so many ways to kill! I can cut your bladder apart and blind you with your own piss! Hmm? Princess?"

I look at her shaking figure, who now has a magical book in her hands.

"Hahaha! I was joking!" I was not. "You like pranks, don't you?"

Her legs, covered with intertwined leggings, tremble, crossed.

"It's merely a farce!" It is. I only want to turn her into a meat farce.

Looking at her shitlessly scared expression, I become somewhat calm.

I direct my attention to the status window again. Summoning, was it?

Summon |E|

Gift Pack |E| |15 SP|
Artifact Pack |E| |15 SP|
Monster Pack |E| |15 SP|

I have a shitty premonition…

I focus my gaze on the first one…

Gift Pack |E| |15 SP|

30% |F|
30% |F+|
40% |E|

No— No fucking way…

"Why are you looking like that?" Mari asks, her voice coming from beside me.

When did she approach?

Speechless, I gape, looking at the panel.

Looking at the panel, she gapes, speechless.

We look at each other with questioning faces.

"This isn't what I think it is, is it?" I ask her with a skeptical face.

"What the hell is this?" she asks me as though I'm the one who's been praised for my smarts and has read more books than most people have seen in their lives.

No, kid, it's you. You're the one who's supposed to know shit!

"Did gods go senile?" she asks in wonder, pondering. "Isn't this just… gambling?"

It fucking is.

A new box pops up, a feminine voice musing.

Not the calm and soothing one I heard before reincarnating, but a different, vibrant and lively one.

But then it hardens, a complete opposite of what it was just a moment ago, stern and heavy, masculine,

Congratulations! You've been chosen as an Archdemon! For your accomplishment, I shall shower you with gifts! Bhahahaha!

A hologram of an old man appears, smiling, looking like an ancient Greek philosopher.

I'm Jupiter! Heed my blessings, Oh Demon! My daughter!

He pierces me with his gaze.

"Juno?!" Mari shouts in surprise, backing away, flailing and falling, frail.

"Juno? But isn't this a man?" I ask, scrutinizing the newly formed figure.

"Yes! She's also Jupiter! The demons call her— him— Jupiter! I never thought it to be true! To think that a god would—"

The old man opens his palms, two spheres there, one in one palm, the other in the other.

Both shine brilliantly, of a brilliant, diamond color.

Gift Pack |S|

Monster Pack |S|

Jupiter then smiles widely, raising his fist in a supportive manner.

Good luck motherfuckers! You'll be needing it! Bhahaha!

Then he nods, bidding a farewell, turning and vanishing.

"Wow," I whisper, looking at Mari's trembling and cowering, messed up figure on the cold stone floor, her book awkwardly opened on her lap.

"Is this what you call a sugar daddy?"

 

[C. W. Miraj]

Approaching, I pick up the two balls lying on the floor. They barely fit my palms, almost transparent, hallucinatory. Made of real brilliants.

"You're not just going to use them, no?!" she asks me, stammering to her feet. "Just what the hell is happening? Why are the gods helping demons?! This is unthinkable!"

Blah, blah, blah—shut the fuck up, kid.

I'm as pissed as she is. Am I just a plaything for those beings, or what?

But what can be done, really?

Just like how when one is born into slavery, the best they can do is mine harder, is all.

Fate holds us as its prisoners.

To break from fate's shackles is no simple task, demanding extraordinary ordinance to weave miracles.

"Is there any use in keeping these?" I ask, shoving the two balls to her to show them. "What value do these possess?"

"You use! I doubt very much that these can be used by people, only demons. Maybe only by the Great Demons, and possibly even, only by Demon Lords and Archdemons," she blabbers, lifting her round chin, her downturned eyes resolute. "Even if it can be, nobody has seen such a thing before, and we need strength at the moment. Why hold onto resources when we can lose them at any moment?"

"What dangers?" I ask her, peering at her with my gaze. "The fact that you three came means there are more to come, correct?"

Silence envelopes the room.

She then nods, albeit slowly. "Archdemons usually appear in the heart of Darklands… but you're in its very corner… I haven't seen such things happen in historical records…"

"So at the border between humans and demons?" I ask, bringing my hand up my chin.

"Exactly. You right." Mari ups and downs her head. "If the news gets out, the capital will send all they have to exterminate you. Paladins, priests, and even saints will rush to destroy your demonic lair before it has any chance to attain power. They will wage an all-out war."

Just why is my luck so shitty?

Yet again, it can't be helped. We merely adapt, is all.

"Perhaps tomorrow or the day after, the local Adventurer's Guild will send a group to investigate the disappearances," Mari whispers, biting her lip. "A week at most for them to assemble a group of dungeon demolishers."

I nod, raising the left sphere. I forgot which one was which, but it doesn't really matter, or does it?

"Say, if I summon a high-ranked monster, won't it just outright murder us?" I ask her seriously, glancing sideways.

Is it me, or has the fog intensified? The moss of the walls and the floors have watered, whilst droplets drip-drop from the domed ceiling, hitting the floor.

At this temperature? It's cold as fuck.

Mari swings her head left and right. "The monsters you summon are fully under your control. They cannot attack you. Besides, there's a difference between creating and summoning monsters."

"When you create an A-rank monster, for example, it's A-rank from the get-go. If you summon such a monster instead, then it has the potential of reaching A, but it starts from lower ranks. They improve as the dungeon levels up, just as you do," she states, her sapphire eyes lit. "Unless they've changed this mechanic too…"

I still have a shitty premonition, and from what I've learned so far, my instincts are to be trusted.

The worst is that I die. But at least I won't die alone.

I nod, turning my head back to the ball and projecting my will into it.

Gift Pack |S|

60% |A|
30% |A+|
10% |S|

A notification box pops up, red.

Please press your hand against the dungeon core!

I do as it says.

Do you wish to open |Gift Pack |S||?

"Bring it on," I say in regret.

A new hologram appears. This time, a ginormous one.

There's an enormous wheel at the center. Its corners are of brilliant color.

There are various numbered sections, of three types. Gold, an even brighter gold, and diamond.

I presume the gold is A-rank while the diamond is S-rank since there are very few brilliant ones in total.

At the bottom is a lever.

I pull the holographic lever.

The reel starts to spin.

Here goes nothing.

"Gambling and gambling and gambling and gambling~" I sing and whistle as I watch the lighting and dimming and sparkling wheel spin and spin and spin in hypnotic blurs.

"Umm…" I hear Mari on my left, a book clasped tightly against her chest, her eyes curious. "This looks fun, no?"

Why the fuck are the gods brewing gambling addiction in children instead of providing peace and prosperity?

"Let's pray," I tell Mari, nudging her shoulder.

I clasp my palms together, my fingers turned up.

"Pray…? You a demon, you know?" she bickers, her eyes twitching. "Demons don't pray. Demons sacrifice."

"Let's pray," I insist.

I pray.

Your Lordship, I pray—

That you drown in the weight of your selfish excess,
That your bones break like your empty promises,
That the wails of the lost haunt your palaces,

That you rot away with no grave's tenderness,
That you find no rest in the dark's emptiness,

That you die not well but in a well in no peace but pieces,

That you experience the pain your slaves go through on a daily basis,

"Ah, I think I'm finished," I say, smiling holly, wholly embracing God as I watch Mari's round face, round in confusion. Then the wheel.

Exalted Charlatan |E|

Appear as a figure of legendary renown and create powerful visual and auditory illusions. Lowers the chances of enemies resisting the illusion by an amount proportional to Luck.

Illusion Magic +10%
Charisma +10%

Type: Murk, Luck

Potential: A

Well, fuck. The prayers didn't work. I got the lowest rank…

Plus, it's boring.

I would really want to change it if I could—

Mari sighs in disappointment. "I mean, at least the skill isn't b—"

Time slows.

Huh?

"b– b– b– b– b– a– a– a– a– a– a– a– a– d– d—"

Her lips barely move. Her expression is almost frozen in time.

I try to voice her name, yet my lips barely part, and my eyes barely move too.

What happened? Did the time really freeze?!

A familiar box forms before me, changing in a kaleidoscope of colors, black and white, yellow and purple, blue.

Tripartite Mandala

The name echoes in my mind.

Scribblings cover everything in my view. The floors. The ceiling, too, in some places, even. Predominantly tiled with caricature mosaics.

The walls aren't spared from the eccentricism either. Bizarre portraits stare holes into me.

Miniatures float and flounder, spinning and circling—zig-zagging hyperactively.

Before my eyes can adjust to the kaleidoscope of panchromatic vividness, it distorts once and for all.

The starry galaxy rearranges itself into a maze of historical tales in and outward to the very corners of the octagonal dome.

Then into the prehistoric records of the once prominent dinosaurs.

Then into something entirely else I don't know what to make of.

Modern art, perhaps.

Do you wish to use your Magical Power |Fate's Three Sisters|?

My head starts to hurt.

I can tell that I cannot remain in this state much longer, so without much thought, I agree with whatever the system is proposing.

The Wheel of Fortune has begun to move.

Three different boxes appear before me.

—1—

Exalted Charlatan |E|

Appear as a figure of legendary renown and create powerful visual and auditory illusions. Lowers the chances of enemies resisting the illusion by an amount proportional to Luck.

Illusion Magic +10%
Charisma +10%

Type: Murk, Luck

Potential: A

—2—

Ravenous Sea Webster |E|

Enhance control over threads to puppeteer objects and the shadows of those ensnared. Increases the clarity of sight, instincts and intuition. Leads to hallucinations and intrusive whispers from the abyss.

String Manipulation +20%
Vision: +20%
Lucidity: -20%

Type: Wise, Luck

Potential: S

Punishment: Pact of Nightmares

—3—

Black Swordsman |E|

Unleash an overwhelming aura of darkness that sharpens blade and presence to a supernatural extent. The sword strikes become heavier and faster and more precise while the encroaching void gnaws at the mind.

Sword Mastery: +10%
Darkness: +30%
Sanity: -20%

Type: Aura

Potential: S

Punishment: Brand of Sacrifice

Punishment?! The fuck is brand of sacrifice supposed to mean? Some aftermath from an eclipse?

Do I have to choose between the three—

ARGH! My head! It hurts!

The colors continue to shift and swirl swiftly.

Fuck it.

I make my choice.

There is nothing to think of to begin with. It is as obvious as it can get.

The thread of your fate has been spun.

The thread of your fate has been measured.

The thread of your fate has been cut.

Ominous voices of three women echo in my mind, protruding my ears, drumming repeatedly in my head.

Pact of Nightmares

You descend into a realm of horrors when asleep. Visions of screaming voids and traumas of your past haunt you. These nightmares actively erode your mind with each nightmare chipping away at reason and sanity. The dreams worsen over time. Giving up causes the body to fail in its sleep. You cease to exist as if erased from reality.

Your body reshapes into a Night Maiden when darkness falls—A spectral figure of feminine grace and madness. You obsess over all things that flimmer be they gold or blood or eyes glittening with fear.

You become enamored with dread.

…?

???

?!!

"Uncle!" Mari shouts into my ear.

Ah, time. Time moves again. I wish it didn't.

My body hurts. I wonder what's happening. No, not really.

"What's happening?!" asks Mari. "Your body is acting strange! It's transforming!"

Ah, I think I know. It hurts. Not outside, no. That, I'm used to. Something inside me breaks.

I think I read it wrongly. Yes. I just lack reading comprehension. Mari was right. I'm fucking stupid. So I must have misunderstood it. Right? Right. Right?! Right!

I look down at the slump of meat protruding from the hole in my robe that I've created when plucking my heart.

Should I just pluck it again and free myself from this misery?

I look further down. At the diamond ball.

There are supposed to be two balls, not one. Also, meaty, not blue. One ball is missing.

I lift my robe. Hahaha. Two balls are missing.

I look at Mari, who now stands at the same height I do, and shed tears, crystal clear, genuine tears of a man. No, not a man. Not even a human. Not even somebody. A nobody.

I've lost my memories.

I've lost my humanity.

I've lost my…

Mari looks at me in fake pity, barely refraining from laughing her ass off.

This must be a nightmare.

"A prank… this is a prank…" I say in the most feminine voice I've ever heard.

Did they just steal my balls? No, no way…

Did I just sacrifice my balls for a gift? No fucking way…

I look back at the nothingness between my legs.

…

FUCK FUCK FUCK

THERE'S NO FUCK!

IT'S FUCKING GONE!

FUCKED INTO OBLIVION!

 

[C. W. Miraj]

I've gambled my balls away…

All I had in this world were my balls…

I just lost my everything to a fucking slot machine…

Ninety-nine percent of gamblers quit before they win big.

One percent quit life instead. I think I'm among that one percent—

"Umm… Not everything is lost…" Mari says solemnly, patting my slumped shoulder. "At least you… I think you look… cute?"

Ahhhhhhhhhhh

I fall, and my knees wrack with bloodied pain, and worst of all, my chest wobbles.

"Not cute… only… haha…" she mumbles. "Like cutesy badassery, you know…?"

She's doing it on purpose, isn't she? I want to fucking kill her. But I have no fucks to kill with.

My heart. I can't. I need to pluck it. My eyes too. I want to unsee it. I need to.

"You just became a real magical girl. That's what you wanted, no? That's kinda cool, no?"

No. Hell no. Fuck no. Fucked I am if I am any cool with it.

I didn't become a magical girl. A magical mommy instead.

What are these bazongas? Why are they the size of melons? No, almost watermelons. How am I even supposed to walk with these two shits?

Though… it kinda does look fuckab—

I slam my head against the floor, the floor not fixing my head. It's broken. Everything is broken.

Wait! I know! It said I'm only a bitch when darkness descends!

"When is the morning coming?!" I shout, my voice a pathetic screech, looking at her desperately, blood waterfalling down my forehead, mixing with tears. Never before did I want to see the sun rise so much. The sunrise.

"Mornin?" she asks apathetically, puzzled, creasing her brows. "We're in the Darklands—"

NO NO NO NO NO NO—

"No morning. There is no morning here," she finishes her devastating blow, eliminating the last sparkles of hope I had, burying my dick, my desire to live.

"Bullshit!" I scream with tears and snot, pointing at the diamond windows above and beyond, at the blue orb lurking in the skies beyond and above the fog and auroras. "You said there is sun! If there is sun, there must be morning! Why are you deceiving me?! Stop fucking around! When will the moon be gone?!"

"Begone? Moon?" Mari breathes tiredly, raising her slender hand up her face and shaking her round head left and right.

She points at the orb with her other hand. "That thing is the sun. Moon has long perished in the Ragnarok with the death of Odin."

"Sun? That dwarf?! This is bullshit!"

"Yes yes indeed, the sun," she repeats, crossing her arms and leaning forward with a step. "The sun is dead, and that is how demons came to be to begin with. Miasma corrupted the lands, and most of the lands became Darklands."

"Anyhow, I'm tired explaining it all," she whispers annoyingly, walking toward me. "Just what the hell happened? You were fine a moment ago, no? Then you suddenly turn into a beauty seen once in a century. Most would die for it."

"Die for this?! Who the fuck in their right mind would want to become a woman!?" I shrill, throwing my arms out and wide and lifting my bouncing chest. "Women have a ruined disposition from birth! A dude gets muscles while a girl gets back problems. Running like a pigeon! Pumping out blood eggs every month like a factory with no off switch, like a malfunctioning vending machine… A biological livestock!"

Mari writhes in disgust, looking at me like looking at the lowest form of a lifeform. Well I am!

I ramble on, "They bear a child in their stomach for months like a scot! A glorified incubator! After nine months of suffering of having your organs rearranged and your spine snapped in half while your bladder turns into a yoyo ball, what do you get?! A little devil that shits itself and eats at your future."

"Have you had no mother?" she asks, her eyes twitching. "You know how ridiculous what you say is? Besides, men are no better. They have their most important organs in the most exposed area."

"Yes! EXACTLY! The most important organ! AND I don't have it! YOU CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO IMAGINE"

I know I sound ridiculous. I'm not in my right mind… No, it's the opposite.

I'm fully rational, and that's the problem. I can barely feel emotions, fully engrossed in reason alone. There is barely any shred of empathy remaining within me.

I extend my hands toward the heavens. "Balls. Give me my balls back…"

But do I really care? Some part of me cares. It still does. But…

A man or a woman, who gives a shit? A schlong or a hole, who cares?

Why would I hate my body? No, why would I care about my body?

It's a ridiculous notion. As if such a thing can break me.

I remember it. The first time my body got mutilated.

I felt empty, broken, despaired. I wanted to end it.

Yet I soon realized that the body is merely a shell.

Or am
Am I deluding myself?

"Princess…" I call whisperingly, looking up at the human emptily. "Did you love your mother? When on the brink of death, that is the last thing you thought of. Why? What is the reason behind love? Why do people love? Even after she's dead…"

Her face freezes, her lips quivering. Standing beside me with crisscrossed leggings, she looks at me in…

Pity.

"Never mind that." I slowly yet surely stand too, almost falling due to the weight of my brand-new basketballs, brushing my tears away. "You said how I got this active skill? Well…"

I explain to her all that transpired when the time froze and finally show her the reason for my misfortune.

Pact of Nightmares

You descend into a realm of horrors when asleep. Visions of screaming voids and traumas of your past haunt you. These nightmares actively erode your mind with each nightmare chipping away at reason and sanity. The dreams worsen over time. Giving up causes the body to fail in its sleep. You cease to exist as if erased from reality.

Your body reshapes into a Night Maiden when darkness falls—A spectral figure of feminine grace and madness. You obsess over all things that glimmer be they gold or blood or eyes glittening with fear.

You become enamored with dread.

"YOU WHAT?!?" she shouts at me, her eyes wide. "Black Swordsman is the gift one of the historical heroes had! It's overpowered! Besides, it suits you perfectly! Why did you not choose it?!"

"You said you were smart, yet then why are you too stupid to see beyond the obvious?" I ask her, showing her my status.

Chandra |Archdemon |SS||

Murk |E|
Aura |E|
Wise |E|
Luck |F|*

Gifts:
—Ravenous Sea Webster |E|
—The Devil's Wrath |E|*
—The Hero's Curse |A|
—Reverse Plot Armor |S|
—...
—...
—...
—...

Title:
—Villain |F|
—...
—...
—...

"Summoning wholly depends on one's luck, I presume, and as such, I'm fully intent on focusing on Wise to rank up Summon and ignoring Aura, as, just as you've said, I cultivate luck," I say, righting my head and looking at the girl, who stands at my eye level.

"But! That makes no sense! Your primary gift is dependent on your aura!" she shouts, clutching the triple folds of my cape, staring holes through me. "You are first and foremost Wrath Sin!"

"Who decided that?" I say, expressionless, my eyes barely parted. "I don't feel good about that gift, as such, I have no intent to use it."
"You what?! That makes no sense at all! How can you rely on intuition without any basis for the claims you make?!" Her saliva falls all over my face as she bickers.

"I just do."

My intuition is my sharpest weapon.
"..." Her lips part, her face petrified.

Looking at her sapphire eyes, I'm enamored by the desire to pluck and keep them. To hoard them. Is this what the pact meant when mentioning I'm now addicted to shininess?

"Listen, Princess," I say, turning away, walking toward Gunter's grotesque corpse. "I don't care about other Archdemons. Call it arrogance, call it confidence, call it what you will."

Picking the rusty sword lying on the ground, I bring it to my hair.

"What I'm most worried about are the organizers. Have the heroes ever lost?"

I glance at her.

Mari shakes her head.

"That's what I thought too," I whisper, cutting my long hair with the blade. "There must be a reason behind it. We demons are merely tools, seeds for something grander. If you take a banal approach, a path that most of the other Wrath Sins took throughout history, then it becomes improbable to break the collar."

Stepping over the mangled corpse, I glimpse at the tunic stuck to his flesh, a ragged piece of filth.

After kneeling, my fingers dig into his chest, peeling away the cloth as it squelches, wet and sticky.

Mari gags, behind me, looking at me.

Tearing long strips, I twist and pull, rip and stretch the stiff filth.

"To defy the norms. To defy the limits. To defy fate—"

"One must make deliberate yet irreversible choices to pursue the path deemed unreasonable and unwarranted by the others—"

"By the fools. By the pawns. By the slaves of their own consciousness."

I reach for the collar of my robe, hooking beneath the fabric, my breaths as still as my heart. Gently, I let the top of my robe slide down my soft, slendery shoulders.

Soft, fabric pools at my waist, my bare skin brushing against the cold air.

Softly, I breathe, closing my eyes, then parting them, resolute.

"If a lead sheep walks toward a canyon and falls, the horde will follow and throw themselves off the cliff too. I refuse to be a sheep."

"I'm neither demonic nor righteous. Neither a human nor a devil. Neither a male nor a female."

"I simply am Chan."

Mari stands behind me, watching, silent.

I grab the rusted blade. Then press it against my chest.

"What are—" She flinches, stepping forth.

I cut. With a sharp sting, deeper, I cut. It burns, and the blade drags, uneven.

Flesh clings. Blood spills. Nerves wail. Finally, it falls. Then I repeat.

Until the pain of crushed ribs replaces that that was once there.

I wait for the skin to close in quick succession before refocusing.

I take the bloodstained strips of cloth and bind myself.

I pull tight. Tightening. Tighter.

So that they don't grow back.

I wipe the blood off my chin.

Then pull the robe on.

"Let's summon the monster. Then get out of this dumpster. See the world outside."

I look at her blankly, and she watches me bluntly, her expression bland.

"Whether I have to offer myself on a platter or give up on love."

"I will get to the answers after traversing. Eventually."

"Eventually, the gods will cry with blood."

I smile brightly. I laugh heartily.

Mari smiles too, thinly.

 

[C. W. Miraj]

My name is Nanette.

Twenty years old.

Paris— France.

Today—

I'm going to kill myself.

But I can't just die right?

Hahh. We only live once.

So I want to fuck shit up before.

I've pondered for a long time.

Manslaughter? Arson attack?

But no. Boring. Too stupid.

Too simple. Too primitive.

My name is Nanette.

Twenty years old.

Paris— France.

Today—

I'm going to blow up the Eifel's Tower.

There's nothing to lose whether I fail or succeed.

When I think of the news… my face plastered on every outlet…

AHHHHHH I-I-I cantttttttttttt AHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Everybody singing my name. Nanette. Nanette. Nanetteaaaaaaaahhhhhh

I slide my fingers down my red gown. Deeper~ Harder~ Faster~ Faster~ Fast~

Ahh AHHH AHHHhh AHhhh AH AH AH~ ah. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—

Ah. Where were we?

My name is Nanette.

Twenty years old.

Paris— France.

Today—

I'm going to drive a van full of explosives to the iron lattice of the tower.

I finger the detonator. The detonator feels warm in my hands.

This little thingy has my life in its little antenna.

I gulp. I gasp. I prostrate on my seat. I exhale.

I exhale the antenna into my mouth. I lick it. I bite it.

Metal. Plastic. Deeper. Fuller. Then smear my blood on it.

Then down it goes. Then in it goes. Then in and out it goes.

Ahh AHHH AHHHH AHhhh AH AH AH~ ah. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Silence.

Smiling.

Ehem.

Apologies.

How uncivilized of me.

I almost just blew myself.

In every meaning of the word.

But let me introduce myself to you.

My name is Nanette.

Twenty years old.

Paris— France.

Today—

Today is a good day.

The weather is gentle.

The birds are chirping.

The moon shines coolly.

The moonlight pierces me.

The cozy breeze caresses me.

The city lights glow before me.

The vendors pack up their stalls.

The tourists are snapping pictures.

The lovers walk alight with wonder.

Romance. Romance. Speaking of romance…

I must tell that bitch I sucked her boyfriend off.

A little farewell gift before I turn into fireworks.

With my bloody fingers I reach out for my phone.

Her pink name glares at me as I triple tap the screen.

Then an annoying notification pops out out of nowhere.

Sure

A cute anime boy suggestively stares at me with sunny eyes.

Sure.

The Fish Constellation Pisces grants you an opportunity to participate in the Grand Battle Royale!

Sure.

Press now and escape into the magical and mysterious world of Noitavitluc!

Oh?

What am I doing again?

Hmm.

Ah. Killing myself.

Right.

Why am I then taking a random survey?

Annoying.

Just let me play the interesting sounding game.

Fine.

Was about to offer the rest of my money to a gambling corporation as a charity.

Sigh.

Better used than taxes that do nothing but redye the buildings and rerepair the roads.

Anyway.

1: Is all life equal?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

Who the fuck cares?

Yes.

All life is equally worthless.

2: Is there no absolute truth?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

Can I not skip the survey?

Yes.

Humans invent truths because they fear chaos.

Love?

A chemical reaction.

Justice?

A social construct.

Morality?

A fucking joke.

3: Is there no good and evil?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

When does it end?

Yes.

Yes Yes Ye—

6: Is there a meaning of life?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

Who in the name of teenage angst made this?

Yes

I gave myself a purpose and made my own meaning even if it's burning everything down.

Indeed.

If nothing mattered then I wouldn't be sitting in a van full of explosives waiting to rewrite history.

Well.

I am deluding myself in a sense.

8: Is suffering the default state of existence?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

Sad that my vibrator has no charge.

Yes.

Every living being chases something for the thrill of life.

Curiosity—

The greatest curse is to keep wanting no matter what.

Deliberation—

Every second of life is avoiding pain which is pain in and of itself.

Unfortunately—

Happiness is momentary while suffering stays and follows eternally.

Inevitably—

The rich wouldn't step on the poor and the strong wouldn't strive off the weak if suffering weren't a default.

11: Is democracy a form of tyranny?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

Am I out of cigarettes?

Yes.

Democracy is a government by the people for the people.

Yet.

Perfect democracy is more tyrannical than dictatorship even.

Yep.

People want the majority to rule because they're part of the said majority.

Idiots.

In reality the majority is incompetent.

Truly.

They underestimate how moronic and gullible an average person is.

Hence.

Democracy is when mobs rule individual freedoms.

Hence.

Democracy is the best form of propaganda.

…

Democracy is about convincing people they are free while controlling them.

Ingenious.

Whoever came up with this.

Stupidity.

The masses fail to question as to why a farmer and a drunkard should have equal say in nuclear policy only because democracy makes them feel special even when they're equally powerless in a system they themselves have built because of the rule of the said majority.

Ironic.

The ship full of sheep.

Where?

Where is it headed but a slaughterhouse?

18: Is war the most efficient form of diplomacy?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

My throat fucking hurts.

Yes.

Be they treaties or negotiations or debates they are oftentimes dragged on for years and for decades and for centuries where the losing side doesn't get to argue. Reality is such that there is no empire that hasn't killed its way into existence where a well-placed gun was worth a thousand speeches.

Diplomacy without war is just a theater whereas the real negotiations begin during and after the war. All diplomacy leads to war whereas all war leads to diplomacy in turn wherein it's a predictable and bloody efficient perpetual cycle.

Just look at the relations between Japan and America or look at how German ancestry is treated with scorn by their own descendants.

How the Napoleonic Wars led to the Congress of Vienna and stabilized Europe for decades.

Peace itself is built on war.

Shit. When did I get invested in this bullshit quiz?

28: Is the idea of childhood innocence just a convenient lie to keep young obedient?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

Yes.

People equate innocence with purity. Children are just uninformed.

They just haven't had enough power to do real harm yet.

They can be just as selfish and cruel as adults given a chance.

Just because a toddler hasn't figured out how to kill doesn't mean they're innocent.

The romanization of childhood serves to keep kids obedient in the first place.

—Stay pure and naive. Listen to authority and don't question the rules.

Childhood isn't about being safe but rather being trained to obey without realizing it.

A child who experiences suffering and betrayal will eventually lose the hypothetical innocence be it at the age of two or twenty.

There are kids who grow up in darkness while others are protected by wealth and luck.

Why then does it only exist for the lucky few if childhood innocence were real?

Innocence is merely ignorance and all who say otherwise are as ignorant as they are arrogant.

There is no innocence.

Innocence is disguised propaganda.

The notion of childhood as a time of innocence and dependence is recent.

Children throughout history were oftentimes expected to work and contribute to society early on just like adults.

Teaching children that they are too innocent to understand will limit their ability to question authority or engage with the world critically.

They are groomed to become corporate slaves raped in both mind and body till their deathbeads.

A fate worse than poverty and abuse and war and exploitation.

A fate in which they take pride in their chained collar.

They then in turn reprimand all creative pursuits.

They not only enjoy rape but insist others experience the same fate.

I am done getting raped.

My name is Nanette.

Twenty years old.

Paris— France.

Today—

I'm going to kill myself.

But first I have to finish this damn survey.

 

[C. W. Miraj]

32: Is this all you were ever meant to be?

1. No
2. Yes
3. —

Huh?

What a weird question. What in the fuck does 'what you were meant to be' even mean?

I was a person who wanted to break things from the very beginning. If I were capable of anything else then wouldn't I have chosen it already?

My entire existence has led up to this moment.

This is fate. My destiny.

I was conditioned for this from the way society turned me into something I despise.

I'm merely programmed to self-destruct.

I'm merely fulfilling that purpose.

I merely follow my code.

Besides if I were to say no then that'd mean I had to believe in something beyond.

But what? I see no future for myself.

I hate people and the world.

Every time I sought I reached dust.

What else could I possibly be?

But an inevitable consequence of everything that made me.

A byproduct.

I was shaped by factors outside my control from the very moment I was born.

Parents and the lack thereof—

Environment. Upbringing. Genetics.

The societal structures that dictated my beliefs—

My access to information and my emotions and whatnot.

I would have become someone entirely else were I born someone else in another time and in another place with a different set of inputs and yet I was not and so I became an outcome that has always been predetermined in a life where a choice is but an illusion.

I could have sought help but I never did.

I could have chosen to change but I never did.

I could have rejected destruction but I never did.

Transformation is a lie.

Personal growth is a lie.

Some people grow merely because they were given water while others rot left in the dirt.

There is no true self but only a role that was meant to be played.

I laugh at the idea of wanting to become whatever you want.

Did I choose to be born into a world that shaped my thoughts?

Did I choose to feel hatred or resentment or emptiness?

Did I choose to end up here and end myself?

No.

I did not.

I was always meant to be.

I was always meant to be here.

Yes.

This is all I was ever meant to be.

I was always meant to first live.

I was always meant to die then.

Living is an exercise in futility.

Nothing to change.

Nothing to reject.

Nothing.

Whether this world is a string of codes run by a programmer.

Whether this world is an artificial simulation run by noodle aliens.

Whether this world is a product of the imagination of some sociopathic sadist.

Nothing but The End.

I am not even killing myself as there was no self in me to begin with.

I am not negating myself but rather accepting the reality as it is.

I am accepting the lack of reality thereof and embrace null.

33: What faction do you believe most resembles you?

1. Righteous
2. Demonic
3. Neutral

There is the last question.

There is only cause and effect.

There is only systems of control.

There is no such thing as neutral.

There is no such thing as demonic.

There is no such thing as righteous.

People who justify their own actions.

At least it has a different set of answers.

Is this the last question? I feel as though.

I will go with neutral since I'm bisexual.

I glance at the sunset peering through the window.

Suddenly I'm not in the mood of killing myself anymore.

Tomorrow, or perhaps the day after? Should I perhaps apply to college?

I love drawing. Never had a talent for it. But why do I care what others think?

There is this childhood dream of mine to create the best comic book in existence.

Not any superman type shit. Not where the heroes win, or the villains do, really. No.

Instead…

A story where there's hope…

For both the depraved and the deprived…

A good story… with a fulfilling ending…

Perhaps that passion of mine is my fate… my destiny…

To erase myself into another world altogether and forevermore…

Congratulations! You have a 100% alignment with the Demonic Faction!

Hmm? What the fuck—

Blood. My nose bleeds.

I grab at it. What's happe—

"AARGHHHHHHHHHHH—"

My head! The head! Head hurts—

You've been chosen as a High Demon to rule over The Abyss!

Race |Human |F|| has been promoted to |High Demon |B||!

For the perfect results in the survey, you've been chosen as one of the Dungeon Masters to rule over the dungeons!

Race |High Demon |B|| has been promoted to |Dungeon Mas—

Error!!! Error!!! Error!!!

The words protrude my skull.

My brain lags as my veins burn.

Something is tearing me as though through and through throughout.

In and out and up and down and down and up and out and in and out.

I grip my ears as my vision blurs red and burns me within and without.

My forehead collides with the dashboard as the impact rattles the minivan.

I bang and again and another slam and bang before the entire dashboard croaks.

A fracture forms both on the console and my head as my skull meets plastic and metal.

The seat belt chokes me as I wrench my upper body left and right thrashing and jerk sideways.

Then I slam my head against the driver-side window as the glass spiderwebs and unknown memories assault me.

"Boss!" A young man calls, his head tiny under the ginormous afro. He stands tight, and salutes, his hands pressing shakingly against his tuxedo suit.

His skin is as dark as a human can get, his eyes sharp yet lost.

"It's done!" he shouts confidently, yet his body betrays him.

Across the long table, a hand under his chin, a mysterious man with messy hair and unbalanced glasses, nods in acknowledgment.

He looks airheaded, almost out of this world, yet there is a glint of unreachable malice within there, his eyes.

"Leave," he commands with a glance. His face remains expressionless, blank, his eyes empty, unreadable.

"Boss… I wanted to talk one on one—"

"You should leave, Gin," the mysterious man says calmly yet threateningly. A last chance. As though otherwise, the long decorative sword behind him would spill blood. "There is nothing to discuss."

"Is it really fine? Everything we're doing? You weren't such a person, Boss. You weren't. You've changed," the underling says, his eyes narrow, smiling sadly. "You have an objective in mind, right? I know that… But still. Selling an innocent child to a politician just so that you can later threaten him—"

The mysterious man strikes the table, his eyes wide, very wide… wrathful. At what? At his underlining? To the humans? In the world?

At himself?

"You're excused."

The underling lowers his head, turning back and leaving the room.

Silence.

The room abrim with rich decoration and lavishes… and paintings and drinks… and vases and luster… velvet carpets and high ceilings and expensive cologne…

Yet silence.

The man turns on his chair, glancing at the panoramic window with lazy eyes.

His eyes are dead, empty, reflecting the full city brimming with life.

"If it's not me, someone else will take my place…" he whispers, his lips barely parted.

"If it's not me, the world will be ruled over by demons…" he whispers, his expression calm.

"If it's me… I can do it…" he whispers, spare tears falling, washing over regret.

"I can become a devil…"

He says, his mouth half agape.

"I can bear all the dark this world has to offer."

"I can overcome anything."

"My goals lie far beyond."

He smiles, his eyes hazy.

"I can become The Devil."

"This will prove that I've lived—

You've been chosen as a Familiar to serve The Lord of Devils!

Race |Dungeon Master |A|| has been changed to |Vampire Queen |S||!

The mechanical and monotone voices brush against my mind like an autumn breeze.

Sounds feminine and gentle yet lonely and disappointed all the same.

Chapter 0. Walpurgis Night — Phase 1

Best of luck, Player…

This pain! Just kill me already!

The rearview mirror gets the full brunt of my forehead as the plastic snaps off the base and flies into the backseat.

The head slams into everything within reach be that the steering wheel or the window or the glove compartment.

As my fingers shudder twitchingly I jerk back and slam the back of my head against the seat's headrest then back at the steering wheel as it honks.

To die.

…

…I open my eyes.

A cold fog. Two people.

The one with the amber hair looks at me with her curious sapphire eyes. Her face is round while them her eyes are downturned. A dark tunic covers her body whilst the leggings criss cross her legs. I'm reminded of that one kid everyone used to ask for homework and exam answers.

She's relatively short just like the girl standing beside her.

Yet the other girl despite clearly being her sister from almost the same color of eyes has an opposite vibe.

For starters—her chest is massive. Clearly the winner of the genetic lottery.

For seconds—she looks like a high-school bully that would skip the classes to fuck with the upperclassmen. Her smile looks mischievous as if screaming proudly 'I wear Gucci and Chanel. Bitch. What about you?'

For thirds—clearly fucking stupid.

Sometimes you can tell just by looking at the person's eyes.

Straight and even raven hair falls just below her chin.

She wears a magical girl robe and a pointy hat.

She points at me delicately.

"She's hot. Wow."

 

[C. W. Miraj]

"Hey, Princess," I call, nudging Mari's shoulder. "She's staring at me. You think she's into me or something?"

"Umm… no," Mari says annoyedly after mild deliberation. "I think she's admiring the treasures you have."

I look down at my balls. Not tennis balls, not footballs, "literal fucking cannonballs, I kid you not, kid."

How did these shits even grow back?

I should try burning them later…

"You are not envious, are you?" I ask Mari, elbowing her with a smile.

I can't be the only one suffering.

Passive aggression is the best way to fuck up someone's mood.

"Don't be. Although, I don't think they'll grow any more after your age," I muse.

I giggle lightly, bringing my hand up against my cheek like a bitch I am.

My eyes smile too, toyingly. "How unfortunate~"

Bullying children and behaving like a baby.

How low can a man fall? I wouldn't know.

I'm not a man, after all.

"I couldn't care less," Mari says tiltingly. "Didn't you say for yourself that those are but a curse, no? Still, if you like them, then I'm glad for you."

"I couldn't agree more," Vampire says noddingly. "Besides there is a balance to everything. At that size those look rather unpleasant to the eyes most certainly."

Murdering children and women doesn't suddenly seem as bad as it did.

"Plentiful men most evidently fuck anything as long as it has a hole in it," she follows, stepping forth and standing before the kid and me, glancing down at us with her deep crimson gaze one by one before her naturally narrowed eyes fall on Mari.

"So don't despair kiddo. Ha! You're too young to think about such matters anyway."

I cross my hands, nodding approvingly.

Perhaps we finally have somebody with a shred of common sense amongst us.

"Don't be mean like that," she then says, pointing at me lazily with her arm half-raised.

"You will come to realize that siblings most definitely are irreplaceable as you grow. So be a kind kid."

Did this bitch just call me a kid?

"In any case," she tsks, then lefts and lifts her head, her exposed neck thin yet tall, egregiously tall. "Where are we?"

"Are you guys responsible for my transmigration?" she asks with a huff. "Should I call it a reincarnation instead? I don't seem to be in my body completely."

"We partially are responsible," I tell her, admiring her willowy swanlike shoulders. "You don't seem to care."

"Hmh." She nods with a puff. "So what kind of world are we in? What's precisely required of me mostly? Were you two the ones conducting the survey? You don't expect me to just go along with this shit now do you? Shit was so painful I don't remember shit."

I can hear Mari exhaling, upping her hand to her arching brows. "Wonderful… how one wasn't enough… now I have to deal with the two of them… Fantastic."

What is she blabbering about?

The vampire girl is completely fine.

In every meaning of the word.

I'm glad I'm still into women.

"So?" she presses. "Do I have to kill a Demon King or something? Do I get to have a harem full of adventurers with tragic backstories? I won't settle for less needless to say. I will quit most definitely if it seems boring."

Very reasonable.

I concur with that.

But fate is a bitch.

"Basically, you become my bitch," I say, pointing at her with a blank expression. "I was an old dude that got summoned to this world and met the kid beside me. It's apparently a battle royale between me and the six other Archdemons. We each control dungeons, raise troops, and amass resources. The winner becomes The Demon King."

I point above and say, "Then we summoned you."

"I see I see… hmh," she whispers noddingly, brushing the dark chocolate strands of her messy hair that frame her face and flow down to her chest.

"Hmh. So you're also from Earth?" she asks, rapping her fingers against her giraffe neck. "You most probably don't possess many memories too now do you?"

I simply nod. "Any other questions?"

"Unneeded," she says, running a hand through her messy hair, her crimsony eyes cloudy yet clever, her ears long and triangular, yet not close as long and pointy as the corpse of an elf lying beside us. "I can for sure become your bitch. Though if you prove to be boring I may butcher you most reliably you see."

"Fine by me," I claim, extending my hand. "You call me…"

"Your Devilship Chan."

She claims my hand. "Your Devilship Chan? Though Chan is a lame name so if you pardon me I'd rather settle with merely Your Devilship. I'm Na… whatever—

"I dunno. I forgot you see. Just call me Nan."

"Sure thing, Nan," I say, shaking our hands.

"Sure thing Your Devilship," she says, watching me emptily.

My hand fucking hurts, but I refrain from twitching my eyes. I can't let anybody know what I got…

Codex of Truthfulness

You are forbidden from knowingly lying. Your lungs seize the very moment deception forms in your mind. Your throat constricts and you choke to your death the very moment a lie crosses your tongue. Nothing can bypass the curse. Whether clever wording or mental trickery. The Codex knows the intent before you speak.

You become more susceptible to lies while unable to distinguish falsehood from reality—your natural skepticism is stripped away. You will act on falsehoods as if they are absolute truths. Your mind struggles to reject the lie even when faced with proof of betrayal.

Your senses are sharpened to unnatural levels where every touch is three times as intense. Pain is amplified beyond limits. All hit threefold.

First my balls. Now my ass. This bitch better be worth it.

I smile at her. "I really hope you are useful."

She smiles back. "Your Devilship your eyes hide your pain most definitely."

I look down at her pale hand, pale as a porcelain doll.

Her skin shines, slender, yet her hands and arms are not. They are a bit fat and rather muscular, unlike her graceful body and elegant face.

Her red gown presses against her skin, delicate and thin, going up her chest.

I press her hand hard.

She hitches, shuddering, blinking with dark lashes.

Nan then looks at me with pain drawn on her oval and mildly angular face, her cheekbones high and her jawline sharp.

Her soft lips part and further down, alluringly.

"Nan, your eyes…"

"They hide suffering behind nonchalance."

"Hatred. Misery. Betrayal. Indignation."

My smile deepens unbeknownst to me.

I look up, savoring the fear and shock—dread—on her face.

I love it.

And I'm enamored by it.

Cursed, I am, and,

"Pain, you say? You would be right," I say, tilting my head sideways, glaring at her emptily, expressionless.

"But no amount of pain can overcome me," I state truthfully, letting go of her reddened hand and turning to Mari.

 

[C. W. Miraj]

Mari looks at me with a blank face. She then looks at Nan.

She then looks at me. Then, at Nan.

Looks between us again and again.

"What?" I ask.

"Did you two know each other, perchance…?" Mari asks in wonder.

"Did you lose your head from the punch sub chance?" I ask her.

What makes me and the vampire similar in any capacity?

"Hmh." Nan lefts and rights her head observantly. "You seem to have killed the two. Why then did you keep the girly alive? To interrogate? To toy with and fuck? But then the elf would have been a better choice most certainly."

Mari shudders in disgust while I turn my head and glimpse at Nan. "Not really. Your mind, on the other hand, seems to be cluttered with lewd."

"I can't help myself," she says, shrugging. "Sex is among a few things that brings me joy in life although momentarily. Be it drugs or even caffeine they are detrimental for the body. Sex though is not at all harmful most definitely."

I point at Mari with my chin, wiping my eye with my other hand. "I keep her because I like her. She's very interesting."

"I see I see… it's very rare to stumble upon interesting people indeed. They are at times flickers of light in an endlessly dark tunnel." Nan approaches Mari, circling her, scrutinizing the fretful expressions she makes.

She then stops before her, slumping, locking eyes with Mari. "Hmh. I enjoy that also. When you have no hope in life you cling onto others'."

"But these eyes…" Nan mutters, smiling animalistically. "Sly. Deadly. Venomous."

Huh? What is she on about?

"Never mind." Nan turns back to me, thinning her lips. "You were right most inarguably. She's very interesting indeed. I shall see…"

She presses her palm against my heart. "Hmh. You most certainly possess no chance of attaining victory. I shall follow you to your grave Your Devilship."

I grab her hand, sniffing, my eyes plastered on her fingers.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"I am addicted to shiny things. A curse of mine," I say, licking them, barely resisting to outright munch and devour.

"Is that so? You do you," she says.

I bite, sucking on the blood.

She pushes my head away.

"That is not very manly of you," she says.

"Because I'm a bitch," me says.

"That is misogynistic of you," she says.

"Because I'm a sexist," me says.

"I see… I'm a feminist," she says.

"Because fuck you," me says.

"Fuck you too," she says.

"Please do," me jokes.

"You too~" she jokes not.

Mari coughs, bringing her fist up her lips, succeeding in getting all the attention. "We need to go. The adventurers will soon come. You remember?"

Ah, right.

"Let's leave," I say, letting Nan's hand off and heading to the stairway in the corner of the room.

The two follow from behind.

"It's fucking cold," Nan says.

"It's fucking cold," I say.

"It indeed is," she says.

Then asks, "Wanna fuck?"

"I don't have a dick to fuck you with," I say.

"I see I see… But is that a problem?" she asks.

"It is, it is," I say. "No dick, no fucking."

"Please?" she insists. "Why not?"

"Fuck off," I shoo her off.

"Fuck," she curses. "Hey kid. How old are you?"

"Umm…" Mari whispers shakingly. "Sixteen…"

I listen to them as I go down the stony stairs, my hand brushing against the hard walls.

"I see… I knew it. That's a no-no most certainly," Nan says, disappointed. "I really want to discover my new body… What a pity…"

"I'm surprised you give a fuck," I tell her. "I'm surprised you have principles at all."

"It's most definitely not principles," she says, her steps slow yet deliberate. "I just don't like it. It's not my thing…"

"I really wonder just where that line of yours lies," I say, reaching the floor.

"Sometimes I wonder also," she says, her voice thoughtful. "But most times I end up being disappointed in myself. There was one time I sucked a homeless guy off. I couldn't feel my chin for a week. You know the funny part is?" she asks.

"No, I don't. I don't even want to know," I say, walking toward the grand double door.

She continues anyway, "I ended up housing that man so he could feed me with sperm for a while. The old guy knew his stuff. A pity yet that he was too much into cocaine…"

"How did you even live like that?" I ask her, curious.

"I'm a genius you see," she says without a shred of pride. "I did chemistry. I was good at it. Had many patents and sold them off when need be."

"No, what I'm wondering is how you haven't gotten fucked to death," I say askingly.

"I did some jiu-jitsu," she explains.

"That doesn't explain shit," I say, reaching to the door with my hand. "You're a weak woman. Any man can fuck you up easily. That's basic chemistry or biology or whatever it is."

"Your Devilship you are most certainly dumb," she says. "Physical strength proves useless if you don't know shit about fighting in most cases and in most cases most don't know how."

Just when I'm about to turn and prove her wrong, I halt.

First, I'm a weak fucking woman, so there's no point to prove.

Second, a screen pops up in my head, hieroglyphs drizzling in my mind.

Where would you like to head to?

The Surface
The Abyss
|X| The Seven Heavens |Lvl.7|

I turn to my living encyclopedia. "Mari, weird messages. What to do?"

I project them on my hand, a red hologram forming.

Mari doesn't respond, her face blank, her mouth agape. She looks petrified.

"Mari?" I call her. "Princess?! The world calls for Mari!"

"Huh?" she deadpans, then finally reacts, blinking. "Are you guys, at last, done talking? I thought I'd go mad…"

 

[C. W. Miraj]

"Mari, what the hell is this thing?"

Where would you like to head to?

The Surface
The Abyss
|X| The Seven Heavens |Lvl.7|

"Oh, there is really no point going to the outside world, The Surface. I think we should head to The Abyss," Mari says assuredly, stepping closer. "Time works differently in The Abyss. Thirty times slower. We can gain strength there, fighting monsters for a month before adventurers come. Only a day will pass here."

"What if someone intrudes in our dungeon and absorbs the dungeon core while we are out?" I ask.

"Core? That red orb I saw above?" Nan ponders aloud. "Hmh. What's that?"

"Shut the fuck up," I tell Nan with a glance.

Then I tilt my head toward Mari again. "So? What's The Abyss? How is our core safe while we're there?"

"Umm… I don't think it completely is…" she says, avoiding my eyes. "Yet I don't think anybody can spot this dungeon in a short duration either…"

"How so?" Nan asks in my stead, her naturally narrow eyes narrowing further. "You three did that just fine."

"...I detected the dungeon from oscillating mana in the air when it formed. After that, the only way to find the dungeon is by physically spotting it, which seems improbable since we're in the Vastforest." Mari lifts her feet, first left, up and down, then right, up and down, then repeatedly, slowly, turn by turn, to warm herself while she talks.

"If there were others nearby who detected it just like me when it formed, then they'd have already been here by now, no?" she asks, wet boogers flowing down her nose.

"Doesn't seem most convincing enough," Nan verdicts, scratching her smooth forehead concealed by loose strands of dark chocolate hair.

"Absolutely. What if some fucker randomly comes here?" I agree with Nan noddingly, leaning to the door as my cannonballs bounce, which angers me as much as it arouses me.

Fucking disgusting.

Disgustingly…

Fuckable…?

It's moments like this when you want to burn your eyes and bury yourself…

I thought I did not care, but I just can not not care.

I really need to find a way to get rid of these…

"It's late, so most are in their beds right now. That buys us at least ten hours. We don't have to worry about monsters either since they don't go to dungeons… usually…" Mari whispers in an explanatory manner.

"See? You are unsure yourself Mari," Nan tsks, shaking her head.

"Absolutely. With my luck, it's no surprise if some random monster randomly roams here while loitering around," I tsk, too, shaking my head too.

I scrutinize the room.

The air cloaks itself in rot and decay, suffocating.

The walls here are uneven, fleshy in some places, petrified in others.

As though living organisms were forced into stone.

From some cracks, red mists seep out and cling to the oppressive fog, heaving it.

Is this my home…?

Hong Kong apartments are better, even.

"Uncle, if you are unsure, you can summon some monsters to look after the dungeon while we're away, no?" Mari looks at me reassuringly.

"It's still a huge risk nonetheless to trust the unknown," Nan disagrees, lifting her head.

"I don't want to trust my life to some gremlins." I find some bullshit reason to disagree just for the sake of it.

Wait, why, though?

Is this because Nan said so?

Why am I so easily convinced…

Ah, it's the fucking codex at work, isn't it?

Did it dumb me down to such an extent? I really became a gullible idiot…

From now on, I have to heavily focus on each word I hear and consider carefully before deciding, to avoid the codex influencing my decisions—

"It's also hot in The Abyss," Mari announces.

"Let's go to The Abyss," Nan immediately insists.

"Let's go to The Abyss," I repeat like a parrot.

"Fuck cold. I hate the cold," I declare.

"Fuck the cold indeed. Also fuck this bullshit fog. It's crawling up my skin most annoyingly," Nan tsks.

Mari, with wide eyes, eyes us incredulously.

She brings her hand up her face, rapping her fingers against her broad forehead tiredly. "I should have known… I'm starting to learn how to talk to you two."

Without hesitation, I pick The Abyss option.

What was I thinking again?

Ah, codex. What codex?

The room begins to shake, the dust swaying across.

Mari coughs whilst Nan wipes her red gown clean.

I watch the metallic double door as it opens gratingly like a beast waking from a deep slumber, the hinges and the frame pitching, the edges grinding.

The grrrrzzssssssss bounce off, screeching in a vibrating rumble.

The doors then slowly reveal a tunnel that goes down.

Welcome, welcome to the first circle! Fools! I welcome you to Gehenna!

Deep and sinister gruffs, throaty and rough, resound in my head.

"Did you hear that?" Nan asks, switching her gaze between me and Mari.

"Yes… I never would have thought a day like this would have come so soon…" Mari mutters, her eyes hazy. Yet she smiles fearlessly, full of vigor.

Wait a minute.

Something isn't right.

Why did I decide to go to The Abyss?

I don't even have any idea what it—

"Ahhhhhhh. A hot breeze~" Nan moans. "I hate the cold utmostly."

"Yes, fuck the cold," I rehearse. "Let's go, girls."

"Fuck the cold indeed," Nan sings the mantra. "Fuck the col—"

"NOT!" I shout, barely regaining reason.

I turn to Nan. "Shut the fuck up for a minute, will you?"

Nan points to her mouth in a zipping gesture.

I then turn to Mari. "Explain. Explain where we are headed and what exactly we can obtain by doing so."

 

[C. W. Miraj]

It freezes. It's so, so cold.

The two may feel the chill lightly.

Yet I sense the freezing humidity thrice as sharply as they do due to the codex.

My teeth tatter while my body hair stands straight.

Despite everything, I remain detached.

It's only feelings, feelings, which proactively deceive me.

Mari clears her throat.

"In order to obtain the experience required for cultivation, you need cores. Monsters have cores, and The Abyss is abrim with them." Mari crosses her arms, watching the rough ceiling. "The outside is really risky. Again, if they detect you and your dungeon, they will send an army."

"As for the dungeon defense, while we're away, there's no point leaving monsters. They are of low rank, so they won't help stop most intruders. Rather than that, it's better to put them to use inside The Abyss," the grand strategist explains, circling her amber hair between her fingers.

"But you really don't have to worry," she assures, eyeing me. "As I've said, the chances that someone will appear in such a short duration is abysmally low."

I nod, raising a single finger to my lips in a gesture of silence.

Time to think.

It is pointless to remain inactive inside the dungeon, awaiting an onslaught from the outsiders. The best defense is attack.

As for going to the outside world, again, she seems to be right. If her narrative abides to the truth, then heading there equates to prescribing myself a death sentence.

I lean my head back, eyes closed, arms crossed, my straight hair brushing against my eyes.

They will attack…

Time… time is of the essence.

Speed is the crux of every enterprise.

Things need to be done quickly, fast.

No, I need to push myself beyond just the speed, beyond the limits.

I take a step inside the opened door, embracing the darkness fully.

"Follow me," I command. "We can discuss the rest there when the time is slowed."

I hear pairs of steps behind me.

Then I look back. We look back.

At the screeching door that closes.

Then darkness. Silence, complete and utter serenity.

The door vanishes.

Instead, a wall.

A wall made of flesh.

It throbs, it pulses, it wobbles.

It smells of rot and sulfur, of old blood and sour fluorine.

I can hear Mari churn and gag, about to spill over, acid creeping up her throat.

She clenches her jaw and sucks in desperate breaths, beating her fist against her ribs.

Clammy sweats form on my forehead and drip down my lips.

Then—

Light.

No, not just light.

Eyes, many.

They part open on the flesh walls, gushing blood, watching us intently.

Most are white, some are purple, and very few are blue in color.

They are the size of a bear's head, some even as big as a commute elevator.

Some the size of fists while others large enough to swallow a man whole in a single blink.

Suffice it to say, the space is large, enormous.

Shadows move when they shouldn't.

"Khehehehehe~" silent laughs enshroud the area. "Khehehehehe~"

The voices neither stop nor relent.

"Khehehehehehehehe~"

I turn my head around in an attempt to find the source.

They come from far away, down.

The only way.

"It most definitely was a terrible idea," Nan says nonchalantly. "At least it's hot."

It's hot. Too hot.

The soles of my feet wail in agony.

I look down at the ashen floor, embered veins writhing about.

"Princess, how do we determine time here?" I ask, turning and glancing at Mari.

She responds, her face covered in bluish white glints, "Your status. Try to think about it, and it should."

I do as she says.

Gehenna |Area #23301|

Time: 00:00:49

Area: ???

Fifty seconds, huh. Do I have to endure this for days to no end?

"It can't be…" Mari splatters to the floor, her knees hitting the ashes. "It can't…"

I begin to have a terrible premonition. If I am to trust my instincts, and I sure am—

We're fucked.

"Mari? Something wrong with you?" Nan asks, kneeling mildly and nudging her shoulder. "Hey? Are you okay?"

"We are in an undefined area…" she says after a long pause. "Which means… nobody has yet come out of it alive in history…"

That does sound terrible.

"Just what kind of luck…" she bickers, her eyes hazy, teary.

"Stand," I say, forcefully grabbing under her shoulder and pulling her up to her feet. "Don't fret. It won't help."

"But how could this… I thought all of Gehenna has been discovere—"

I slap her, the slap resounding.

Even the nearby eyes blink at that.

She tilts her head forward, staring at me emptily.

I slap her once more. Then again, repeatedly—

"Stop!" Nan shouts, grabbing my hand. "That's enough. You'll cause a concussion."

Oops. It seems I overdid it.

"I don't understand you, Princess. Why are you so afraid of such things after fighting me? This brings shame on my name," I tell her, clasping her face in my hands and pressing my forehead against hers. "So you better not chicken out now."

"But…" she whispers, tears falling. "But we have exactly zero chances of survival… This is the worst case scenario with close to zero probabili—"

I flick her head. "So? What's the point of lamenting? If we die, then that's that. That's as far as we got, simply that."

I turn and step forward, leaving the two behind.

"How disappointing," I say, lowering my eyes. "I had hope in you. I thought you amounted to something, yet nothing. All fuss and words, all bark, no bite."

"If you can't stand behind your words, your ideas and ideals, then they are but a speck of dust in the timeless history, forgotten and unbegotten." I walk while my feet shrill in anguish.

"Wait!" she shouts from behind.

I glimpse at her, turning my head, my body facing forward.

"We need to formulate a plan! We can't just barge in! After checking Nan's status and how your gifts work, we will know how to put up a fight!"

I smile, crying inside.

I don't have to walk all that back now, do I?

"Status? What's that?" Nan asks Mari from behind me.

I sigh, looking at the deepening tunnel, about to turn back.

Yet there is a flying, bloody eye glaring at me in close proximity.

It has no eyelashes but lips instead.

Instead of an iris, it has a mouth.

Its tongue sticks out, licking its lips and smiling maniacally with its whole body.

A fucking flying lip-eye?

 

[C. W. Miraj]

I smile back at the motherfucker as I step forth.

"You wanna have a piece of me?" I ask with eyes warm and welcoming.

Yet ice-cold and unforgiving all the same.

Glazer |F|

A wandering aberration of hunger, a nightmare given form. It does not blink, nor does it rest. It wanders afloat, always watching, grinning, always. The moment it acknowledges you is the moment you have become its prey.

A levitating eyeball coated in pulsar veins and raw tendons. Possesses a ring of unfirm flesh instead of eyelashes. The lips curl, smirk, part. The pupil is a mouth, wide, unhinged, packed with scraggly teeth.

The tongue slicingly lashes out and stabs through with a dart, retracting thereafter. Any injury it inflicts struggles to close while the sensation of being licked lingers long after the strike.

The glazer hovers toward me, circling me from above.

I remain steady, standing, motionless.

I watch it calmly, tilting my head when need be.

It watches back, though I don't know with what, drool seeping and pooling at the corners—

Hungering.

Then—

The tongue whips forward.

Not at me.

The air beside me.

Then constricts.

Then tightens.

The tip whiplashes toward my shoulder at a staggering speed.

I sigh.

I lean back, dodging easily with minimal movement.

Yet I miscalculate as the tip scratches against my titty.

Useless sack of meat.

I immediately grab at the tongue before it can retract.

It tries to.

Yet I harden my grip.

"Had fun?" I muse, tilting my head left and staring at the glazer.

"My turn," I say—

The tongue coils around my wrist.

The mouthbreather flies toward me at a flashing speed, the maw widening.

"Didn't I say it's my turn?"

I mimic its grin.

The glazer's grin freezes in turn.

I first pull and twist, wrenching the tongue to the side.

The glazer lurches midair, off balance, jolting, a puppet with cut strings.

It screeches from deep inside its body.

I reel it in hard.

Then bring my knee up.

Cracking.

It rockets upward under the impact.

Yet I don't let go of its tongue.

I instead yank it downward.

Swinging.

The floor cracks.

Its flesh ruptures.

Veins pop.

Then again.

Up.

Down.

The wet crunch splats.

Blood bursts outward.

Repeatedly,

I wrench its disfigured body up—

Then down.

Then up—

Then slam it back down.

Tendons flap like butchered flesh while its lidless grin quivers.

The mutilated nerves snap like confetti,

Falling everywhere wherever—

Like a pinata—

I continue swinging.

Like a rabid dog shaking a chew toy—

Left and right.

Right and left.

Ripping it apart.

Before flesh sloughs off in long strips.

Before capillaries spill down its puslike remains.

Before it laughs pathetically.

Laughing for mercy.

Laughing for pause.

Laughing for death.

Before I slam it down hard enough to split it wide open as its pulp explodes with fluids gushing and the impact sending waves of shredded bloodbath rain around me.

I breathe in, looking back at the tunnel.

There, tendrils dangling beneath it, an eye floats, massive, disembodied, an oversized eyeball dominating its body, bloodied iris locking its gaze with mine.

And so it watches me, emptily.

Greenish, venomous flesh, irregular ridges and protrusions, twitch subtly, spongy.

The tendrils taper into thin points, swaying and writhing about.

And so, unblinkingly, it stares.

Gazer |F+|

A sentinel aberrant of mysteries, neither intelligent nor mindless. Erodes the mind with its gaze. The eye observes, then hunts cautiously, tracking each motion, tricking the observer.

Its bloodied iris pulses, the sclera riddled with raw veins, streaked with webbed scars that throb with inner light. The flesh surrounds the eye, armored, layered with plating, fused together, reinforced, calloused. Beneath, numerous tendrils whip, searching motions.

The instant it blinks, it secretes an acidic venom, compressed into a focused burst of light. The venom ignites on impact, boils, and dissolves in seconds.

"Sending this… for what? To give me a blowjob?" I point at the corpse of the glazer. "That boss of yours— Tell that pussy to bring their ass up here before I fuck up this cave inside out."

I launch the corpse at the gazer like a ballistic missile.

The gazer easily dodges at an incredible speed, flying back and upward, then retreating.

"Don't let it go!" Mari shouts from behind. "I'm sure it's a scout!"

I glimpse back at her, the scratch left by the glazer on my left breast burning like hell.

"How am I supposed to catch that? Do I look like I can fly?" I ask, turning back.

I stuff my hanging titty back inside my magical robe.

Wish I didn't pluck my heart that time…

That way, the robe wouldn't have a protrusion in the worst place possible.

Oh well, at least the heart grew back.

So all is well.

I hear Nan clap her hands.

"Your movements were most certainly flawless," she says, staring at me in awe with her deep crimson eyes. "Hmh. Were you a professional fighter in your past life maybe?"

What's gotten into her? I wasn't even trying.

Besides, I haven't gotten used to this body yet.

"You should go grab the corpse," Mari remarks, coughing. "Pluck its core and absorb it. We need to attain maximum strength before fighting the boss."

"Boss or whoever that is," Nan says, tilting her swanlike neck and rapping her fingers against it. "Is defeating them the only way to get back?"

I finally step before them, stopping.

"You right," Mari says noddingly. "But how did you know?"

"I've played enough video games to know," Nan responds, rolling her eyes. "What was that thing anyway? That flying thingy?"

"I have no idea," Mari says.

Huh?

"Did you guys not read their descriptions?" I ask, frowning before upping my hand to my chin and brushing. "Glazer and Gazer, it said."

"You can, we can't," Mari says, stroking the ashes off her knees. "You have a guess, no?"

Then she tries to stand, flailing, frail. "That's a trait, a privilege only the Great Demons have."

"Me and Nan don't," she restates, sniffling, snorting back mucus. "You do."

 

[C. W. Miraj]

Mari snuffles, dragging in a clogged breath.

I press the back of my hand hard on her forehead.

"Huh?" Mari steps back, her expression shaken. "What are you doing?"

How hot. Too warm, in fact.

However, I have bad senses due to the codex, so I can't tell for sure.

"Nan," I call, turning my head to her. "Can you check for sure?"

Nan nods, tapping the kid's neck with two fingers.

She then rests her palm against Mari's cheek.

"She most definitely has a high body temperature," Nan confirms my suspicions with a huff, resting her other palm on her own forehead for comparison. "Hmh. Most probably caught a cold."

Mari stammers. "What? But I'm feeling alri—"

She sneezes.

"Kid," Nan tsks, pinching her cheek. "I know he's dumb. But he's not that stupid."

The fuck was that?

"You should rest," Nan reprimands, narrowing her eyes.

She then glances at me. "What do we do? I really doubt there are antibiotics in this world."

"Princess, you've dragged us into this pit of hell, the cesspool of death, and yet you haven't even explained how we get food and water here," I say tiredly, grabbing her wrist and checking her pulse.

"Umm… I can generate water; I'm a wizard, after all, specializing in aqua," she says, sniffling. "As for you two—"

Mari points at Nan. "Vampires drink blood. Technically, they can also feed on excrements… but most abstain."

Nan nods thinkingly.

I don't even want to imagine what's going through her head.

"You too," she then points at me, her grimoire clasped against her chest. "You can even eat more things, almost anything. You remember you ate your own heart, yes?"

That's good to know.

I wonder if feeding on myself counts as cannibalism.

Oh well. Who cares?

I yawn, tears welling.

"But…" Mari lowers her eyes, staring at my heart. "You feel tired, yes? That means you don't have much mana left. It'll take a while for it to fill up, and it doesn't help that the core is outside where the time moves differently."

So I shouldn't rely on my regeneration at all, is what she's saying.

I scratch my head. "I and Nan will do just fine. What I'm concerned about is you."

Nan nods, putting her hand on Mari's shoulder. "You most certainly as a human can't feed on blood or piss or the flesh that the walls consist of."

"What will you do?" I follow askingly.

Mari slumps, clasping both hands over the tip of her book with a morbid expression. "I can feed on my mana. Though even without it, humans can survive for weeks without food…"

With my grand strategist being like this, death is not as far as it seems, it seems to me.

I pull out the strand of her hair.

"Ouch!" Mari holds onto her head. "Just why?!"

"Because I had an urge to pull your eyes instead," I explain truthfully as per codex. "You should be grateful."

"I see… how surprising…" Nan mutters to herself from the side. "Hair fetish… first time I've seen that most certainly."

I kick at her knee.

Nan falls face-first to the ashen floor.

Good. Now I feel better.

Though I can bet my balls that the vampire bitch enjoys the pain.

But isn't that… great?

I can make her my punching bag…

Mari coughs, interrupting my stream of thought. "As I've said, we should first formulate a plan before delving deepe—"

I put a finger on her lip.

"Stop talking," I say, tapping her lips. "I've already made up my mind."

I then look at the garbage lying on the floor. "Hey, Nan. Did you die?"

"I wish," she says, pushing herself up with the help of her hands, then curving her knees and pressing her large feet against the floor, standing.

"A pity," I joke

"A pity," she jokes not.

She wipes the dust off her gown, her nose bleeding.

"Hey, try thinking of a window like this," I instruct, showing her my status.

A blue hologram forms.

Chandra |Archdemon |SS||

Murk |E|
Aura |E|
Wise |E|
Luck |F|*

Gifts:
—Ravenous Sea Webster |E|
—The Devil's Wrath |E|*
—The Hero's Curse |A|
—Reverse Plot Armor |S|
—...
—...
—...
—...

Title:
—Villain |F|
—...
—...
—...

"Hmh. Like this?" she asks, extending her palm.

A crimson hologram materializes.

Nanette |Vampire Queen |S||

Murk |F|
Aura |F|
Wise |F|
Wrath |F|

Gifts:
—Sanguine Golemancy |F|
—Sin of Wrath |F|
—Hemomancy |F|
—...
—...
—...
—...

Title:
—Familiar of Wrath |F|
—Queen of Blood |F|*
—...
—...

"So that's my name! Nanette!" she shouts in joy.

"So you're fucking useless, Nanette," I whisper in regret.

This worthless bitch is what I wasted my ass on?

I now have to live with the codex, and for what?

This is the worst financial decision in my life—

My ass. I wish it were financial.

No, instead, I'm now crippled in every conceivable way.

I'm never using that Pandora's box ever again! What next? A pact of blindness? A pact of dick up my ass?

A pact of you get fucked every time you sleep? Ah, of course not.

Because I already have that shit!

The parasite licks the blood off her nose, then freezes, her lips quivering.

"This…" Tears flow down her eyes. "This is the most delicious stuff I've tasted so far in the twenty years of my life!"

"Twenty?!" I ask, shocked, raising a brow. "You're just twenty?"

"Mhm," she blabbers nonsense.

"Is that supposed to mean yes or no?!"

"It's supposed to mean I'm not sure," she says, lifting her head and staring at the eyes across the walls and the ceilings gazing at us, her oval and mildly angular face lit in whites and purples predominantly, also blues.

Patience… patience…

"I did the survey most definitely the day before my birthday. So who knows. Maybe I'm already twenty-one?"

BREATHE in… breathe out…

"Why? How old did you think I was?" Nan asks, blinking.

Come to think of it, she did act like a brat.

I turn and leave, walking on the scorching floor, my feet crying in despair.

"Where are you going?" Mari asks with a high pitch.

"I go murder their leader," I say, raising and waving my hand. "You two stay here."

"You can't just barge alone!" Mari shouts from behind, coughing. "Most go in groups of tens of people! How can you alone just—"

"SHUT UP"

Silence.

I turn, grinning like a lunatic.

"Useless fucks."

"What are you two but dead weight?!"

I point at Mari.

"It's already hot here. I'm sure the lower we go, the hotter it'll get. Your ill body won't endure."

"Take your time. Sleep properly. Use your healing magic," I instruct with manic eyes. Threateningly and menacingly.

I then point at Nan.

"You! Take care of Ma—"

No, never mind.

I point at Mari once again.

"You! Look after this perverted whore! Make sure she doesn't suck herself dry!"

The two look at me with wide eyes, speechless.

I back, clenching my fists.

"Moronic kids... A fucking kindergarten…" I mutter to myself as I march away.

An S-rank Vampire Queen—my ass. What does S even stand for? A S-hithead-rank?

What about the SS-rank Archdemon? Does SS stand for the breasts? SS-rank titties?

 

[C. W. Miraj]

Picking the small pebble of crimson lying amidst the mutilated remnants of a once prominent corpse, I scrutinize it.

Rune of Hunger |F|

A rune? Wasn't this supposed to be a core? Are they the same?

Clasping it in my palm, I course my will through it, the same way I did with the dungeon core.

Infinite possibilities form before me. There are particles of eleven basic colors, yet even the ones of the same color vary in their tints.

To the best of my knowledge, an eye, well, at least a human eye, can only register about a hundred variations of colors.

Yet, in reality? There are millions, if not billions, of them.

And I only need a specific color.

Just as Mari said, the particles that I require, the luck particles, don't flow toward me.

To put it simply, my will is completely ignored.

Do I then have to look for them, then, instead?

No, impossible. There are just too many.

I frown, guiding my will through the endless swarm of particles, breaking them apart, most of which are red. And so I grind them.

First, all colors except blue and orange and pink and brown vanish.

Out of the remaining four colors, each one of them except blue breaks into smaller, bluer particles.

Finally, only blue prevails. Fracturing those blue particles into smaller fragments of luck, I then realize—

Out of innumerable spheres of light, both enormous and gigantic, only a few hundred tinier ones are left.

Such a waste. But what can be done, really?

So, what do I do now? How do I absorb these particles?

I sit on the ashen floor, the ground grilling my ass.

Biting my lip, I force the hem of the robe down below my burning butt.

In my anger, I almost lost control over the particles I so earnestly gathered.

Breathe in… Breathe out—

Why is the air so fucking hot—

Concentrate!
First, I empty my thoughts.

Detach from the agony, detach from the anguish.

My breaths are steady.

Slowly, I channel the luck fragments inside the rune through my clasped hands on my waist and course them through my body to my heart.

Throughout the process, I lose half of them.

As they gather in my heart, I sense the connection between me and the faraway dungeon core.

Slowly yet steadily and surely, the fragments leave my body through the connection—

Reverse Plot Armor |S|

My heart tightens in pain as the connection falters.

Only a tenth of the fragments pass through.

The ninety percent experience loss, huh.

My eyes fall on the crumbling pebble that now lies on my lamp.

It almost ceases to exist, the dust scattering across.

So this is cultivation?

What can I say?

To summarize the whole experience—

A waste of fucking time as I gained close to no experience.

I writhe in pain as I stand, lifting my purple robe before turning to check on my asscheeks to make sure they're not cooked to perfection.

To summarize the whole experience—

I got my ass burnt, is all.

Wasting time on F-rank cores is useless unless they're perhaps of blue color, and even then, it's still not of much benefit.
What I need is fat prey, of E-rank, or perhaps even D-rank, to make the whole experience worthwhile.

Otherwise, I fear I'd have to cultivate for days to gain a single experience point.

And I need a hundred of them to level up my dungeon.

Thinking of it, I can open the dungeon's status window here since the connection is already established, right?

Dungeon of Wrath
Lvl. 1 |0/100|

Create |E| |CP: 30|
Domain |E| |DP: 30|
Summon |E| |SP: 30|
Alchemy |F| |AP: 30|

Troops:
Vassals: 0/3
Familiars: 1/3
Subordinates: 0/20

Medallions:
Wrath x1
Luck x1
Life x1

Before summoning that cursed bitch, I designated her as my familiar.

Mari said that all Archdemons can only have three familiars throughout their lifetimes. The difference between normal subordinates and familiars being that, I get stronger as they do, and they get stronger as I do.

They also attain substantial powers just by becoming a familiar.

A pity that I wasted one of the three spots for a mindless moron.

Oh well, such is luck. What can be done, really?

It's not that she's useless, no. I don't even know what abilities she has.

It's just that F-rank abilities are not worth any consideration to begin with.

For now.

In the future, as she improves upon them, maybe then, she'll possess some worth.

Though I doubt that. Just by considering what kind of person she is.

That's the problem, in essence.

Mari is a crazy kid. Unfortunately, I'm no better in my current mental state. We needed someone with reason, yet what we got instead was a lunatic.

So, I'm the most reasonable one in the group, which, in my life, has never happened before, which—is terrible, very troublesome.

I really miss Gin at times like this…

Gin? Wait, who's Gin again?

Never mind.

I stretch my hands, heaving a tired sigh as I further down the fleshed tunnel.

The eyes glare at me creepily.

I flip a middle finger, slender and delicate. My hand shakes as I barely refrain from spontaneously breaking it.

Remember, no more regeneration. I can't just sever my limbs expecting they'll grow back just as fine this time around.

I yawn, the air scorching and dry, blitzing through my throat and firing up my lungs.

Is this the punishment for my sins? This life?

I wonder, I wonder how long I can wander.

Is this my last journey?

The tunnel narrows, and the heat intensifies.

I meet a few more glazers along the path, slaughtering them effortlessly and ignoring their remnants.

I only regret that I didn't take Gunter's sword with me, or at least the elf's hand knife.

Could have dealt with things at a much faster rate.

In all honesty, I would have run and just ignored glazers, but instead I eliminate every one of them. After all, if I let them be, they will pose a danger to the kids.

Finally, after marching for a long time, I glimpse at the clearance below.