"Are you guys aware she sent another killer after our Chosen One?" Erosan spoke lazily. His androgynous form shimmered, long hair flowing as his eyes shifted colors like a kaleidoscope. He was dressed in a white robe with blue trim. "Not so lovely," he snickered.
"I felt her energy," Caelus said, his voice calm but alert. "Tried to trace it, but something was interfering with my magic."
He stood with the bulk of Mr. Olympia Cbum, wearing only a black shirt and shorts. His hair was slicked back, and his expression unreadable.
"This better be important," Velmora grumbled as she strode in. She looked like she'd just stepped off a beach in Hawaii—red sundress, tousled hair, and an expression full of barely concealed irritation. "I had to cut my vacation short for this."
They took their seats at a triangular table in the center of the room, which was decorated like a war chamber—celestial maps pinned to the walls, glowing runes crawling across the floor like circuits.
[Welcome, The triumvirate Above, your humble servant greets you] An AI like womanly mechanical voice spoke.
[Should I prepare something to eat or drink, or an update on the chosen one like usual.]
"I'm fine for now," Caelus and Velmora said in unison.
"I'll have that new smoothie you picked up from that one planet, Nova darling. What was it called again—Hearth? Girth? Ugh, I can't remember," Erosan muttered, flicking his wrist dramatically.
[Earth, Lord Erosan. It was Earth.] Nova replied, voice flat but patient.
[Preparing it right away.]
"What are we gonna do about this new
Mr.Terminator, we don't even know what he looks like, or if he's a she." Erosan broke the silence as he slurps the blueberry smoothie that appeared on the table out of thin air. He raised an eyebrow on the taste.
"Is it good—the smoothie, I mean?" Velmora asked, eyeing Erosan's drink.
"It's really good," he replied with a satisfied sigh. "Got that refreshing, sinful little kick."
"Get me one too, Nova. Add a shot of vodka," Velmora said, her voice light and curious—like a kitten forgetting the world was burning.
Erosan smirked. "You'd pour vodka on a salad and call it holy water. Drunkard."
Velmora shrugged, already twirling the straw of the smoothie that appeared before her. "Only because it makes your whining tolerable."
As the two slurped in unison, Caelus leaned forward, unamused. "As divine as your alcohol dependency may be, perhaps we could return to the world-ending assassin now?"
Caelus exhaled slowly, stars dimming in his irises. "We can't interfere directly. You know the law—we're glorified spectators with backstage access. All we can do is inform the Chosen One that another assassin's on his heels."
Velmora gave a lazy wave of her hand, sipping her spiked smoothie. "Fine, I'll tell him. He listens best when I deliver the news anyway."
Erosan grinned wickedly, resting his chin on his hand. "Ah, yes. Our lovely diplomat and her adorably subtle crush. Tell me, do you bat your lashes when you drop warnings of impending doom?"
Velmora narrowed her eyes, but her smirk gave her away. "At least I'm not flirting with both sides of every war like a hormonal windstorm."
Erosan clutched his chest dramatically. "Guilty as charged. But unlike you, I don't pretend it's strategic communication."
Caelus clapped his hands once, not out of applause—but to break the momentum. "Enough. If this killer is what I think it is… our amusement may be walking on a knife's edge."
__________________________
Vespar's eyes snapped open. Cold black marble pressed against his back as he lay sprawled across the floor. He groaned and pushed himself upright, instinctively brushing invisible dust off his coat.
In front of him stood eight identical doors—tall, ominous, and all painted his favorite color: black.
He stared, then muttered, "Why in the seven hells do I keep waking up in strange places every time I pass out?"
His voice echoed off the walls, swallowed by the silence.
"Nyx, where am I?" Vespar asked, his voice laced with irritation.
Silence.
A full minute passed. Still nothing.
"Hello? Somebody here? Ms. 'I'm the all-knowing' Nyx?" he added with biting sarcasm.
Nothing.
He sighed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Okay... she's not here. Now it's getting interesting."
Then his expression darkened.
"COME OUT, YOU SON OF A B—" he paused, squinting around, "—or daughter?"
He raised both arms. "I don't discriminate. Equal ass-kicking rights for everyone!"
"Hello, Vespar. Hope you enjoyed the ride," a voice spoke from behind.
He turned swiftly—eyes narrowing.
For a split second, he was stunned. The figure standing before him was... him. But Vespar didn't let it show. His claws slowly slid out, gleaming under the dim, unnatural light.
"So now I've got a doppelganger," he muttered, expression unreadable. "Who sent you, fu**er?"
The mirror-Vespar gave a half-smile. "I'm not your enemy. I'm a tiny fragment of your soul—carved by the World itself. I exist to guide you through your trials... of self-understanding."
A/N: The World is a semi concious entity who oversees the working of the planet.
Vespar raised an eyebrow. "Alright then, soul-buddy. Mind telling me where exactly I am?"
"You're in the innermost chamber of your soul," the fragment replied, voice calm but echoing with layered resonance. "A place even Nyx cannot reach. Here, your magic lies dormant, tangled in shadows you've yet to face. No shortcuts. No help. Only you—and truth."
Vespar scoffed. "Great. Therapy, but make it magical."
"Walk with me," the fragment said, already moving forward without waiting.
They stopped in front of the eight towering doors, each matte black, emanating a quiet, unsettling energy.
"Since you don't have your memories—the peculiar case, you are—the World constructed these eight trials. Each door contains one of the Seven Deadly Sins, manifested from your own soul—"
"What's the eighth door for?" Vespar interrupted, arms crossed.
The fragment paused, his smile twitching at the corners. "I was getting there. Patience, man."
He turned to face Vespar fully, expression calm again. "The eighth door... is your reward. But only if you manage to understand what you truly are."
Vespar tilted his head. "So, a prize at the end of the existential escape room. Cute."