Black Moon Overture III

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.

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 on 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