Sacrifices To Jupiter XX

"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.

I then glance between my fingers, softly brushing my palm as I speak.

"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.