L’Opéra De Géhenne III

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."