The sound of chains scraping against the cold stone floor echoed through the dimly lit throne room. A figure, clad in shadow, dragged a bloodied and battered body across the ground. Each step left behind a fresh stain of crimson, a silent testament to the suffering endured.
As the figure approached the grand throne, the surrounding darkness dissipated. One by one, torches ignited with an eerie red flame, their flickering glow revealing the presence of something beyond mortal comprehension.
Seated upon the throne was not a mere ruler, nor a god—but something far more terrifying. The very essence of the abyss itself. The oppressive aura it exuded was suffocating, a presence so overwhelming that no mere human could hope to comprehend it, let alone withstand it.
The figure halted and knelt before the throne, his posture a perfect blend of unwavering loyalty and paralyzing fear. As he stepped into the light, his form became clear—a warrior clad in silver armor, his wolf-like ears twitching as if sensing the weight of unseen forces. His eyes, as piercing as emeralds, gleamed with an unnatural sharpness, their feline-like pupils narrowing in submission. Upon his back rested two swords, their hilts worn from countless battles.
Beside him, bound in thick iron chains, lay the body of a woman. Her fragile form bore the scars of captivity, her once-pristine garments now soaked in blood.
The warrior, his voice steady despite the tension in the air, finally spoke—his words directed at the figure upon the throne.
"My lord, I present Axsilia von Dragonia to you, as you wished."
The warrior raised his head, meeting the piercing gaze of the figure upon the throne. The air turned heavy, suffocating. Those cold, abyssal eyes bore into his very soul, stripping him bare with their silent judgment.
"Good," the ominous ruler mused, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "Your efforts shall be rewarded, Lucifero." With a mere wave of his hand, the decree was sealed.
Then, without shifting his gaze, he raised a single finger toward the bound woman, her chains rattling like the final toll of a funeral bell. "Step back. I have business with another."
The woman before him—Axsilia von Dragonia—was a vision of fallen majesty. Once a warrior bathed in golden glory, now shackled like a beast awaiting slaughter. Her armor, once radiant, was tarnished with filth and smeared with her own blood. Strands of golden hair, now matted and dyed crimson, clung to her pale skin.
Lucifero moved without hesitation, seizing her by the hair and yanking her upward. She let out a low, guttural growl of agony, yet her eyes... her eyes still burned. Brown irises filled with unyielding pride—hatred so fierce it could set the heavens themselves ablaze.
"Why have you kept me alive, Aizen Morphius?"
Her voice, laced with venom and seething with killing intent, echoed through the throne room like a curse.
"After slaughtering my people..."
"After butchering the innocent—elderly, children, even infants..."
"After reducing an entire kingdom to ashes for your own amusement..."
A heavy silence settled between them, thick with grief and unspoken agony. Then, her voice cracked, raw with sorrow.
"Why... why was I spared?"
Her body trembled, chains rattling against the cold stone floor. And then, with a wretched scream that tore from the depths of her soul—
"WHYYYYY!"
Her anguish filled the chamber, bouncing off its vast walls like the last, desperate wail of a dying world.
"What are you scheming, you wretched demon?! Just kill me!!"
Her rage burned white-hot, but beneath it lay something far crueler—hatred not just for him, but for herself. She lowered her head, drowning in the abyss of her own despair. It wasn't merely her existence she loathed; it was the cruel irony of survival.
That she alone had lived through the nightmare.
That she had been too weak, too powerless to protect the people she loved.
That in the face of horror, she had clung to life like a coward.
More than anything—more than vengeance, more than blood—she desired death.
For in death, at least, she could find atonement.
Seated upon the throne was a man of undeniable supremacy. His long, white hair cascaded down his broad shoulders, framing a face devoid of emotion. Eyes like gleaming crimson slits—feline, predatory—pierced through the dimly lit chamber, reflecting the flickering red torches that lined the stone walls. A single horn jutted from his forehead, a mark of something beyond human. His aura was suffocating, a presence that commanded submission.
When he finally spoke, his voice was like ice—emotionless, absolute.
"How can you speak of death?" Aizen Morphius's gaze bore into her, unfeeling, indifferent. "For you, I have plans."
With those words, he shattered her final hope of escape.
"I offer you a place within my ranks," he continued, his tone unwavering. "You are too valuable to be discarded."
Axsilia's head snapped up, her eyes burning with defiance.
"I would rather die than surrender!" she spat, her voice trembling with fury. "I carry the pride of my kingdom!"
Her chains rattled as she struggled against them, her voice growing louder, stronger.
"I will never follow you—not even in death—"
"THUD."
Her words were cut short as a brutal punch connected with her face. The force of the blow sent her crashing into the ground, the sheer impact fracturing the stone beneath her. The entire chamber trembled under the force.
The one who had struck her stepped forward—Lucifero.
Blood splattered across his silver armor, dripping from his knuckles as he wiped it away with a slow, deliberate motion. He exhaled, eyes dark with contempt, before lowering himself into a respectful bow before Aizen.
"My lord, forgive my insolence," he spoke with reverence. "But I could not tolerate this wretch speaking ill of you."
Still kneeling, he pressed a fist to his chest in devotion.
"Please, allow me to handle her."
Aizen observed him in silence before finally giving his decree.
"As you wish, Lucifero. Take good care of her."
Lucifero's lips curled into a smirk as his form dissolved into the shadows, vanishing into the abyss with Axsilia's unconscious body in tow.
"Yes, my lord."
As Lucifero vanished into the shadows, the grand throne room fell into silence. The flickering red torches cast eerie, shifting shadows across the towering stone walls, their glow illuminating the lone figure still seated upon the throne.
Aizen exhaled.
"Phew."
Then, as if a mask had been ripped away, his entire demeanor shifted. His rigid, emperor-like posture slumped, and beads of sweat dripped down his face. His crimson eyes, once cold and unreadable, flickered with barely contained panic.
"THAT WAS CRAZY SCARY!!"
He ran a hand through his white hair, his breath still unsteady. His voice, no longer the deep, commanding presence of a ruler, now wavered in quiet, wary disbelief.
"That damned game... I cannot risk being found out at any cost."
His fingers clenched into the armrest of the throne as a chilling realization settled over him.
He was trapped.
This world—this terrifying, merciless world—was no longer a game.
And if these monsters ever discovered the truth…
For if the truth were ever to be discovered… he would die.
In this world teeming with powerful beings and unfathomable mysteries, he was utterly alone. No allies. No second chances.
Now, before him lay a vast realm of secrets and endless possibilities—a land where the strong ruled and the weak were devoured.
His challenge was no longer to win.
It was to survive.