[ Outside the Darkspire UFC ]
A pale man with a high ponytail of jet-black hair sauntered into the crowded tunnel. His sunglasses hid his eyes, adding an air of indifference.
His robe, loose and tattered, whispered of countless battles and secrets.
Yawning wide enough to crack his jaw, he grumbled,
"Uggghhh... why did I have to leave the Cultist Temple for this nonsense?"
As he walked, his pace sluggish and uninterested, he passed by a towering figure—muscles built like a fortress—and a young woman with maroon hair that shone like autumn leaves.
It was Devian and Lilith.
Lilith's gaze was fixed on her phone, thumbs flying over the screen.
Beep Beep The caller you're trying to reach is currently unavailable Beep Beep
She clenched her teeth.
"Ugh! Where did that idiot vanish to?"
Devian, unable to resist, leaned in to peek at her phone.
"Missin' Daseos already?"
Lilith's lips puckered into a pout.
"Hmph! As if! He could be lying in a ditch somewhere for all I care."
Amidst the echoing chatter and clatter of the underground, a voice rose like a challenging note in a symphony.
"Kids! Over here!"
Lilith and Devian turned toward the sound. It was Fiszure, waving his hand as if trying to catch the wind.
Lilith rolled her eyes, muttering,
"He's only a year older than us!"
Devian, however, was vibrating with excitement.
"Who cares! We're going to see [5] in action! WooHOO~!"
Fiszure couldn't help but tease as they wove through the crowd.
"Oh? So the boyfriend really didn't show, huh?"
Lilith crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing into slits as she looked away.
"Hmph!"
Just then, a raucous commotion erupted at the Darkspire UFC's entrance, yanking everyone's attention away from their own squabbles and anticipations.
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Let me in ~ Turning away a notorious cultist like me will get you struck by lightning! "
The pale guy with the high ponytail was back, now theatrically gesturing towards the heavens as if calling down divine retribution.
The two bouncers, built like tanks and twice as menacing, exchanged a quick glance before sprinting after him.
One of them pulled out a walkie-talkie, barking into it,
"We've got a Code Green! Repeat, Code Green! Another shameless person is trying to get in without a ticket!"
The pale cultist glanced back and chuckled.
"Oh, we're doing this, huh?"
He dodged to the left, then spun around a pillar, his tattered robe flapping like the wings of a chaotic bat.
The bouncers followed, huffing and puffing, their heavy boots pounding against the floor.
Devian, Lilith, and Fiszure watched in amusement.
The pale guy skidded to a stop near a hot dog stand, swiping up a mustard bottle as he passed.
With the flair of an artist, he squirted a zigzag pattern in the air, momentarily blinding the charging bouncers.
"HA! How do you like the 'Yellow Divine Retribution'?"
He shouted, bursting into laughter.
*SQUIIRRRTTT*
The bouncers skidded, arms flailing, mustard splattering their uniforms.
They looked at each other, then back at the cultist, and for a moment, everyone paused.
"Seriously? Urghhh GET THAT FUCKING BRAT!!!"
One bouncer finally shouted, wiping mustard off his face.
The pale guy shrugged, his grin widening, almost splitting his face.
"Well, I did warn you about the lightning."
As he prepared to vanish into the crowd, his gaze flickered past the confused bouncers and caught sight of Fiszure, Devian, and Lilith.
For a split second, the atmosphere seemed to freeze around him, thickening like molasses.
His eyes, hidden behind the dark sunglasses, ignited.
Black flames roared to life within the depths of his pupils, a fire so dark it seemed to swallow the light.
Though no one else could see it, he experienced a brief, fragmented vision—a tangle of futures, a mesh of possibilities.
Lilith's maroon hair flickered like a dying flame;
Devian's muscular frame seemed to shift, dissolving into shadows;
Fiszure's face blurred, then refocused with an expression that wasn't quite his own.
And then, as quickly as it had come, the vision evaporated, leaving only a vague sense of unease.
"A most intriguing weave of destinies,"
He mumbled to himself.
Being a dark cultist, these visions were not new to him.
But this one felt different.
Important, even.
The dark cultist stopped in his tracks, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
He swiveled on his heels and bolted towards Fiszure and the group, skidding to a halt behind Lilith.
"Excuse me, missy! Would you mind being my temporary shield?"
He said, grabbing Lilith by her shoulders and ducking behind her.
"What the—?"
Lilith's voice was a hissing fuse, sparking and ready to explode.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
Her eyes narrowed, a cruel light igniting within them.
In a swift, almost involuntary motion, her nails elongated into razor-sharp claws.
With an agility that contradicted her earlier demeanor, she spun around, lunging at the intruder.
But Occulus was not there.
He bobbed.
He weaved.
He ducked.
To an outsider, he looked like a buffoon barely dodging circus knives.
But every swipe Lilith took, he was always an inch away, a hair's breadth from contact, struggling to keep his sunglasses from flying off his face.
"Hey, easy there! Wait! Wait! Lilith, was it?"
Occulus panted.
"We used to play together when we were kids, remember?"
The moment hung in the air like a pause in a musical score.
Just as Occulus began to say,
"You're Lilith of the—,"
Her hand shot up, clamping his mouth shut.
He blinked, his eyes darting to the entrance of the Darkspire UFC.
With a wink, he signaled: Get me in, or I'll spill the beans.
Frustration twisted Lilith's face.
She looked at Fiszure, who had been watching the whole scene with bemused interest.
"Fine…"
She muttered.
"Fiszure, this is Occulus. He's an old...acquaintance. Can he come with us?"
Fiszure chuckled.
"Well, if he's a friend of yours, Lilith, I don't see why not."
Fizsure took a long look at Occulus, in this mind,
'This kid… is no simpleton either. Darkspire's really getting interesting!'
Occulus' grin stretched from ear to ear.
"Thank you, lovely lady and kind sir. Today just keeps getting better and better!"
Satisfied, Occulus stepped out from behind Lilith, straightening his robe and adjusting his sunglasses.
As they walked, the thudding footsteps of the bodyguards echoed closer, their growling voices just a pace away.
Fiszure, sensing their approach, casually reached into his pocket.
In a smooth, practiced motion, he flashed a badge towards the approaching bouncers.
Their eyes met the metallic glint and instantly, the tension evaporated.
The bouncers, once eager to toss Occulus back into the streets, bowed respectfully.
"Apologies, sir,"
One of them muttered, and they backed away, retreating as quickly as they had come.
"You've got quite the pull around here, huh?" Occulus said, clearly impressed.
Occulus flashed a mischievous smile at Lilith.
"Just like old times, huh?"
He whispered, following her toward the pulsing heart of the Darkspire Underground Fight Club.
Lilith rolled her eyes but couldn't entirely hide a reluctant smile.