Two months had passed since the village fell to Berethia's wrath. The echoes of her actions still haunted her, playing like a relentless symphony in her mind. She sat hunched in the corner of a dim, abandoned hall, her staff resting across her knees. The once-vibrant green light that had raged from it was now dim, flickering like a dying ember.
Her body trembled as she clutched her head, her fingers digging into her scalp as if trying to claw the thoughts away. Why did I do it? Why couldn't they see me? The questions, the endless, tormenting questions, circled like vultures in her mind.
"I'm a monster," she whispered to no one, her voice cracking. "They were right all along."
Her reflection stared back at her from a broken shard of glass on the floor. Her hollow eyes, framed by dark circles, were unrecognizable. Her once-proud posture was now bent and weary. She hated the image, but she couldn't look away. It was all she had left.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, slow and deliberate. Berethia tensed, her hand instinctively tightening around her staff. She didn't look up as the figure came into view, his shadow stretching across the dusty floor.
"Still hiding, are we?" a smooth, unhurried voice drawled.
Berethia's head snapped up, her glowing eyes narrowing. Standing before her was Instructor Seth, his usual smug expression firmly in place. He leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied her with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.
"Go away," Berethia snapped, her voice low but sharp. "I don't have time for your games."
Seth chuckled, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. "Games? Oh, Berethia, I'm not here to play games. I'm here to offer you… an opportunity."
Berethia's laugh was hollow, her gaze dropping back to the staff in her hands. "Opportunity? I've heard that before." Her voice turned bitter. "And it always ends the same way."
Seth crouched in front of her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Not this time," he said softly, his voice carrying an edge of persuasion. "I've seen what you're capable of, Berethia. And so has Aetterus. He thinks you'd fit in quite nicely with his guild."
Berethia scoffed, shaking her head. "Why would I want to join anything? I don't belong anywhere. I'm nothing but a broken shadow of—"
"Enough of that self-pity," Seth interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "You're not a shadow, Berethia. You're power. You're chaos. And Aetterus sees potential in that."
She looked at him, her expression wary. "Why would he care about someone like me?"
Seth smirked, leaning closer. "Because someone like you, with all that rage, all that envy… you're exactly what we need."
Berethia didn't respond immediately. She stared at her staff, the faint flicker of green light reflecting in her eyes as she contemplated his words. Deep down, a small part of her wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe she could still have a purpose.
"And if I say no?" she asked finally, her voice barely audible.
Seth's smirk widened. "You won't," he said confidently. "Because you've already run out of places to hide."
Berethia stared at the faint glow of her staff, the silence between her and Seth thick with tension. His words echoed in her mind, each one pressing against the walls she had built around herself.
"And what happens when I destroy everything you're trying to build?" she asked, her voice low and bitter. "That's all I know how to do. Break things. Break people."
Seth tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "That's where you're wrong, Berethia. You don't just break things. You reshape them. You force the world to see you, to acknowledge you. That's not destruction—that's power."
Her grip on the staff tightened, her jaw clenching as she tried to fight the pull of his words. "What if I don't want that power? What if I just want to… stop?"
Seth let out a soft chuckle, crouching closer until they were nearly eye to eye. "Stop? Do you really think that's an option for you anymore? You've already made your mark, Berethia. The world will never forget what you've done. You can either let that define you… or you can take control of it."
She looked at him, her glowing eyes filled with doubt. "And what does Aetterus want with someone like me? Another pawn for his games?"
Seth's smirk softened into something more genuine—almost, but not quite kind. "Aetterus doesn't need pawns, Berethia. He needs people who are willing to embrace who they are, no matter how ugly it gets. And you?" He gestured to her staff, to her trembling form. "You're already halfway there."
The words hung in the air, each one sinking deeper into Berethia's thoughts. She hated how much sense they made. Hated how much she wanted them to be true. She closed her eyes, the faint flicker of green light dancing behind her lids.
"What happens if I say yes?" she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Seth stood, offering her a hand. "Then you'll finally stop hiding. And you'll learn what it means to truly be seen."
Berethia hesitated, her hand hovering over his. She felt the weight of her doubts, her fears, pressing down on her. But there was something else too—something darker, but undeniable. A glimmer of hope twisted with her envy, a need to prove to herself that she could still matter.
She placed her hand in his.
The memory shifted, the cold, abandoned hall melting away into the ornate yet chaotic grandeur of Aetterus's domain. The air was thick with magic, vibrant and unrestrained. Intricate illusions danced across the walls, their shapes ever-changing, as if the space itself was alive.
Aetterus Voss sat casually in a high-backed chair at the center of the room, his patchwork robes draped over one arm. His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief as he surveyed Berethia, his smirk widening as she approached.
"Well, well," he said, his voice smooth and teasing. "The infamous Berethia. I've heard quite a bit about you."
She stood stiffly, her staff clutched tightly in her hands. "I'm not here to impress you," she said bluntly.
Aetterus laughed, a rich, almost musical sound. "Good. I'm not looking for flattery. What I am looking for is someone who knows how to channel all that delightful chaos into something… useful."
Berethia narrowed her eyes. "And what's in it for me?"
Aetterus leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Purpose," he said simply. "The freedom to be who you are, without apologies. And the power to make the world kneel before you."
She hesitated, her grip on her staff tightening. The room seemed to pulse with energy, Aetterus's words weaving into the fabric of her thoughts.
"And what do you get out of it?" she asked, her tone wary.
Aetterus's grin widened. "The pleasure of watching someone like you unleash their true potential. Let's just say I have an eye for talent… and you, my dear, are brimming with it."
Berethia glanced at Seth, who gave her a small nod of encouragement. She turned back to Aetterus, her envy and bitterness warring with the small ember of hope Seth had ignited.
"Fine," she said finally, her voice steady. "I'll join you. But I'm not following orders blindly. I'm done being someone else's pawn."
Aetterus chuckled, clapping his hands together. "I wouldn't dream of it. Welcome to the guild, Berethia. Let's see what kind of chaos we can create together."
Aetterus leaned back in his chair, his smirk deepening as the green glow of Berethia's staff pulsed faintly in the dim light. His hazel eyes sparkled with intrigue as he studied her, his fingers drumming idly against the armrest.
"I do have one task for you," he said, his tone smooth and deliberate. "Something… special."
Berethia tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "A task?" she repeated, her voice laced with skepticism. "What kind of task?"
Aetterus's grin widened, his gaze flicking toward Seth, who lingered near the edge of the room. "Oh, nothing too immediate. Consider it more of a… long-term project."
Berethia remained silent, her grip tightening on her staff as she waited for him to continue.
"The prophecy," Aetterus said, his voice softening as if savoring the words. "A boy from another world. A boy unlike any other. He will arrive in our world in the years to come, transported by forces far greater than you or me."
Berethia frowned, her confusion evident. "A boy? What does that have to do with me?"
Aetterus leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "This boy isn't just anyone, Berethia. He is the key. The one destined to revive the Crimson King."
The room seemed to grow colder at the mention of the name. Berethia's lips parted, her breath hitching as the weight of his words sank in. The Crimson King. A figure of legend and terror, shrouded in mystery but known for his unparalleled power and destruction.
"And you want me to stop him?" she asked cautiously, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her chest. "To protect the world from this… boy?"
Aetterus's laughter filled the room, rich and unrestrained. "Oh, Berethia, you misunderstand me entirely," he said, shaking his head. "Quite the opposite."
Berethia's frown deepened, her unease growing. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Aetterus said, his tone turning almost playful, "this boy is not to be destroyed. He is to be nurtured, guided, shaped. He is the key to everything we desire—the key to power beyond imagination."
Berethia took a step back, her gaze narrowing further. "Why would I want to help someone bring the Crimson King back? Isn't he… isn't he chaos itself?"
Aetterus's grin never wavered. "Chaos is merely another form of opportunity, Berethia. The King's revival will usher in a new era, one where those like you and me no longer have to bow to the whims of a world that shuns us."
She hesitated, her thoughts racing. The idea of aiding the boy, of helping to bring forth such a force of destruction, sent a shiver down her spine. And yet, there was something about Aetterus's conviction, his certainty, that made her wonder if there was more to this than he was letting on.
"And if I refuse?" she asked, her voice low.
Aetterus's expression softened, though his smirk remained. "You won't," he said confidently. "Because deep down, you know this is your purpose. This is your chance to be seen, to be remembered, to shape the world in your image."
Berethia clenched her jaw, the green glow of her staff flickering erratically as she wrestled with her emotions. Finally, she exhaled sharply, meeting Aetterus's gaze.
"And who is this boy?" she asked, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity. "Do you even know who he is?"
Aetterus chuckled, spreading his hands. "Not yet. But trust me, Berethia, we'll know him when we see him."
His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Berethia's grip on her staff tightened as she nodded slowly, her mind swirling with questions she wasn't sure she wanted the answers to.
"Fine," she said finally, her voice firm. "I'll do it. But don't think for a second that I trust you."
Berethia remained standing in the room's dim light, her staff now resting at her side. Aetterus paced leisurely, his patchwork robes swaying with every step. His ever-present smirk was replaced by something more thoughtful, though his eyes still sparkled with mischief.
"Berethia," he began, his voice smooth and deliberate, "do you know what truly makes you special?"
She frowned, gripping her staff tightly. "I've heard that line before. Usually right before someone tries to use me."
Aetterus laughed lightly, waving off her skepticism. "Oh, I'm not here to flatter you. I'm here to tell you the truth. The undeniable, absolute truth about what you are."
Berethia tilted her head, her expression guarded but curious. "And what am I?"
He stopped pacing, turning to face her fully. His gaze was piercing, his tone steady. "You are a Sin. The Sin of Envy, to be exact. One of the Seven Deadly Sins destined to reshape this world."
The words hit Berethia like a physical blow, her body stiffening as she processed what he had said. "A Sin?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "What does that even mean?"
Aetterus smiled, stepping closer to her. "It means that your magic, your emotions, your very being are tied to one of the most primal forces in existence. Envy isn't just something you feel, Berethia—it's what you are. It fuels you, gives you strength, and—if you let it—will consume you entirely."
Berethia's grip on her staff tightened, the green glow flickering erratically. "And you know this how?" she demanded, her voice sharp.
"Because," Aetterus said with a dramatic flourish, "I am also a Sin. The Sin of Pride."
The air in the room seemed to grow heavier as his words settled between them. Aetterus's smirk returned, his posture straightening as he reveled in the weight of his revelation.
"Pride," Berethia said slowly, her eyes narrowing. "That… makes sense."
Aetterus chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She shook her head, her mind racing. "So, what? There are others like us?"
"Precisely," Aetterus replied, his tone brightening. "Seven in total. Each embodying one of the Deadly Sins. Some have awakened, like you and me. Others are still dormant, waiting for the right moment—or the right catalyst—to come alive. And some…" His voice trailed off, his expression darkening slightly. "Some are scattered across this world, wandering aimlessly, unaware of what they are."
Berethia raised an eyebrow. "And you know where they all are?"
"Not exactly," he admitted, though his smirk didn't waver. "But I know enough. Enough to see that the pieces are falling into place."
She studied him carefully, her envy flickering in the back of her mind. "And Seth? Where does he fit into this?"
Aetterus's eyes gleamed with a flicker of prideful amusement. "Seth? Let's just say he's… useful."
Berethia's expression darkened. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting," Aetterus said smoothly, his tone turning sharp. "Not everything needs to be laid bare, Berethia. Not yet."
She clenched her jaw but didn't press further. Something about Aetterus's tone made it clear that he wasn't going to share more, at least not now.
"So, what happens now?" she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside her. "What's your grand plan for these Sins?"
Aetterus's smirk widened, his arms spreading theatrically. "Oh, Berethia, it's not about a plan. It's about destiny. The Sins are meant to be together, to bring about a new era. A world where people like us aren't shunned, aren't forgotten, aren't pushed aside. A world where we are the ones in control."
His words sent a chill down her spine, her staff's glow intensifying as her emotions churned. "And what if I don't want to be a part of this?"
Aetterus's gaze turned sharp, his smile fading. "You don't have a choice. You are Envy, Berethia. You can't run from it, you can't hide from it, and you certainly can't deny it. It's as much a part of you as your own heartbeat."
The weight of his words settled over her, her thoughts spiraling as she tried to make sense of everything. She wanted to fight back, to push against the idea that she was nothing more than a manifestation of her own envy. But deep down, she knew he was right.
"I'll do what you ask," she said finally, her voice low but resolute. "But if you're lying to me…"
Aetterus's smirk returned, his confidence unshaken. "Oh, Berethia, I wouldn't dare. Welcome to the beginning of something extraordinary."