You, my dear reader, might wonder about the reason for Asmodeus's excitement. It's quite simple, really. While he could choose what his fear would be, wouldn't that be terribly boring? Predictable, even? So, in the twisted, cunning way his mind worked, he made a proposition to his soul and consciousness. The moment he entered the trial portal, his mind and soul would randomly manifest a fear—something entirely unique and unexpected.
Why, you ask? Because Asmodeus believed true growth came not from controlled challenges but from chaos. Besides, with a soul as pure and condensed as demonically possible, combined with a dragon's unyielding will, his "random" fear would undoubtedly be... special.
And so, as Asmodeus approached the shimmering portal that signaled the beginning of his trial, his expression wasn't one of apprehension but sheer amusement.
- - - - - - - - -
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the world shifted.
[WARNING! YOU ENTERED A SPECIAL DOMAIN!!] Asmodeus casually ignored the system warning of corse.
He found himself standing in a realm that defied comprehension. The sky above was neither day nor night, glowing in hues of molten gold and deep crimson. The landscape stretched endlessly, ever-changing—one moment a field of jagged obsidian shards, the next a sea of molten rivers that shimmered like blood under moonlight. It was beautiful in its morbidity, a realm that invited awe yet radiated an oppressive sense of dread, as though escape was not an option.
Before Asmodeus could truly take it all in, a familiar voice broke into his thoughts.
"Oho? Quite the intriguing fear you've manifested, Asmodeus!" Dreamer's voice drawled, his tone both amused and mocking. "The seven deadly sins, huh? How poetic! I designed this trial especially for your... ah... extraordinary willpower, let's call it. Seven parts, each dedicated to a sin. Very cool, eh?"
Asmodeus sighed, his annoyance clear. "Oi. Get out of my head. It's irritating."
"Now, now, aren't you the feisty one?" Dreamer's voice replied, smug as ever. "How about I remind you who's in charge here?"
Suddenly, a searing, gut-wrenching pain coursed through Asmodeus's body, sharp enough to bring even the strongest beings to their knees. Yet, instead of screaming, Asmodeus scoffed. He spat on the ground, his expression one of disdain.
"You'll have to try harder than that," he mocked. "This? This feels less painful than an ant bite."
There was a brief silence before Dreamer spoke again, his voice dripping with shamelessness. "Fine. You win. But I'll be watching, little demon. Enjoy your trial."
And just like that, the voice was gone.
Before Asmodeus could retort further, the landscape around him shifted again. The jagged obsidian fields melted away, replaced by an endless crimson garden.
---
It was breathtakingly beautiful—lush trees with leaves that shimmered like rubies and roses in shades that seemed impossible in the mortal realm. The air was thick with a heady scent that seemed to invade his senses, making his skin tingle. Merely standing there brought a flood of unnatural pleasure, a sensation that tickled the edges of his mind, whispering promises of bliss.
And then, the temptresses arrived.
They emerged from the trees like phantoms, their forms both ethereal and tantalizing. Women of unimaginable beauty, their features flawless, their movements graceful, and their voices... oh, their voices. They didn't speak but moaned, sang, and whispered, the sounds weaving into a melody so seductive it could unravel even the most disciplined of minds.
Some danced, their bodies moving in ways that defied logic yet demanded attention. Others drew closer, their touches feather-light as they whispered temptations directly into his ear.
"All you have to do is stay here," one cooed, her breath warm against his neck.
"No need for trials, no need for pain," another murmured, her lips inches from his own.
The air grew thicker, charged with a magnetic pull that beckoned him to let go. He could feel it working against him, chipping away at the edges of his resolve.
For a moment, just a moment, Asmodeus felt the stirrings of something foreign. A primal desire to give in, to let go of his burdens, to stay.
But then, he smiled—a dark, knowing smile.
---
"You're impressive," he said aloud, his voice cutting through the melody like a blade. The temptresses froze, their expressions faltering for the briefest of moments.
"But not that impressive."
His words were followed by a sharp pulse of energy, his sheer willpower radiating outward like a shockwave. The temptresses recoiled as if burned, their perfect forms distorting for a split second before returning to their alluring state.
"Do you think I'm so easily swayed by cheap tricks?" Asmodeus continued, his tone dripping with mockery. "I've faced the darkest corners of my soul. Do you think I'd fall for... this?" He gestured at the crimson garden, at the temptresses, his disdain clear.
One of them stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "You misunderstand," she said, her voice shifting to something colder. "This isn't a mere illusion. It's a reflection of what you could have—pleasure, power, freedom from pain. All you have to do is..." Her lips curled into a smile. "Give up."
Asmodeus laughed—a deep, booming laugh that echoed across the garden. "Give up? Do you know who I am? I am Asmodeus! Giving up isn't in my nature."
The temptresses snarled, their perfect features twisting into something monstrous. Their once-soft hands became claws, their melodic voices turning into guttural growls. They lunged at him, their once-seductive movements now predatory.
---
But Asmodeus was ready.
With a flick of his wrist, he summoned his energy, his body radiating a dark crimson aura that matched the garden's hues. The first temptress reached him, her claws aimed at his throat, but he caught her wrist effortlessly, his grip like iron.
"You should've stayed pretty," he said before twisting her arm and sending her flying into a nearby tree.
The others hesitated, their monstrous forms faltering as they realized their prey wasn't as helpless as they'd thought.
One by one, they attacked, and one by one, Asmodeus dispatched them, his movements precise and calculated. He wasn't just fighting; he was sending a message.
When the last temptress fell, the garden began to wither. The vibrant crimson leaves turned black, the intoxicating scent replaced by the stench of decay. The once-beautiful realm crumbled around him, leaving only a barren wasteland.
One might be wondering how did he so effortlessly defeat his Lust Trial, well he its quite obvious, he had a...lot of fun as a high demon.
Asmodeus stood in the center, untouched and unshaken.
"Lust?" he muttered, shaking his head. "Pathetic."
And with that, the world shifted again, preparing him for the next sin.