---
The void shifted once again as Asmodeus stepped through the portal. His expression was calm, but his transparent eyes glinted with determination, reflecting the void itself. Anyone who gazed into those eyes would see a cold, unyielding clarity—an abyss that promised both destruction and survival.
This time, the landscape was unlike anything he'd encountered before. A serene, dreamlike field stretched out endlessly before him. The air was warm, cradling him like an old friend. Golden sunlight bathed the soft, rolling grass that seemed to sway lazily with an unseen rhythm. Flowers in a kaleidoscope of colors dotted the ground, their subtle fragrance soothing his nerves.
A gentle breeze carried a melody so delicate that it felt like a whisper, promising safety and eternal rest. For the first time since the trials began, Asmodeus felt his body relax involuntarily.
"So," he murmured to himself, "this is Sloth."
---
Before he could take another step, a voice echoed softly in his mind, like the comforting tone of a parent lulling a child to sleep.
"Asmodeus… you've done so much already. Rest. There's nothing more to prove. Sit down, relax. You've earned this peace."
The words wrapped around his mind, insidious in their kindness. For a fleeting moment, he felt his resolve waver. His body loosened, his arms slackened at his sides, and his breathing slowed.
"Why fight?" the voice continued, soothing and persistent. "Why suffer? You've already done enough."
---
Asmodeus's gaze darkened, his transparent eyes narrowing to slits. The gentle sway of the grass, the intoxicating scent of flowers—it was all a trap. He took a step forward, but his legs felt heavier than before, as if the ground beneath him was conspiring to hold him still.
Suddenly, a throne materialized in the distance, its radiant glow drawing his attention. It stood tall and golden, exuding an almost divine aura. The light from it illuminated the field, promising warmth, comfort, and permanence. Behind the throne, the sky shifted to a tranquil twilight, casting long, serene shadows across the ground.
Asmodeus scoffed. "A throne of laziness? How fitting."
---
The voice grew firmer, more compelling. "Why resist? Why choose pain? Sit on the throne. Everything you've ever desired will come to you. There's no need to struggle anymore."
He froze in place as the words pressed against his mind, his shoulders slumping slightly. The weight on his chest grew heavier, and the edges of his vision blurred. His body felt sluggish, his thoughts muddied by an inexplicable exhaustion.
The throne glimmered brighter, its glow filling him with an overwhelming urge to stop moving. Just one step toward it. Just one. He could sit down, let the trial end, and finally be at peace.
---
"No," he growled, his voice cutting through the haze like a blade. His transparent eyes glimmered with fierce clarity. "You won't win."
Without hesitation, he raised his hand and slashed his forearm with his claws. The sharp sting of pain shattered the fog clouding his mind. Blood trickled down his arm, staining the pristine grass below. His breaths came faster, his heart pounding with renewed vigor.
"Pain," he muttered, his voice steady. "Pain is clarity. If comfort is my enemy, then suffering will be my weapon."
---
The landscape rippled, as if recoiling from his defiance. The golden light of the throne flickered, its surface cracking slightly. The once-inviting breeze turned cold and biting, cutting through his wounds like shards of glass.
The voice hissed, its tone now sharp and venomous. "You harm yourself to defy me? How foolish. You can't endure this forever, Asmodeus. Your body will fail. Your willpower will fade."
He smirked, his sharp teeth glinting. "You're going to have to try harder than that."
---
The weight on his body doubled, then tripled, as though invisible chains were dragging him into the ground. His knees buckled, but he refused to fall. Instead, he clenched his fists, the sharp points of his claws digging into his palms. The pain sent a fresh jolt through his system, keeping his thoughts razor-sharp.
"I've endured worse than this," he said through gritted teeth. "You're nothing compared to what I've already overcome."
The throne's glow dimmed further, its cracks spreading. The grass around him withered, the vibrant flowers turning to ash. The sky darkened, swallowing the twilight in an oppressive blackness.
---
The voice screamed in frustration, its soothing tone replaced by raw anger. "You cannot resist forever! Everyone succumbs to Sloth. Even you, Asmodeus!"
He stumbled forward, every step a monumental effort. His body screamed for rest, his vision tunneling. Yet he pushed onward, dragging himself closer to the crumbling throne.
"This trial isn't about rest," he muttered, his voice a low growl. "It's about stagnation. And I refuse to stop moving."
Without hesitation, he drove his claws into his thigh, tearing the flesh. The agony was excruciating, but it was enough. His mind cleared, his resolve solidified.
---
The throne shattered completely, its radiant light extinguished. The oppressive weight on his body lifted, and the world around him dissolved into the familiar void of transition.
Asmodeus stood tall despite the blood dripping from his wounds, his transparent eyes gleaming with triumph.
"Five down," he said quietly. "Two more to go."
The void began to shift again, preparing for the next trial. Asmodeus exhaled slowly, wiping the blood from his hands.
"Sloth thought it could stop me," he muttered, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "It was wrong.".