Her skin brightens. Snowy white, that of a porcelain doll.
Her eyes darken. That of the darkest of the dark, abysmally black.
There aren't even any irises there. No nothing. Just pure pools of cosmic corruption.
Her lips pale, and the strands of her hair similarly lose their life.
Thin horns rise from the forehead, slightly backward toward the tip to avoid obstructing vision, yet pointy and deadly.
Dark, also.
A bloody serpent begins to coil around her neck, biting at its tail after finishing a full circle—an ouroboros—a snake that devours itself.
Shit looks scary. If anything, she looks like a demon the most out of everyone here.
She looks at me, winking.
The Archdemon of Gluttony,
The Lord of Plagues,
Gluttony Sin Hlam
I force a smile, awkwardly raising my hand with a thumbs-up gesture.
Slaughter? Plagues? Yeah, I can only reach a sole definitive conclusion.
Yes. This is it. This is love. I've gained consciousness for what, a few minutes? And I've already found the meaning of my life—
Concentrate! Even the pimp guy has more self-respect!
I slap my face. Again.
The sounds ring in my ears.
The woman of my lif— the woman giggles like a bitch, laughing at me while pointing at the tip of her pointy horn. Jokes on you, I'm into that shi—
A cherry book comes into existence. On its back cover sets an onyx moon and on its front carves a sun of the same gloss.
The book opens before her with countless empty pages, dusted and ancient.
So, she's the strongest? From the rainbowhead's ridiculous expressions, I can tell.
It's also possible he's deceiving us by his acting and that the size of the orb doesn't actually matter. But, for one, the rainbowhead looks fucking stupid, his intelligence at best matching the age you'd guess from his childish appearance.
Also, isn't there a saying that good things come in large packages?
I hope we make great allies. Forget about love. I never had any luck with it anyway. It's not like I ever had good luck with anything in particular.
Talking about luck…
I gaze at The Great Dao, hovering a foot away from me.
Come on, give me something good, wouldya? Eternity, destiny, rebirth—you get it. Something good. Please. Please…?
I would pray for luck if I could. It's moments like these that make me wish I were a believer.
Wrath Sin Chandra
Wrath? Well, that explains many things…
Chandra? Is that my name? Oh The Great Dao, bless this humble Chandra of yours with the power to withstand the many tribulations.
I look at it menacingly.
It hovers above me menacingly, looking down into my existence.
My intuition tells me, "Look, look, you're fucked at best."
To my surprise, The Great Dao farts a blue orb very similar to the time pathway fragment, not only in color but also in size.
The Fragment of the Luck Pathway
Luck? Guess I got lucky. In every conceivable way.
The fragment rushes and protrudes from the top lid of my left eye. It burns.
I feel warmth, my body recomposing in ways unbeknownst to me.
My nails lengthen, hardening and sharpening into claws, while my hair grows black, with occasional crimson strands reaching my shoulders.
Three horns are forming, turning backward at an extreme angle in a wide curve, goatlike or even ramlike. Two from the sides and one from the center.
Inside, I can feel my intuition sharpening further. I see the world in different lights. Not just the present but also fragments of the past and the future are present before me.
Is this how fortune tellers feel?
However, rather than fortune, what I'm instinctually inclined to feel is misfortune.
Louder and louder, the cries inside of me shrill and reintensify. I'm emitting a cold, sharp malice, my mind clouded by the pervasive desire to inflict suffering onto others.
To kill, to torture, to enslave. The desire to destroy, to spread dread, and I'm enamored by it.
This is not normal. Not human. How pathetic of me to let them affect my mind.
Anger issues are one thing, but this—this is insufferable. My mind is dictated by me and me alone. Not others. I can't let foreign desires control me.
The Archdemon of Luck,
The Lord of Devils,
Wrath Sin Chandra
Killing, torturing, or inflicting pain upon others in any capacity—I don't care. I never did. There was only me and those I treasured, and then there was the rest of the world.
However, now there's only me.
I don't remember those others. I don't even remember why I treasured those others.
Then, what does that make of me? Am I not just a… monster? An empty shell?
I don't have any goals in life. I don't have any pursuits in life. Rather, slight disappointment with the world and with me. Myself. Why so? How so?
Perhaps the key to understanding myself lies therein. Not without, but within. Inside of me.
Yes, if I remain oblivious to myself, the desires will one day inevitably prevail over me.
Then I won't know why I kill. I won't know why I live. I'll know nothing, living as a walking dead. With no self, no intent, no thought, and no thorough understanding.
The circular box with a kaleidoscope of colors and symbols disrupts my reflection by eventuating before me.
Tripartite Mandala
What the hell is this? What do I even do with it? It's like Pandora's box. You open it, and you either get the world's riches or straight up die.
Doesn't help that it looks like the real deal from the myths. Wait… what myths?
How do I remember that?
I can even remember the cost of living in modern Hong Kong, yet I can't reckon the face of anyone I knew.
The blonde drums the table, cheering. I look at her with a nod of approval.
Forget about the suffering and setbacks; what matters is that I have the potential to obtain the power to dye the world into my coloration.
Only the powerful have the privilege to decide whether to spare or kill, to die or live.
As such, I'll first need to guarantee my strength.
Yet, to my surprise and terror, healthy laughs of the rainbowhead pierce through the fog.
"Hahahaha!"
Immediately, I get a terrible premonition.
"I haven't witnessed anyone get that in all the previous iterations!"
What went wrong?
"With this, the first phase is concluded," he says funnily, his shoulders shaking and cheeks flush. "Exactly this time after a year, the Walpurgis Night will commence, where you'll compete amongst yourselves to recruit as many Demon Lords as you can into your faction."
"Before that, you must raise your respective dungeons, resisting the constant onslaught of people and monsters alike." He raises a hand to wipe away the tears of laughter.
"Some may even die in the process."
He looks at me with a smug face.
"That's all. Figure out the rest by yourselves."
The space fractures in the center once more, and The Great Dao leaves.
The next moment, various portals of varying colors appear on each throne belonging to an Archdemon.
The first to leave is the Pride Sin.
Without hesitation, the Envy Sin and the Greed Sin follow.
Sloth Sin lingers her gaze on me, sighing in exasperation and following suit.
Lust Sin sends the rainbowhead a kiss and winks suggestively, buckling back and teleporting.
Only the blonde and I remain beside the rainbowhead.
"What?" he asks.
The blonde points to her mouth.
"Fine, speak, tell what you will," the rainbowhead tiredly points at her, unsealing her voice.
"No cakes for you. I'll feed you your coc—" Before she can finish her words, she's forcefully plunged into the portal.
"And you?" the rainbowhead asks, pointing at me. "Must you also show your colors before departing?"
"What is wrong with what I got?" I ask with a questioning face, forcefully suppressing the anger welling within me.
"Oh?" The rainbowhead smiles, condescension flashing in his eyes. "Do you remember the gifts you've received?"
"Yes. The Hero's Curse and The Reverse Plot Armor—"
I still. It can't be…
His smile deepens. "For the sake of balance, among a few other curses, the Demon Lords have their luck halved. You realize now, don't you?"
I gulp, my throat dry.
He continues, "The Luck Pathway… Perhaps among all the other fragments you could get…"
"Luck is the unluckiest," I finish.
"Bingo!" He points with both fingers. "You're unusually smart for Wrath. Truly an exception among exceptions. Hahahaha!"
"Hahahahahahaha!" I, too, laugh.
The rainbowhead is the first to cease his laughs. "What's so funny?"
"You tell me," I say, raising my palm. "Because it's a sin to be wrathful at the world. Who can control fate? One can only plow its rivers."
"A strange one," he says, clasping his hands.
"A dumb one," I deadpan, pointing at his twitching expression.
Then everything goes dark.
Darkness so pure not a single ray of light can reach the bottomless pit of malice within.
Until I'm greeted by a tall green creature with shark teeth as sharp as the sword attempting on my life, held in their thin hand.
I should've known better than to spew shit at a deity…