Genesis stood at the threshold of the storage room, his hand resting on the doorknob.
He was ready to leave, to face whatever fresh horrors this twisted mansion had in store.
But something made him pause.
He turned, his eyes landing on Hosea.
She was leaning against a shelf, her arms crossed, a faraway look in her eyes.
"Hosea," Genesis said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. "Before we go, I think we need to talk."
Hosea's gaze snapped to him, her brow furrowing. "About what?"
Genesis let the door swing shut, the latch clicking loudly in the quiet room. He took a step towards her. "About everything. What you've been through, what you know, what we're up against."
Hosea's posture stiffened. "I don't see how that matters now. We've got a job to do."
Genesis shook his head. "It matters.
If we're going to work together, if we're going to trust each other, we need to lay it all out on the table."
Hosea was silent for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, she pushed off from the shelf. "Fine. You want to talk, let's talk."
Genesis nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're back. I know it couldn't have been easy, what you went through out there."
Hosea's laugh was harsh. "Understatement of the century.
Got stabbed, died, woke up with a one-track mind to kill Pierre.
Or Beelzebub, I should say. That's what the demoness wants."
Genesis's eyebrows shot up. "The demoness?"
Hosea wandered over to a dusty crate and perched on the edge. "My boss, I guess you could say. She's the one who put me here, one of her chosen five.
We're supposed to be honing our skills, learning to use these 'gifts' she gave us.
All to help her and her primordial friends take over everything - Inferno, Purgatorio, Terra, Paradisio.
The whole shebang."
"She had everything planned until one of the princes of hell decided to ruin her plans," she admitted, her voice tinged with a grave urgency.
"If I don't banish him back to Hell, I will be severely punished by her—a fate far worse than death itself."
A flicker of something akin to amusement crossed Genesis's features.
His eyes, for a brief second, bore a devious glint, only to return to their usual grimace. "Interesting," he mused, breaking the tension. "I was sure there was someone watching the process, but I thought it was the mansion staff.
So, it is you, Hosea, the general of this culling game.
Impressive."
Hosea then said while wearing a visible frown." My job was simple —to monitor the culling games where tourists' souls would be harvested by The Contraption in the end.
But of course, a PRINCE of hell itself had to join the party..."
Genesis frowned. "If I may ask, what is this contraption?"
Hosea's fingers drummed on the crate. "A tool.
It is an odd machinery that can turn a soul from its metaphysical unpalpable shape into something material.
A white, shiny liquid, slimy a bit, which makes the soul easier to be stored or consumed.
It is a machine created by The Taleteller, but that is a story for another time."
"Beelzebub," Genesis said.
Hosea nodded. "Bingo. And now, if I don't take him out, if I don't drag his sorry ass back to the demoness, well..." She trailed off, a haunted look in her eyes. "Let's just say there are worse things than death."
They looked at each other, a newfound understanding passing between them.
They were in this together now, for better or worse.
Genesis broke the moment, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know, when this is all over, when we've sent Beelzebub packing, we're gonna have to have a chat about these souls you're planning on stealing."
Hosea snorted. "That so?"
"Yeah. The innocent ones, the ones that can still be saved?
They're off-limits. Non-negotiable."
Hosea held up her hands. "Hey, one world-ending crisis at a time, okay?
Let's focus on the task at hand."
Genesis chuckled. "Fair enough. But I'm holding you to that."
Hosea rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile there. "You're a real piece of work, you know that Genesis?"
"So I've been told. But you're stuck with me now, General."
"Lord help me," Hosea muttered, but there was no real bite to it.
"First, we have to vanquish The Prince Of Flies.
And most of you don't know this, but there are five abyssal gift holders, and there are only four in this room, so we can assume that maybe this abyssal gift holder is being controlled by Beelzebub."
Genesis, however, countered this assumption with a revelation of his own. "Actually not, I am the last abyssal gift holder.
I have hidden the fact that I am one just because no one would believe a father, a supposedly holy presence, to be tainted by demonic influence.
I did what I had to do, and now I am cursed with an abyssal ability."
Genesis's revelation hung in the air, a heavy silence settling over the storage room.
Hosea stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly agape.
The father, the supposed beacon of holiness, an abyssal gift holder?
It was almost too much to process.
Genesis met her gaze steadily, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Surprised?"
Hosea blinked, shaking her head as if to clear it. "I... yeah. I mean, a priest with a demonic curse? Not exactly something you hear every day."
Genesis chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Believe me, it's not something I asked for. But in this place, you do what you have to do to survive.
Even if it means getting your hands dirty."
Hosea nodded slowly, understanding dawning on her face. "So that's why you've been able to keep up, to hold your own against these games without succumbing to Calamity.
You've got a little hell in you too."
Genesis's smile turned bitter. "More than a little. But it's not like I can use it.
Doesn't exactly jive with the whole 'holy man' thing, you know?"
Hosea leaned back against a shelf, crossing her arms. "Still, it's a hell of an ace up your sleeve. Literally."
Genesis shrugged. "Much good it does me. It's there, but it's useless.
A curse I can't tap into, a 'gift' I can't use."
Hosea was quiet for a moment, considering this. Then, "You know, I thought it was the demoness who brought us back.
After we died, I mean. Thought she wasn't done with us yet, so she hit the reset button."
Genesis shook his head. "No, that's not it. This is something different. Something I've heard about, read about in some of the more… obscure texts."
Hosea raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."
Genesis began to pace, his footsteps echoing in the confined space. "It's called Renascentia terrae.
The fertile soil.
When a place has seen enough bloodshed, enough innocent lives lost, it changes.
The soil becomes… different.
Charged with a power, a curse, call it what you will.
This phenomenon was noticed first in the Mayan era where so many innocent blood was shed as a sacrifice to their pagan gods.
This was performed in many other places throughout the years of human existence."
Hosea's brow furrowed. "Okay, but what does that have to do with us?"
Genesis stopped, turning to face her. "Everything. Think about it, Hosea.
The basement of this mansion, how many slaves have died there? How much blood has been spilled, how many bodies buried? It's the perfect breeding ground for Renascentia terrae."
Hosea's eyes widened. "So, when we died, when we were buried there…"
Genesis nodded. "We were reborn. Not because of the demoness, but because of the soil. Because of our own will, our own burning desire to come back.
For revenge, for redemption, to right wrongs, doesn't matter.
As long as that passion is strong enough, the soil will grant you another chance."
Hosea was silent, absorbing this.
It was a lot to take in - the truth of their resurrection, the power of the cursed earth beneath their feet.
Genesis watched her, gauging her reaction. "I know it's a lot. Believe me,
I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself.
I never thought I would witness the fertile soil and its ressurective abilities firsthand.
But the important thing is, we're here.
We're alive. And we've got a job to do."
Hosea met his gaze, a steely determination settling over her features. "You're right. Beelzebub's not going to take himself out.
And we can't let him get his hands on any more souls."
Genesis nodded, a grim smile on his face. "Exactly. We've been given a second chance, Hosea.
Let's not waste it."
Hosea pushed off from the shelf, uncrossing her arms. "So, what's our play? We can't just go in guns blazing, not against a Prince of Hell."
Genesis resumed his pacing, his mind whirring. "I have a plan, don't worry."
Hosea nodded. "But Genesis, even with all of us, even with our 'gifts', this is gonna be one hell of a fight. We might not all make it out the other side."
Genesis stopped, turning to face her fully. "I know.
But it's a risk we have to take.
For the souls at stake, for the innocent lives on the line, we have to try.
Even if it means sacrificing ourselves in the process."
Hosea was quiet for a long moment, searching his face.
Then, slowly, she nodded. "Okay. I'm in. Let's send this bastard back to the pit he crawled out of."
Genesis grinned, clapping her on the shoulder. "That's the spirit.
We might be damned, but at least we'll go down fighting."
Hosea rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "That's one word for it."
The moment of levity passed, the weight of their task settling back over them like a shroud. They had a long road ahead, a battle that would test them in ways they'd never been tested before. But Genesis had a wicked plan.
Will this devious plan of his succeed against a Prince of Hell?
Genesis took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. "Alright, enough standing around. We've got work to do.
Let's deceive one of the deceivers ."
Hosea nodded, a fierce light in her eyes. "Lead the way, Father.
Time to show these demons what happens when they mess with the wrong souls."
Together, The five Abyssaly Gifted allies strode towards the door, weapons at the ready, hearts steeled for the fight ahead.
They were an unlikely team- a priest with a demonic curse, a general of a twisted game, an old sinner with the vision of Horus, a twisted psychopath with a traumatizing past and a mysterious figure with the Devil's footprints.
But they were united in their cause, bound by the power of the cursed soil that had brought them back.
They didn't know what horrors awaited them.
They didn't know if they'd live to see another day.
But one thing was certain - they would not go quietly into the night.
They would rage, they would battle, they would fight until their last breath.
For in this haunted mansion, in this twisted game of souls and demons, there could be no surrender.
There could be no retreat.
There could only be victory...or eternal damnation.
And by God, they were going to make sure it was the former. Even if it killed them.
Again.