As she spoke, Jibril reached into her small wings and pulled out a translucent hexagonal crystal. It pulsed with the distinct, playful aura of Tet.
"What's this?" Sū ěr asked, tilting his head.
"No idea. Tet locked it—said only you can open it," Jibril replied, casually tossing the crystal to him.
Sū ěr signaled Think with a look, and she helped him prop himself up against the headboard. She, too, was curious about what the God of Play—the deity born right before their eyes—had to say.
The moment the crystal touched Sū ěr hand, the static object came alive. It emitted a soft cyan glow, and its surfaces began to shift and rotate like a piece of high-precision clockwork following a pre-programmed path.
"Wait." Think suddenly reached out, hovering her hand over the crystal. She glanced at the vampire huddling in the corner. With a flick of her wrist, a green curtain of light shimmered into existence, completely isolating the vampire from the group. Sound and vision were cut off instantly.
Kiss-shot remained as still as a statue. She looked up briefly at the barrier, then lowered her head again, unresponsive.
"Alright. Continue."
The crystal, which had paused for a beat, resumed its unfolding. In seconds, it transformed into... a stage?
It was a miniature stage, complete with red curtains pulled back on either side, resembling a professional theater. The "actors" on stage were easy to identify.
One was a massive, imposing figure with wings of light tucked behind his back. Even in miniature form, his eyes radiated a golden, piercing light—enhanced by tiny, dramatic streaks of glowing particles.
Sū ěr recognized him instantly: Artosh, the God of War, seated upon his throne. Facing him was another "actor" Sū ěr knew even better.
Despite the tiny scale, the details were exquisite. Every Flügel's halo was unique, and this one captured the specific, complex geometry of Jibril perfectly.
However, the Jibril on this stage looked to be in absolute agony. Though Flügel don't experience human physiological issues like cramps, she was prostrated on the floor, trembling. Her voice, unlike the childish tone of her current body, sounded heavy and suppressed, laden with secret emotions.
[I have grown weak... my Lord.]
BOOM!!!
Something exploded—not the stage, but the real Jibril, who had been sitting bored at the dining table.
She had been looking around the room with feigned indifference, but at that first line, she vanished and reappeared instantly in front of Sū ěr. Her small hand swept down to snatch the stage away, but Sū ěr, despite his extreme weakness, seemed to tap into some hidden reservoir of adrenaline. He dodged her hand with startling speed.
The sudden burst of movement made Sū ěr vision swim, but he realized one thing: if Jibril took this now, he'd likely never know what was inside for the rest of his life.
I cannot allow that future!
Sū ěr gaze hardened. He had dodged once, but at this range, Jibril could strike again in a microsecond. But he had an ace up his sleeve.
"Think!"
The bed beneath them lost its structural integrity as Think manipulated the space. Sū ěr was pulled behind her in a blur. Meanwhile, the miniature stage in Sū ěr hand continued to broadcast the conversation between Jibril and Artosh.
Curiosity, grief, sorrow—the voices were thick with concentrated emotion. Hearing them, Jibril went into a total frenzy. Sū ěr only had time to shout one thing before the chaos consumed the room: "Don't wreck the apartment!"
FLASH!
In mere seconds, Jibril became a strobe light of pink and white. She flickered around Sū ěr—above, below, left, right—moving so fast her form blurred into a dancing sphere of light. White feathers of pure energy drifted through the air, only to be pulverized by the sonic booms of their movements before they could even hit the floor.
Think was going all out.
She had already realized what was being performed on that stage. This was the "gift" from the God of Games. The best gift.
Well played, Tet! Think praised him inwardly. But accepting the gift was a battle of its own.
By the name of Nirvalen, I will record every single second of this!!!
She bit her lip hard. Her translucent energy body didn't feel pain naturally, but she forced the sensation to keep her focus sharp.
"Eight-Fold Spell—OPEN!!"
A pale green barrier walled off Kiss-shot in her corner. Though the vampire had no intention of moving, the sight of the room outside the barrier—now looking like it was caught in the center of a localized tornado—made her eyes widen.
She couldn't hear the voices, but she could see the "monsters" in the room moving so fast they left persistent afterimages. The room was being held together by the barest minimum of structural magic, but everything inside was trashed. Chairs were overturned, cups were scattered; it looked like a ransacked ruin.
Unlike Sū ěr and Think, who were driven by curiosity, Jibril knew exactly what was coming next if the play continued. That was the one thing she could not allow to happen.
She was fighting for her life.