The flicker of green firelight danced across the Envy leader's pale features. She sat cross-legged on a low, twisted throne of roots, her subordinates kneeling in a half-circle before her. The air was silent but tense — every breath held, every rustle of cloth deliberate. They were waiting for her words.
Her gaze, however, was far away.
In her mind's eye, she saw him — that boy from earlier. The lone one. Moving through the warped landscape with a steady, unhurried stride, eyes sharp, posture ready to strike. A wolf without a pack… yet somehow more dangerous because of it.
Her lips curved faintly.
(So… that's Wrath's little stray?)
She imagined him among a crowd — and saw the crowd fall. She imagined him fighting — and saw the aftermath dripping in red. He wasn't just strong… he was dangerous.
"…Hmm…" A soft hum slipped past her lips.
Several heads tilted. No one dared speak.
"…Nice idea…" she whispered, as if to herself — though the words were enough to ripple unease among the gathered.
Her eyes sharpened, snapping back to the present.
"You two," she said, pointing lazily at a pair of her best shadows. They stepped forward without hesitation.
"You will go to Wrath. Blend in. Be invisible." Her tone was smooth as silk, but underneath was steel. "When the moment comes — when the Wrath leader passes your way — you will speak. Only once. Only what I tell you."
They nodded, awaiting the words.
"say", she said, her voice dipping low, "that the boy named Bjorn seeks to take his place… that he is gathering soldiers in secret."
The chosen two bowed deeply, masks of obedience hiding the quiet thrill in their eyes.
The Envy leader leaned back into her throne, expression unreadable. The firelight caught her grin — sharp, knowing.
(Let them eat each other alive…)
The sound of dripping fades.
Then—
CLANG!!
The world snaps back into chaos. The Wrath leader's massive fist swings through the air, missing Bjorn by a hair. Bjorn ducks low, the ground cracking where the blow lands.
Lucien is already moving, sliding into the gap, his strikes sharp and surgical. A knee to the ribs. An elbow to the jaw. Wrath staggers—but only for a second. He swats Lucien away like an insect.
Before the Wrath leader can follow up, a blur cuts in from the side—Envy. He moves like smoke, weaving between Bjorn and Lucien's footing, landing a sudden hook to Bjorn's ribs before melting away again.
Bjorn snarls, lunging after him—only to be forced back as Wrath's shadow falls over them both. Lucien steps in, parrying Wrath's grab, and for a heartbeat, their movements overlap—Bjorn's brutal elbows and Lucien's surgical strikes working in unintentional sync.
But this isn't alliance—just survival.
Every swing is meant to kill, no matter who gets in the way.
---
Background Chaos
The fight beyond them rages like a different kind of storm.
Lust's leader twirls her twin hammers with eerie grace, the air whistling before each impact. One strike sends splinters flying from a shattered log.
Sloth's leader moves lazily, almost yawning mid-swing, but when his fists land, they land like falling boulders—with precision hidden beneath deceptive slowness.
Greed's leader wields a scarred wooden bat, chipping bark off trees with each swing, forcing Lust back a step at a time.
Blows crash, dirt sprays, and the air is thick with the sound of grunts and steel-on-wood impacts.
---
Wrath roars, charging again—forcing Bjorn and Lucien to split. Wrath grabs envy by the hand then threw her towards sloth.
---
Sloth didn't even turn his head as Envy came hurtling toward him.
Only when her shadow fell over him did he sigh, tilting his body just enough to let her sail past — one hand flicking out lazily.
WHAM!
The touch wasn't even full force, yet the shockwave cracked the ground beneath them, redirecting her into a roll that kept her clear of Lust's swinging hammers.
Sloth yawned.
"Don't throw trash my way," he muttered, eyes already drifting half-shut again.
There's no order here.
No alliances.
Just the raw, savage truth of a battle where every second could be your last.
Envy and Greed stand across from Sloth and Lust. The four circle each other in the churned mud, keeping just out of reach. The roars and clashes of the other leaders fade into a dull, distant thunder.
Flashback — muted colors, the night before
Two of Envy's members kneel before their leader. Their armor has been altered — gold accents dulled, insignia replaced with the purple-and-silver of Lust.
Envy (calm, with a predator's smile):
"You will find the girl — Aira. She belongs to Sloth. You will touch her. Humiliate her. Make her fight back… and make sure you bleed enough for Lust to come looking for revenge."
Cut to —
Aira's hands trembling, stabbing one attacker in blind panic whil the other screams in pain. In the shadows, Envy watches, her smirk curling. In the distance, Lust's leader storms toward Sloth's camp, rage already ignite.
Back to the present —
Sloth's leader tilts his head, slow and deliberate, eyes never leaving Envy.
Lust's grip tightens on her dual weapons until the leather creaks, her glare boring into Greed.
Envy leans toward Greed, voice a silk thread only he can hear:
Envy (whispering): "Nothing tastes sweeter than a war you don't have to fight yourself."
They move.
Sloth lunges first — his supposed laziness vanishing in a blur — a low, sweeping kick aimed to break Greed's legs.
Lust surges forward, spinning her weapons in a storm of steel toward Envy's throat.
Greed laughs — the sound sharp, hungry — and meets Sloth's kick with a brutal downward swing of his bat, splintering the ground.
Envy pivots just shy of Lust's strike, her fingertips grazing the air by the weapon's edge, eyes glittering.
The four collide at once —
Metal screams against wood, sparks hissing in the rain-soaked dirt.
A shockwave rips through them, scattering mud and water in a perfect circle.
Somewhere in the distance, the battlefield grows louder — not from the war outside, but from the war these four just started.
To be continued