The sky was surrounded and furnished with small red, yellow, blue stars. Nebulas bent into rings of fire and shadow. Two figures clashed above the quiet world.
Johan Graham and Lucifer, the Fallen righteous prince of Heaven.
Lucifer hovered in the smoke. His six dark-deep black wings bled molten light. "Still pretending you're holy, Johan?" he hissed. "I like beasts with manners."
Johan smirked. His green rune flickered beneath his left eye. "You're probably a ghost who never learned when to die."
The air trembled as Lucifer snapped his fingers. Black flames poured from his arms, crawling across the sky like liquid serpents. They hissed and coiled toward Johan. The world beneath them turned dim, colourless.
Johan raised one hand lazily and snapped.
A burst of blue fire surged around him wrapped with divinity. The flames didn't burn; they devoured light itself, erasing the black inferno like chalk wiped from slate.
Lucifer grinned, his fangs catching the lightning above. "Using tricks from the Heavens? How predictable."
Johan rolled his neck, his eyes narrowing. "Predictable stuff works when you're flawless."
Lucifer roared as the space itself began to shudder. A red symbol formed behind him, spinning. From it emerged a lance forged of unknown ore. It was black like a great nothing. He twirled it once, the pressure distorted the clouds and hurled it with divine wrath.
Johan vanished. The lance tore through the air and where it struck, space itself folded inward. A terrifying screaming sound came out of nowhere like the sky itself was mourning in pain. Everything in a light-second radius bent toward the point of impact, then snapped back, leaving only a crater of draining singularity.
Johan appeared above Lucifer.
"You missed."
He drove his fist down like a thunderclap, cracking Lucifer's jaw sideways. Black ichor burst and turned to dust before hitting the air. Lucifer retaliated instantly, slashing through reality with his claws. Each strike carried the weight of galaxies. Johan dodged effortlessly, mocking him with a half-smile.
"Slower than last time." he said. "Hell's been soft on you."
Lucifer's rage exploded. "Don't think you've won just because Heaven kissed your hand!"
Johan's rune gleamed bright green. "No. I win because you talk too much, broda."
He raised his hand, the rune expanding into a sigil that glowed brighter than the sun. For a split second, the sky looked normal and Johan crushed it with a single command.
The world flashed green.
Lucifer's body froze midair, his wings curling inward. His skin cracked open like porcelain. The black flames sputtered out, leaving nothing but silence and falling ash.
Johan stood over the corpse that began to dissolve into smoke. He adjusted his coat with cool voice.
"Don't take it personally, Luci. You were a good punching bag for me."
He turned away as Lucifer's remains scattered into starlight, the night sky reclaimed its calm.
The hall shimmered under the golden light of a hundred low lamps, their glow reflecting off the polished marble floor where the gamblers' footsteps echoed.
Tom, beneath his disguise sat at the edge of the audience zone with Harriet. Patiently waiting for his name to be called again. The atmosphere was heavier than before. The deeper they went into this underground gambling tournament,
The more the air seemed to thrum with tension and greed.
On the screen beside the ring, letters scrolled across in bright crimson:
[ SIXTH MATCH – D GROUP ]
[ Fon Reeze vs Albert Newton ]
Albert exhaled slowly, leaning back on the wooden bench. "Fon Reeze?" he murmured, letting the name roll over his tongue. "Never heard of her."
Harriet, lounging beside him in his crimson coat and fedora, scoffed. "You kidding? She's the first woman to ever reach semi-rounds in this pit. Probably sharper than most of the clowns we've seen. Unfortunately, this time she seems to fall back."
Albert didn't answer. He flicked his wrist and a translucent blue panel blinked open in front of him.
[ Menu ]
[ Leaderboard – D Group ]
[ 1. Gyro Regardo – 2 Points
2. Varn Okra – 1 Point
3. Albert Newton – 1 Point
4. Fon Reeze – 0 Points ]
Harriet peeked over his shoulder. "She's bottom, huh? Guess she's the desperate kind. That's when people get dangerous."
Albert tilted his hat lower, half hiding his eyes. "Desperate ones always are."
From the opposite end of the room, a soft hum of conversation rippled. A woman in a pale gray cloak entered the stage area. Her steps were measured, her expression almost ethereal.
Fon Reeze looked too gentle for a place like this. Long brown hair braided down her shoulder, eyes that carried no fear but something sadder. Her clothes were modest, stitched at the edges but clean. She looked like she'd come from a world far purer than the neon-drenched rot of Nayga's underground.
Harriet elbowed Albert lightly. "You sure you wanna go easy? Looks harmless, doesn't she?"
Albert didn't smile. "That is what worries me."
He watched her take her place in the circle, her hand hovering above the table's center where the next set of emotion cards were laid. A faint breeze rolled in through the side vents, carrying dust and chants of distant cheers from another ring.
The fifth match still raging somewhere deeper underground.
Harriet folded his arms, muttering, "I can't believe women are in this bloody league. It's like seeing angels brawling in the mud."
Albert's gaze stayed fixed on Fon. "That's exactly what they are, angels who got tired of watching."
The announcer's voice cut through the murmurs aloud,
"Next match—Fon Reeze versus Albert Newton. Prepare yourselves."
Albert rose from his chair, straightened his coat and stepped toward the light.
Harriet called after him, smirking. "Try not to flirt this time."
Albert didn't look back. "I'll try not to die first."
"Next match—The Sun's Touch. Let the rules be heard."
The crowd went silent. The disk-shaped arena above began to shimmer, unfolding into a metallic circle floating in darkness. All around it, thousands of golden portals opened, glowing like tiny suns. Their light filled the air with heat and dread.
"There are 10,000 portals," the announcer continued. "9,999 are fake, harmless illusions. But one leads to the real sun. Step into that one and you're gone in a single nanosecond."
A murmur swept through the spectators once again.
"The catch, none of the portals can be sensed. Every sixty seconds, the entire disk rotates at one-tenth the speed of light. Portals switch positions instantly. Each one looks, feels and even shifts gravity exactly the same."
The announcer paced along the platform, smirking.
"You may test the portals with finger, eye, tongue, whatever you choose. The fake ones will feel like a candle's warmth. The real one will erase what touches it."
Gasps followed, but he wasn't done.
"To calibrate your senses" he said, "each of you must lose at least three golds. Fail, and the house will chain you before a fake sun for one full hour. Your skin will burn, but you won't die."
The portals pulsed, humming softly.
"When both of you reach that point." the announcer raised his hand, "your mirror clone will appear. It knows everything you know. It has your same wounds. It believes it's you. And its only goal is to push you into the real sun."
A wave of silence fell.
"Every five minutes." he went on, "your souls will swap bodies. You might wake in your clone's skin with its injuries. Your clone might wake in yours."
"Kill your clone and it returns in thirty seconds. Missing another gold. Do it three times and a rune 'FALSE' will burn onto your chest. Step into any portal after that…"
The announcer grinned. "You'll vanish, no matter if it's fake or real."
The lights dimmed. The disk blazed gold.
The Sun's Touch had begun.
A deep hum rippled through the fog—the sound of ten thousand portals waking at once. Their golden rims pulsed like living veins, scattered across an infinite void of pale mist. There was no ground. Only the spooky fog and the glow.
Albert Newton stood in his gray trench coat, hat tilted low, squinting at the endless field of identical portals. Each shimmered with the same golden hue, indistinguishable, perfect in their deception. He exhaled slowly, the heat of the place clinging to his throat.
The announcer's voice came through the dimension.
"Each gold piece represents 1000 coins.… one chance. Spend wisely."
Albert looked down at his hand. A small pouch materialized. Nine coins of gold, each worth a thousand. Each one a life. He sighed.
"With this much." he muttered, "I could've eaten something good for once."
Across the fog, Fon Reeze stood composed and terrifyingly elegant. Her coat was deep violet, her hair white like pearl strands against the gloom. Her eyes, two faint lights of brownies, watched him without emotion. She didn't seem nervous at all.
Inside her mind, calm calculation stirred.
He's the kind of a guy who overthinks all day staring at the wall. Who waits for an opening that never comes. If I can read his hesitation, I can control the rhythm.
Fon examined the portals.
They all shimmer the same way…. but there's no true symmetry in nature. There must be one that falters for a fraction.
She lifted her hand, tossing a gold pouch toward the nearest portal. The gold hovered for a second, then melted like butter into light harmlessly. Fake sun.
Albert watched from a distance, noting her movements.
She's testing using mass variation. Smart. But she's wasting gold early.
He kneeled, reaching his gloved hand near one of the portals. The warmth kissed his fingertips. Harmless. Another fake.
The portals pulsed again. Switching positions in an instant. Every shimmer warped; their arrangement rearranged like cosmic static.
"The disk will rotate...." Albert whispered. "..... sixty seconds…"
Fon frowned. "That means nothing we test now matters later."
They exchanged a look across the fog. Two silhouettes against ten thousand lights.
Fon's mind sharpened.
If testing doesn't matter, then observation does. These portals mimic light but light can't mimic memory. She closed her eyes, sensing the rhythm between each pulse, memorizing the diversion between them.
Albert stepped closer to another portal, flipping a gold in his hand. It glowed faintly. He smiled bitterly.
"Guess I'll gamble again." He flicked the gold watched it vanish.
Another fake.
The fog thickened. Somewhere far away, the portals began humming louder, resonating like organs in a cathedral. The next rotation was coming.
She reached out toward one faintly trembling portal hesitating. Albert, meters away, did the same.
Neither could tell if they were walking toward the real sun.... or straight into nothingness.