Water droplets echoed through the vast hallway.
At their source stood a man, cloaked in a golden robe embroidered with emerald thread—so gaudy it practically screamed, "I'm rich, but I have no taste."
His humming reverberated off the towering golden pillars.
With each step, his wet footprints marred the silver floor.
His eyes gleamed, bright as twin suns, yet carried something unsettling beneath the warmth.
And his smile, too wide,was the kind that made parents instinctively pull their children closer.
Behind him, the voice of bone, twitching and swiping, can be heard.
A skeleton follows the swiping of the silver floor, removing the market he left behind.
His clothes are trying their best to stick to a body with no flesh
The cloth was mismatched mach of expensive cloth, trying to look like that of bluter.He worked lifelessly.
Dame, what a miserable way to spent your after life.
Serving a boss with this taste chills me to the bone. Get it
,but hey, maybe it is not that bad
anyway, let's get back to the story
The robed figure keeps stopping every couple and staring at the glass container with a priceless artifact inside in such a way that the poor relic is feeling violated
As the skeleton stares at him with dead eyes
His dead eyes betray no emotion,but we both know what he is feeling
After what felt like an eternity, the clocked figure made it to the door It had a beautiful dark obsidian design with gold decorations, a true work of an artist
So much like it felt like an oddity in this place, it would probably be the adopted one.
The door that seems to have a weight of a ton is pushed with absolute ease
Revealing room
As the door creaked open, letting throw a strong
A strong aroma of ink passed through the door ,sharp and metallic,like that of old maps left too long to the air's mercy
A chill runs through him, even without looking at the cold floor. His feet somehow manage the impossible feat of developing a new sense, letting him know the floor is now gold. His greed transcends and becomes something biological. Someone save this world before it's too late—or maybe he's just delusional. Who's to say?
In the depths of a dark, shadowy room, lit only by two struggling lights that seem to defy fate, as if making a statement to their owners, a solitary figure sits before an expansive wooden table. On it lies a labyrinth of maps, marked up as if speaking of plans on the brink of completion. The figure is quite comfortable, a small, contented smile playing on her lips as she brings a cup of dark liquid to her mouth, tracing the marks and the well-worn path between them with her ink-stained hand. The air is rich with the familiar scents of ink, parchment, and plotting.
Her blue eyes are filled with unspoken plans, a dangerous hunger gleaming within them. Yet, when they glance at the cloaked figure, the hunger is buried, replaced by stillness with just a hint of warmth inside. Where there was once distance, now there is something more.
Her ink-stained hand points at a second cup next to her.
His pupils shake as he stares at the mug, as if wary of it. "Please don't be what I think it is. Please let it be chocolate."
She doesn't raise her voice; it isn't worth the effort. Her gaze remains unchanging. Her hand starts tapping on the table. Her voice is quiet and clear, leaving no room for reply.
"Drink it."
As his face contorts in disgust, he moves his head, and the robe gives way to reveal two fox ears covered by wet hair.
Her gaze shifts to them.
As her hand sneakily tried to touch them
They were stopped with an angry look as if it was his way , his angry gaze declared his revenge
Her eyes sank down
" little foxy"
"It is Billy," he retorts, annoyed
"And if you stop your injustice toward me,then maybe you can touch it."he moves his hand as a protest against injustice
She had already stopped gazing in his direction and proceeded to ignore him after he stopped her hand
Yes indeed, she was barely listening to him , yeah it was a tragedy for poor Billy
It's a common tragedy for little Billy here
"So how is something,any setback, desters ,problems,"he forces himself to drink coffee and gives a silent cry he deep down wants to give ,
He then puts it down and stares at her eyes
"No, everything is fine," a nonchalant voice replied, a hint of deep emotion hidden behind those words noticeable,but not decipherable
He sighs as he drinks
"You know I heard the sea in Gran, looks quite beautiful this time of year," he says with a bit of sparkle as if it's in an ad, he even used a spell that gave out black fireworks
"I am not going to live in hiding." An emotionless response was all he got
"Why are you saying that all of a sudden?"
Billy hurt from accusations stands and moves a bit backwards as he falls slowly from the pain of it
"Your ability to hint at things is terrible,foxy."
"Never pretended like I was"Waving his hand as he draws his terrible performance to close
"It just ,so many this time ,and none of them are easy targets ,and we have everything we want."
"Yet most of those who see our face don't live to tell the tale"
"We are building something here ,and we are so close."
"Fine ,we both knew how this conversation was going to end, I just thought there could be more to do for both of us."
"We both know where you are employed, we go well, end we, oh we both know very well, don't we?"
"After this, we will have power to..."
She sigh
"We both know how that ends."
In an instant, the room erupted into chaos. A deafening blast shattered the rhythm of the conversation as a blinding flash overwhelmed the darkness ignited from behind the wall , sending a shockwave of heat and force ripping outward ,the wall shattered,as chunks of plaster and stone exploded into the air,
They looked at the chaos as they stared with disbelief in a moment of peace before hell reach them .A flash later, they both
Lucy light like doll, was thrown along with her torn to shreds
As if to reflect the fate of her work alongside hers
,but she somehow like always survived, managing to hold on to a sliver of life
The devil wasn't holding his position with a broken arm started at the source
Of explosion as if demanding as if certifying this will not end, he survived and he will survive
Then, as an answer. It happened again, again, again
As if a paranoid soul is trying to make sure nothing is left behind
And a dense cloud of dust and debris filled the air itself, obscuring what once was familiar, as the air vibrated with the fury of the explosion, leaving a lingering taste of ash