"Ahahahaha… that's a good one, oh my, oh my goodness, did I really do that? puhahaha this shit is hilarious, seriously I should really make use of this ability more"
A laughter reverberated within an empty space.
The room was spacious, its aesthetics were almost the same as a cathedral, only one much desolate and darker.
Here, the only light came from the pale moon, its silver glow bleeding through the cathedral's hollow ribs.
The marbled floors closely resembled a chess board, just looking at it made Azazel nostalgic, how long has it been since he saw one? He couldn't tell.
And speaking of Azazel.
Strapped atop an elevated platform in the cathedral was a redhead suspended by several chains.
He was bound by a straitjacket designed to restrict any movement.
After all Azazel had the ability to escape if he had a coin and a bit of chance to move his hands.
His hair looked disheveled and long, his mouth had bandages over it, it was still surprising how he even managed to talk.
Floating before him was a black longsword forged out of a glassy obsidian material.
Its pommel had gold accents, reminiscent of a certain blade.
One Azazel had seen so many times within the game.
"Say… I've been meaning to ask, "You're Sol aren't you?"
The sword hummed slightly, its blade glinting with a pale light.
"Curious aren't you? But why should I tell you that?"
Azazel snorted.
"Oh come on will ya, give me a bit of excitement, it's not easy being strapped like an asylum escapee in an empty room."
The sword shook a bit.
"Why should I? I for one enjoy your company. You ramble the strangest things mortal sadly I can't reciprocate the gesture."
Azazel couldn't help but laugh, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You flatter me but you know for a scrap of steel you're surprisingly a good company, most of the times, at least when you're not trying to torture me."
The sword spun in dark excitement.
"Huhuhu… it's not my fault you're highly resilient, even after witnessing all those failed scenarios you still haven't lost your mind yet."
It moved closer towards Azazel whose eyes were narrowed into slits.
"Oh! No that's not it, you are broken but your madness is as still as a stagnant river, what an incredible mental fortitude." it mused.
Azazel fell silent, his gaze darkened.
Since his trial began, every moment had been a test of his sanity.
In the beginning he had questioned multiple times if the torture was actually a part of his trial or if the sword was merely enjoying his plight, but he knew better.
It had never been about the trial, the sword was trying to break him, trying to get him to lose his will and then…
Take over his body.
He'd already arrived at the conclusion that this very blade was Sol, one of the most powerful relics of the gods comparable to Zeus's lightning and Kretus's Apeiron.
The similarities were clear, in all honesty it was basically the same blade, just dark in color.
The same blade that once answered to Elias beneath the sun and the only blade whose ability could multiply exponentially when used in its presence now stood before him as a corrupted relic, one which had lost its way.
The longsword just like its name suggested was tainted and a corrupted weapon didn't form bonds with its wielder, it devoured them, then used their body as its vessel.
Azazel could only chuckle in disbelief.
Who'd have thought that the blade of radiance could ever be tainted so bad it even became a sadist.
"You know I can hear you right?" It said,
Azazel laughed loudly, his voice echoed in the empty cathedral like the howls of a madman.
"Yesss, yess I know you can hear some of my thoughts… and I know, you know that I know that you're Sol, and you know that I know that you know that denying it is useless, so tell me oh mighty relic of Amun Rá, how did you fall into corruption? Come on… I'm curious, indulge me."
The blade sighed in exasperation.
"You've really gone mad."
Azazel scoffed.
"Took you long enough Sherlocks."
"Sherlocks? I don't recall that name."
"Of course you don't, it's not exactly… common in this world."
The blade thrummed aggressively, its tone however was calm.
"Once again your knowledge about us baffles me, we're not topics to be discussed by mortal tongues, especially the corrupted, you shouldn't know about it unless you're a seer or a priest."
Azazel shrugged, a crude imitation at best since he was strapped and restricted.
"Well I guess I'm just special."
Azazel opened one of his eyes.
A red hue with demonic patterns replaced his vibrant green ones, glowing with unholy radiance in the dark interior of the cathedral.
"Pierce my heart." He commanded with a whisper.
The sword moved, hovering only a few inches from the throat of the strapped redhead.
"Careful mortal." It warned, "The next time you use that abominable skill on me I shall resort to physical torture, and believe me the scars will burn deep."
Azazel gasped.
"Ooohh scary." He taunted.
The sword slowly inched away then circled him.
"What a troublesome ability that demon left you."
Azazel tilted his neck slightly.
"Isn't it convenient? I guess I'll have to kill Asmodeus in the real world too, its too useful an ability to let go."
His eyes glinted with madness.
"The ability to manipulate anyone like a marionette."
The sword hummed.
"I see, so that's how you've been able to influence the others despite being locked up in here like a heretic."
Azazel's gaze darkened at the mention of the others.
When he was sent into the trial, it felt no different than his reality.
He used his knowledge to navigate the story, guide the main characters towards the right part and make them stronger but the more he fixed the more the story broke.
His interference only made it worse and in the end he had not only managed to trigger one bad ending, he had triggered twelve.
His family was massacred by the demons, his brother Nathan was possessed by a devil and was used to open the gateway.
Key figures betrayed the main cast and he… consumed by grief lost himself to madness, he slaughtered the devil Asmodeus, killed all important figures who had betrayed them, committed massacre on a grandscale just to eradicate the demons which mingled among humans.
In the end he was judged to be unstable and was locked away in a forbidden zone, sealed away from liefher in a separate dimension.
Even the strap jacket used to hold him down was no ordinary one, it was an enchanted one which repelled his use of chaos.
With the use of a high rank skill however, he had been able to manipulate the actions of the other characters to his desired expectation.
Why play nice when you could move anyone like a chess piece? The skill was extremely overpowered but most overpowered skills came with a cost.
He had to pay a price each time he used in, although thanks to his infamy he had gathered enough divinity to spare.
Azazel snorted.
"Hah… I am indeed a heretic but you know better don't you? The gods are dead in this fantasy, so why should I believe in them?"
The sword lingered for a moment, then it spoke with a seriousness Azazel had never heard from it before.
"You asked what tainted me, a divine relic of the sun god made to oppose darkness, unfortunately my time with you is coming to an end, that whimsical keeper will notice my intervention soon enough."
It paused, then aimed the tip of its blade towards Azazel.
"This will be the final trial and our confrontation, by the end of it, I will devour you and take your body. If you can handle the scenarios I'm about to show you then you will have the answer to your question but it'll be useless, since you'll eventually be swallowed by me"
Azazel sneered.
"Quit the rambles and get on with it."
The blade hissed.
"Foolish mortal, let's see how you manage to remain sane when you see it, the outcome of the final war in the first reality."
The words hit Azazel like a train.
The first reality, the final war.
A lot of things instantly became clear to him.
The princess words once again echoed within his mind.
Who possessed the body this time.
What if it wasn't him she'd met but a different Azazel and what if it wasn't this timeline but another?
The thoughts grew frantic, different theories stirred up in his head but before he could dwell on it, he felt the cold steel of the dark blade bite into his skin.
The sword spoke again, this time its voice was laced with dark amusement.
"My name is akathartos the tainted sun, be honored mortal, you shall become my vessel."
Such were the last words Azazel heard before his world went dark.