"Narkhazul," he said.
The moment the word left his lips, I felt it—an odd vibration echoing through my very soul. It wasn't a sound. It wasn't even a sensation in the usual sense. Just... something unsettling.
"That is the realm you'll be sent to this time," he said calmly.
I arched a brow. "...What exactly is Narkhazul?"
As I spoke, his eyes—those eyes that seemed to house the entire cosmos—locked onto me with unsettling intensity. In that moment, I felt a shift.
The world around me hadn't changed. Not visibly, at least.
But something in my immediate reality did.
I couldn't sense it with my mind, or see it with my eyes. But I felt it.
… Yeah, that sounds ridiculous.
I sighed quietly.
I don't even understand myself anymore.
"Narkhazul," he said again.
And this time, as the word left his mouth, a strange fountain of energy shimmered into existence between us—light bending unnaturally as it rose into the air, swirling and compressing until it took the shape of a sphere.
No... not just a sphere.
A planet.
"It is a realm governed by the Vhal'Zureths," he continued. "A sacred part of their dominion, dedicated to... their amusement. In this realm, souls lost in eternal limbo are drawn together to partake in what they deem a 'game.' A battle royale, as they call it."
Though his voice remained neutral, I saw it in his eyes.
Disdain. Pure, cold disdain.
I didn't care about the Vhal'Zureths. Or their twisted games. Or even the concept of another realm.
There was only one thing I needed to know.
"What exactly am I meant to do there?"
He stared at me in silence for a heartbeat. Maybe longer.
"Survive," he finally said.
I frowned. Of course. That word again.
Survival.
Always survival.
"So let me get this straight," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You're sending me to a completely different realm—probably one beyond even your jurisdiction—and for what? What's the real reason?"
He raised a hand, and as he did, the image of the planet expanded, floating higher until I could see deeper into its surface. Cities. Desolate lands. Massive arenas.
"A new Game is about to begin," he said, voice reverberating. "Stray souls are already being gathered. You will be one of them. You will descend to Narkhazul in the form of a stray. Your task is to survive three Trials. If you succeed, the system will acknowledge you as a Player. Then, you will be synchronized with the Will of the World—what they call the Votmox System."
His tone shifted then—barely, but I caught it.
"Once that synchronization is complete, you will be removed from that realm... and your true mission will begin."
That phrasing.
True mission.
I latched onto it immediately.
"Wait. What do you mean true mission? I thought surviving the Trials was the key to erasing my karmic debt. What exactly do you mean?"
He didn't answer.
He simply stared.
Cold. Silent. Distant.
"I see no reason to indulge your curiosity," he said at last. "I am under no obligation to assist the damned. Refuse my offer, and you will be cast into the Nether Realm."
Ah. There it is.
A threat.
I scoffed under my breath.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't expect it.
From the moment he mentioned he could absolve my karmic debt, I knew there'd be strings attached. There always are.
He makes it seem like I have a "choice." But this? This wasn't a choice.
Refuse, and I get thrown into eternal damnation. Accept, and I play his little game in hopes of clearing my debt. It's a rigged offer.
There is no choice.
So in the end...
I can either do it willingly now.
Or become a slave later.
"….What are the trails?" I asked.
Might as well get it over with.
If there's even the slightest chance I could escape this torment—this endless cycle that binds me—then I'll take it. Even if the price is steep, even if the pain that follows is unlike anything I've ever known… I'll still do it.
Because in the end, it's still a billion times better than repeating a rigged cycle I never had a chance of winning to begin with.
The Devices of Fate? They're a scam.
A massive one.
So long as the Fates choose to despise someone, no amount of repentance through the Devices of Fate will save them. It's impossible to win a game designed for your failure. The more you try to atone, the more they torment you, layering pain upon pain, forcing you to accumulate even greater karmic debt until there's no hope left. And then?
You're cast into eternal torment.
Maybe I should never have agreed to the Keeper's terms in the first place. Maybe I should've resisted from the very beginning. But it's too late now. The moment I said yes, I was doomed.
"The trials are never the same," he said, his voice steady, but distant. "They change with every game. The second and third trials are centered around the mind of the player. The first, however… is mostly a bloodbath. Battles against other stray souls."
I nodded slowly, already expecting as much.
"But if this isn't even the real mission," I asked, narrowing my eyes, "then why not just give me a system now and be done with it?"
I already had a theory.
One I wasn't sure I liked.
But it was becoming clearer with every second.
"Don't ask questions," he snapped, the irritation in his voice finally breaking through his usual calm. "Just do as you're told."
Ah.
So he does have limitations.
He's not a god. Not a real one, anyway.
I always suspected the Keeper was beneath the true gods. But now? Now I was sure of it. And with that certainty came dread.
What if this bastard had been manipulating the Devices of Fate from the start? Twisting them until I had no path left but the one he laid out for me?
Thinking about it now… it all made sense.
The way every plan of mine failed, no matter what I did.
How I always ended up worse off, even when I tried my very best. How I could never quite shake my karmic burden, no matter how many cycles I passed through.
It was him.
This bastard.
This fucking asshole.
It all goes back to the beginning. I still remember his words clearly: You have earned the hatred of the Fates and the Will.
But what even is Fate?
What is the Will?
Are they entities? Or just the influence of higher beings?
And if that's the case—if Fate is just a web spun by divine hands—then what does that make the Keeper?
A manipulator.
And I was the idiot who believed him.
Damn it.
I sighed, quietly. I didn't let it show. I couldn't afford to. I was too far in. Too deep. If I tipped my hand now, he'd use it against me.
I had to play the part.
I had to be smart.
Extremely smart.
"Fine," I said coolly, masking every ounce of fury and disgust boiling beneath the surface. "But tell me something… Are you really going to free me?"
And then—
For the first time, in all the countless times I'd stood before this gate, staring at the Keeper's unreadable face...
For the first time—
I saw something different in his eyes.
Not the usual indifference. Not even pity.
But amusement.
....
A/N- Drop powerstone. At least one.