Project:Imagine

In the depths of a grand castle awaited a bedroom, a sanctuary of luxury and tranquility bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through sheer, silken drapes. The daylight cast an ethereal glow across the room, making the tapestries on the walls come alive with serene landscapes of verdant meadows and serene lakes. These intricate tapestries, masterfully woven with threads of gold and silver, depicted scenes that seemed to move as the light shifted. A grand chandelier, an intricate masterpiece of wrought iron and crystal, hung from the high ceiling, its numerous crystals catching the moonlight and casting delicate rainbows that danced across the room.

A plush, oversized bed dominated the space, its four tall, ornate posts draped with rich, velvet curtains that could be drawn for privacy. The bed was covered in magnificent linens of the finest silk, their deep crimson hue contrasting beautifully with the soft white of the pillows. These pillows were abundant, each one more decorative than the last, embroidered with gold thread and adorned with tassels. Ornate furniture completed the lavish decor, a mahogany dresser with intricately carved handles, a matching mirror, and a velvet-upholstered chaise lounge, perfect for leisurely afternoons spent reading. Next to the lounge was a bookshelf of various fantasy novels, the most popular genre was “isekai” which spoke about another world called Gaia and people traveling to it. The room exuded an aura of pure greed, every detail meticulously chosen to create an atmosphere of utmost luxury.

Amidst this splendor, the gentle rise and fall of a boy's form could be seen, nestled peacefully in the center of the sumptuous bed, lost in dreams. The boy had medium-length hair, as dark as a starless night, a stark contrast to the white linens around him. One striking feature was the single broken crimson horn protruding from his forehead, a symbol of his unique heritage. He wore a set of lavish purple pajamas, made of the softest fabric, and held onto a teddy bear, worn out and ripped, with notable stitches around its neck as if it had been reattached and remade. This bear, though old and battered, was clearly cherished. A small tag on the teddy bear read “Timere Futura,” a curious and perhaps ominous phrase.

As the boy continued to sleep, a maid walked into the room. She was a striking figure with long velvet-colored hair that cascaded down her back and dark green eyes that gleamed with intelligence and a hint of mischief. She wore an outfit reminiscent of a French maid, with a crisp white apron over a black dress, and small, delicate pink wings protruding from her back, giving her an almost ethereal appearance. Under her dress, strapped to her upper thigh, was a hidden holster for knives, hinting at a dangerous side beneath her composed exterior.

“Young master, wake up. Honestly, sleeping all day is unbecoming,” the maid complained as she kicked the boy's bed, causing him to tumble out and land unceremoniously on the floor.

The boy's eyes fluttered open, revealing irises as crimson as fresh blood. He rubbed the back of his head as he began to get up from the ground, his expression a mix of irritation and resignation.

“Ouch, Alicia, what did you do that for? Why can't you just wake me up like a normal maid? And it's not even close to the afternoon, let alone sleeping all day,” the young master said, frustrated.

“You have an image to uphold, my young master. Your father has invited you to the council meeting, and you are expected to show up,” Alicia explained, her tone firm but not unkind.

“Fine, if I must. I don't understand why Father even wants me as the seventh member anyway,” the young master complained, his tone petulant.

“You are our dear king's only son, young Avaritia. There is no better option than you. Now let's hurry and get you dressed,” Alicia said gleefully, her wings fluttering slightly as she moved.

Alicia assisted in picking out his clothing and styling his hair, her movements swift and practiced. Avaritia finished getting dressed, wearing a white shirt with a black tailcoat jacket that had silver buttons and intricate embroidery along the cuffs. He paired it with black dress pants and polished black shoes, completing his ensemble. As he stood before the mirror, his reflection showed a young boy poised to take on the responsibilities thrust upon him, a mix of reluctance and determination in his crimson eyes.

Before leaving, Avaritia took his teddy bear and hid it under his jacket, Alicia noticed but chose to feign ignorance. The two left Avaritia’s bedroom and made their way to the meeting room. As they turned a corner, Alicia’s ears twitched slightly, a sign of her heightened senses. Without a word, she grabbed Avaritia and swiftly covered his ears, pulling him back to hide behind the corner. Beyond the hallway, two maids began to chat, their voices dripping with disdain.

“Honestly, it makes no sense why our lord keeps that worthless trash still around,” Maid A complained, her voice full of venom.

“He was born a measly one star, but what did we expect? He’s nothing more than a bastard. We still don't know who his mother is,” Maid B laughed, her tone mocking.

“I bet she was just a common whore. Honestly, I feel bad for Alicia. She's such an excellent maid yet is stuck as the personal attendant of that bastard with no future,” Maid A laughed cruelly.

“Did you hear the rumor? Apparently, the king is going to make that bastard the seventh member of the council. I bet Superbia is going to be angry,” Maid B said, her voice tinged with excitement.

“Definitely. That man has disapproved of the king ever since he replaced the previous one. Now, letting a one-star bastard into the council will certainly set him off,” Maid A chuckled maliciously.

“I can't listen to this bullshit any longer,” Alicia muttered to herself, her eyes narrowing as she reached for the hidden knives.

With deadly accuracy, she threw the knives, the blades slicing through the air and grazing the maids' cheeks. Blood trickled down their faces as they stood frozen in shock. Alicia stepped out from the corner, her presence commanding and terrifying.

“If your tongues continue to act so light, your heads shall be the same,” Alicia threatened, her voice cold and unyielding.

The two maids looked in horror as they spotted Alicia. They watched as she pulled out two more knives, her eyes burning with fury as she pointed the blades directly at them. The message was clear, another word and their lives would be forfeit. She swiftly grabbed Avarita by his hand and led him into the meeting room.

“What were those two talking about, and why do you look so angry?” Avaritia questioned, his curiosity piqued by Alicia's sudden aggression.

“You do not need to worry about such details, young master. Nothing more than pathetic gossip spread by those who are jealous,” Alicia said with a forced smile, her voice trying to mask the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“You’re a horrible liar,” Avaritia mumbled to himself, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched her.

Alicia gestured for Avaritia to enter the meeting room, her demeanor shifting back to professional calm. As he stepped inside, she stayed behind, the door closing softly behind him.

The meeting room exuded an air of mystery and authority, its dim lighting casting elongated shadows across the walls adorned with abstract art and intricate wood paneling. The atmosphere was thick with an unspoken gravity, as though the very walls were privy to secrets and deliberations of immense importance. A large, oval table of dark polished wood sat at the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs. Seated in these chairs were seven individuals, their forms obscured by the strategic interplay of shadows and the soft, ambient glow from the overhead chandelier. The figures seemed almost ethereal, their features indistinct and shifting, cloaked in an enigmatic aura that made it impossible to discern their identities.

Under these dark shadows sat each member of the council and their king. Their forms were unknown, but their names were known to Avaritia: Aether, Superbia, Gula, Luxuria, Invidia, Ira, and Acedia.

“My lord, is this the one who shall fulfill the sin of Greed? It's been left empty ever since you came into power,” Luxuria inquired, her voice dripping with intrigue and malice.

Luxuria, known as the sin of Lust within the council, was manipulative and cunning. Her strongest ability was the Authority of Mind, a power that could bend the will of others to her own, making her both feared and desired among the council members.

“Yes, my son. I believe there is no better candidate. Ira has been training him and can attest to his worthiness,” Aether replied, his voice resonating with the weight of unquestionable authority.

Aether, their king, was a fair yet just ruler. Before ascending to the throne, he had held the title of the sin of Greed, a role he had played with ruthless efficiency.

“The bastard child, someone as worthless as that, is given a seat amongst our council? How ridiculous! The rest of this council is made up of those who were born five-stars, yet you want someone so pathetically beneath us to be considered an equal?” Superbia spat, his voice filled with disdain and rage.

Superbia, the sin of Pride, was an arrogant man who coveted the throne for himself. His most prized ability was the Authority of Time, a power he believed elevated him above all others.

“Bite your tongue. I will not permit you to show any form of disrespect to our king,” Ira snapped, her voice brimming with anger as she brandished her sword, aiming it at Superbia.

Ira, the most loyal to the king, held the title of the sin of Wrath. She would do anything for her king and wielded her Authority of Corruption to annihilate any of his enemies.

The tension in the room was palpable as the council members assessed Avaritia. Each held their thoughts and judgments, but none could deny the king's decree. Despite his doubts and Superbia's harsh words, Avaritia stood tall, ready to prove his worthiness to the council and himself.

“Avaritia, take a seat over there next to Acedia,” Aether commanded, his voice echoing through the grand meeting room.

Acedia, the sin of Sloth, had already fallen asleep during the meeting. Her prolific sleeping habits were well-known, and her Authority of Dreams allowed her to manipulate and traverse the dream realm.

Avaritia took his seat as the meeting began, feeling the weight of the council's scrutiny upon him.

“My lord, the most pressing issue is the disappearance of the seventy-two lords. So many high-ranking figures disappearing off the face of the Abyss is deeply concerning,” Gula spoke, their mouth full of food.

Gula, the sin of Gluttony, had been munching away on snacks throughout the meeting. Their Authority of Probability allowed them to manipulate outcomes to their advantage, a power they often used to ensure their indulgences.

“Yes, I understand how grave this incident is. However, there's something I’d like to propose to the council,” Aether said calmly.

The council members' attention focused on their king. Even those who were asleep or distracted looked toward him. Invidia, who had been avoiding eye contact the entire time, stared straight ahead, captivated by their king's words.

Invidia, the sin of Envy, was constantly fearful of the other sins to the point it could drive him mad. His strongest ability was his Authority of Madness, a power that could induce insanity in others.

As the meeting continued, the weight of Aether's proposal hung heavily in the air, a potential turning point in the fate of the Abyss.

“I would like to propose, for the first time in our history, an eighth member to be added to this council. They will be known as the sin of vanity,” Aether said confidently.

“You can’t be serious. How the hell are you even supposed to add another council member? Didn't you hear about the seventy-two lords? The only ones who could be fit for such a position have all vanished. Don't tell me you plan to add another dirty blood like your son. What, you got with another whore and made another freak show to add to our ranks?” Superbia furiously yelled.

“I would appreciate it if you wouldn't speak about my love like that, Superbia,” Aether said, his voice filled with a malice that sent chills down everyone's spine.

“Then prove me wrong. None of us have ever met her. Our only knowledge of her existence is that bastard child over there,” Superbia sneered, his contempt evident.

Aether chose to ignore the comment, his expression unchanging. For the first time during the tense meeting, he lifted his goblet and took a measured sip. Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock as a sharp pain tore through his chest. He began to cough violently, splattering the table with dark blood. The room fell into a stunned silence.

Luxuria, leaned forward with a vicious smile, her fingers curling around the hilt of a hidden sword. She had been waiting for this precise moment to strike down the king. But she wasn't the only one with such ambitions.

Superbia had been watching Aether closely. He moved with lightning speed when he detected the king's vulnerability. His hand sliced through the air, conjuring a gleaming sword from nothingness. Without hesitation, he drove the blade deep into Aether's heart, the sound of metal piercing flesh echoing through the hall.

“Finally, you damned bastard!” Superbia's voice rang out, a maniacal edge to his laughter. “I've waited ages for this moment. With you dead, I will seize the throne and become the new king!” His eyes blazed triumphantly as he twisted the sword, ensuring the fatal blow.

Aether's body convulsed, his strength ebbing away as he struggled to breathe. The court watched in horrified silence, the weight of betrayal heavy in the air. The once-mighty king crumpled to the floor, his lifeblood pooling around him as Superbia stood over him, reveling in his victory.

Chaos erupted in the room. Ira, the most loyal to the king, stood frozen in shock for a split second before his rage took over. His Authority of Corruption flared, ready to annihilate the traitor. Luxuria's Authority of Mind shimmered as she prepared to manipulate the council members, and Invidia screamed in fear as their Authority of Madness began to ripple through the air on accident, adding to the turmoil.

A singularity erupted as the three authorities activated simultaneously, their immense powers clashing and fusing in a blinding explosion. The resulting shockwave hurled each council member to the corners of the grand chamber, their bodies slamming against the ornate walls with bone-crunching force. Groans of pain filled the air as they struggled to move, each one grievously injured.

Avaritia slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, and a pounding headache clouded his thoughts. Struggling to focus, he pushed himself up on trembling arms. As his vision cleared, he looked up to see Superbia towering over him.

“Goodnight, you damned, filthy blood,” Superbia sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. With a swift, merciless motion, he raised his sword and brought it down in a lethal arc.

The blade gleamed in the dim light for a brief, frozen moment before it sliced cleanly through Avaritia's neck. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc as Avaritia's head tumbled to the floor, his eyes wide with shock. Superbia stood over the lifeless body, his expression cold and triumphant, the silence of the chamber broken only by the dripping of blood from his blade.

“There we have it, the foolish king and his bastard of a son are dead,” Superbia announced to the meeting room as he picked up the king's crown, his voice echoing with a chilling finality.

Ira picked herself up, staring at the two corpses, Aether, her beloved king, and Avaritia, the young master she had sworn to protect. An indescribable rage consumed her, the very mana in the air crying out as her hair turned white as snow, a manifestation of the raging blizzard within her soul. Her crimson eyes glowed a bright red, the same color she was prepared to spill across the ground. She held her blade and dragged her hand across its spine, coating it in lightning, which then turned pitch black. A blackened, sinister lightning consumed it as she charged toward Superbia, her fury a palpable force. At the moment she had activated four of her abilities at once, berserker, super speed, lightning, and finally her Authority of corruption.

“Once I kill you, there won't be anyone who would dare oppose me,” Superbia said confidently.

Despite his words, he couldn't react or activate an ability as Ira swiftly sliced off his arm. He groaned in pain as his severed limb fell to the ground, blood pooling at his feet. Desperation and anger contorted his face as he quickly activated his ability, causing swords to rain from the sky.

“Really, Superbia? Is that the best you've got? Your feeble power mimicry won't save you,” Ira said wildly, launching the same wave of swords back at him, her voice a twisted mix of rage and derision.

The swords clashed midair, a cacophony of metal against metal, sparks flying in every direction. Superbia's eyes widened in disbelief as Ira's strength and speed overwhelmed him. The blackened lightning crackled around her, an extension of her unyielding wrath. She moved with blinding speed, her berserker mode enhancing her every movement, her attacks relentless and precise.

Superbia stumbled back, his confidence wavering as he realized the extent of Ira's power. His pride had blinded him to her true capabilities, and now he was paying the price. Ira's sword slashed through the air, each strike pushing him further back, his defenses crumbling under her onslaught.

“You underestimated me, Superbia,” Ira growled, her voice seething with fury. “And now, you'll pay with your life.”

With a final, devastating blow, Ira's sword plunged into Superbia's chest, the black lightning surging through his body. His eyes widened in shock and pain as the life drained from him, yet despite this, Superbia smiled viciously.

“I fully recognize you are stronger than me, however only a fool relies solely on strength in a battle,” Superbia yelled.

An intense rupture of mana was emitted from Superbia, as he grasped onto Ira's blackened blade, staring directly at her with crazed eyes.

“We’ll meet again, and when we do, I'll make sure you'll feel the same pain I currently do. Oh, Authority of Time engulf all of these worthless bastards,” Superbia proclaimed.

Ira attempted to pull her blade from his chest, but Superbia held on with every ounce of strength he had as his body emitted an intense azure aura. The Aura generated by Superbia’s Authority of Time began to mix with the blackened aura of Ira’s Authority of Corruption.

“What are you plotting, you bastard,” Ira yelled as she attempted to pull her sword away.

Superbia didn't say a thing, but simply laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the ruined chamber. Ira's grip on her sword tightened as her rage intensified. However then, she let go of her sword, and with a swift motion, created another one. This blade, while not imbued with the blackened lightning, would be sufficient to decapitate him, she thought. She swung the sword, and it bit into his neck, but as the blade sliced partway through, she dropped it, screaming out in agony as she felt the same injury form on her own neck. Superbia's final trump card had been his ability, reflection.

At that moment, the intense auras fully fused, creating a singularity within Superbia’s body. A shockwave erupted, spreading throughout the Abyss. The walls of the chamber shook violently, and a blinding light enveloped everything. Every inhabitant of the Abyss, including Superbia, vanished completely, their forms disintegrating into a blackened light.

In the last moment before vanishing, Superbia's lips curled into a confident smile. “You may have defeated me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the explosion, “but you cannot destroy what I have set in motion.”

As the light consumed him, Ira fell to her knees, clutching her neck. The pain was unbearable, her vision blurred, and her strength waned. The surrounding room dissolved into white, and she felt herself being pulled into the void. Her last thoughts were of Aether and Avaritia, of the lives she had failed to protect. Tears mingled with the blood on her face as she whispered, “I will avenge you.”

The chamber, once filled with the grandeur and authority of the council, was now empty, a void of silence and darkness. The shockwave continued to ripple through the Abyss, reaching every corner of the realm. Structures crumbled, and the very fabric of reality seemed to warp and bend under the force of the explosion.

Outside the castle, the landscape of the Abyss changed dramatically. Rivers of lava cooled and solidified, towering spires crumbled into dust, and the once vibrant skies turned an eerie shade of gray. The inhabitants, caught in the shockwave, had disappeared, their existence erased in an instant. The once bustling and chaotic world of the Abyss was now a desolate and barren wasteland.

In the aftermath, a profound silence fell over the Abyss. The council, the king, and the inhabitants were gone, leaving behind an empty shell of what once was. The winds howled mournfully through the deserted corridors of the castle, and the tapestries and banners, now tattered and scorched, swayed gently in the ghostly breeze.

All that remained in the shattered chamber were two lifeless bodies. King Aether and his son, Avaritia. Their forms lay motionless amidst the debris, a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. The grandeur and authority that once filled the room had been reduced to an empty shell of its former self.

King Aether, who had ruled with wisdom and strength, now lay still, his once commanding presence extinguished. His crown, which had symbolized his power and responsibility, was stolen by Superbia, a silent testament to the violent end of his reign. His face, even in death, retained a hint of the regal composure that had marked his leadership, a poignant reminder of the legacy he had hoped to leave behind.

Avaritia, the young master, lay lifeless beside his father. His expression, frozen in shock and pain, reflected the abrupt and brutal end of his journey. Blood had sprayed from his severed neck, pooling around him and mingling with the dust and rubble that littered the grand chamber. The teddy bear he had clung to for comfort, worn and stitched with care, lay nearby. Unlike its owner, the bear's head was still attached, its small tag bearing the words, “Timere Futura.”

Amidst the silence, the door creaked open as a figure stepped through. Glowing green fireflies followed her, casting an ethereal glow that made her appear otherworldly. Her long white hair was messy as if it had never been brushed, yet it held a wild, captivating beauty. Her eyes, glowing with an even more intense green than the fireflies, surveyed the scene with an unsettling calm. She wore a flowing white sundress that moved with each step and a white straw hat perched atop her head, completing her ethereal ensemble. She bent down and picked up Avaritia’s severed head, her movements deliberate and unhurried.

“How unfortunate. I even left you that teddy bear as a reminder that this would happen, and you still ended up like this,” the woman sighed, her voice carrying a blend of disappointment and resignation.

She glanced over at the teddy bear, its small tag still saying the words, “Timere Futura.” The message was clear, fear the future. Just like the teddy bear, Avaritia’s head had been cut off.

“It’s fine. I planned for this. You have to live, after all. Much like your teddy bear, I'll stitch your head back on and rebuild you,” she said cheerfully, an eerie contrast to the macabre scene.

A green glow emanated from her, filling the room with an otherworldly light. A glowing green door materialized in front of her. She held Avaritia’s severed head out in front of her as the door swung open.

“Good luck. You better win. I'm positive I chose the best candidate. You won't remember this, but my name is Eden,” Eden said, her tone both encouraging and ominous. With that, she threw his head through the door.

In another place, a young boy suddenly awoke, finding himself in a dumpster. He had orange hair streaked with black and eyes filled with the same vibrant orange color. He wore a white button-up shirt and jeans, with white socks and black shoes, both riddled with holes. A necklace with a key around it hung from his neck, yet for some reason, he couldn’t see or acknowledge it. As he stood up, he felt a strange sensation in the right corner of his forehead and noticed a keyhole there.

The boy couldn’t remember anything, not where he was, how he had ended up in the dumpster, his parents, nothing but his name: Maxwell Lumiar. He jumped out of the dumpster, his eyes wide with wonder as he spotted a large electronic billboard. He had never seen anything so fascinating before. The numbers at the bottom of the billboard meant nothing to him, though they displayed the date: August 27th, and the time, eight o’clock. Miles away, in the distant town of Applecrest, a young girl’s life was in danger at this very moment.