Visionless

The tension in the air was palpable as Sara stood alone in her dimly lit chamber, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her throne. Her crimson lips curled into a sly smile as the heavy iron door creaked open, revealing a hunched figure dragging a burlap sack.

"Have you brought it?" Sara's voice was smooth, almost amused, her emerald eyes gleaming with mischief. The figure nodded silently, placing the sack on the ground before retreating toward the door.

"Good," she said, her tone dropping slightly as she gestured dismissively. "Leave it here. He'll come for it soon enough. You should leave while you can. This place is about to get... very hot."

Before she could finish, the wall to her left exploded with a deafening roar. Scalding steam filled the room, hissing as it rushed past her like an enraged serpent. The heat was intense enough to melt steel, but Sara stood unfazed. Her skin shimmered faintly, a testament to her unnatural resilience.

"So, you've arrived… Wrath," Sara purred, turning to face the figure emerging from the rubble.

A towering man stepped through the smoky haze, a black spear gripped tightly in his hand. His helmet was cracked and battered, releasing plumes of steam from the fractures, and his eyes burned with literal flames—searing embers that twisted and writhed with barely contained fury.

"Sara," Wrath said, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of menace. "Where are they? This is your only chance to give them back."

The flames in his eyes flickered dangerously as he spoke, the heat radiating from him causing the air to shimmer.

Sara smirked, unfazed by his presence. "Over there," she said casually, pointing to a cage near the far corner of the room. "Your little… friends were surprisingly calm for being kidnapped. Brave little creatures. Mind giving one to me? I promise I'll take good care of it."

Wrath's fiery eyes narrowed, and he strode toward the cage, ignoring her bait. He reached out, effortlessly melting the metal bars with a single touch. Inside, a small, molten creature stared up at him with glowing, golden eyes. Its charred, rocky skin gleamed like polished obsidian.

Wrath gently lifted the creature into his arms, his movements unexpectedly tender for someone so imposing. "Sara," he began, his voice steady but tinged with warning, "if you try this again, you'll regret it. We had a deal—I leave you and the others alone, and you don't provoke me. Yet, you keep testing me. It's almost like you want to see how far you can push me."

Sara leaned back against her throne, feigning indifference. "Calm down, Wrath. I apologize. This was the only way to contact you. It's not like you're easy to find." She motioned to a chair across from her. "Why don't you sit? We have a lot to discuss."

The flames in Wrath's eyes flared brighter, shifting from red to white-hot. The room grew even hotter, the stone beneath his feet beginning to melt. "I see," he said, his voice dropping lower. "You're just like the rest of them. I'm done talking."

Without another word, he slammed his spear into the ground. The room transformed instantly as the floor erupted into molten lava, the heat turning the air into a suffocating, volcanic inferno.

Sara remained seated, her expression unchanging despite the chaos. "I see you're the one who killed Sloth," she mused, her voice cutting through the oppressive heat like a blade. "Funny. I always assumed it was Greed."

Wrath didn't respond immediately, his fiery gaze fixed on her.

Sara's tone shifted, her amusement fading slightly. "Tell me, Wrath… do you know where Greed is? He's been far too quiet lately. You and I both know he's plotting something. And I, for one, have no interest in getting caught up in his schemes. Surely you wouldn't want that either?"

Wrath remained unfazed, his grip on the spear tightening. "Greed isn't capable of hurting me or my people. Your fears don't concern me. And I'm sure the only reason you care is because you're planning something yourself. All of you are parasites—weak, selfish, and incapable of working together. You just take and take until there's nothing left."

He stepped closer, the heat intensifying with every word. "Listen to me, Lust. If you ever try to trick me again, know this: nothing in the underworld will protect you. Not the others, not your schemes, nothing."

He turned, lifting the molten creature into his arms. The little being waved a small, rocky hand at Sara as Wrath began to leave.

Sara watched him go, her smirk returning. "So, Wrath has Sloth's power, at the very least. Interesting." She glanced around at her ruined, still-melting chamber, seemingly unbothered by the destruction. "I have Envy. Wrath has Sloth. And that leaves Greed…"

Sara's smile widened, the flames from Wrath's rampage dancing in her emerald eyes like a reflection of her innermost schemes. "Let's see what happens next," she murmured to herself, the words dripping with amusement. 

Her plan hadn't been to sway Wrath to her side—no, that would've been predictable and boring. She only needed confirmation: Was he working with Greed? And more importantly, had he taken out any of the others? Wrath's little display had told her all she needed to know. 

With a graceful movement, Sara rose from her throne. Though small and delicate in stature, her presence filled the ruined room with an air of undeniable authority. She stepped toward the charred remains of the sack, her bare feet making soft taps against the still-warm floor. The sack itself was reduced to ash, but its contents were pristine—a silver dagger, ornately crafted and brimming with latent magic. 

Sara bent down, her crimson lips curving into a coy smile as her fingers closed around the hilt. "Ah, so this is your move, Greed," she whispered, twirling the dagger in her hand like a toy. 

Without hesitation, she plunged it into the floor. A crackle of electricity erupted from the blade, sending a beam of lightning tearing through what little was left of her chamber. The explosion rocked the room, blowing away more walls and leaving the air thick with smoke and the scent of ozone. 

She smirked as she retrieved the blade, brushing stray strands of dark hair from her face. "Not bad, Greed. I'll give you that. But you forgot one very important thing…" Her smile turned wicked. "Who really runs the underworld." 

With a carefree skip in her step, Sara strode toward the door, her charred and tattered gown fluttering behind her. Her makeup was smudged from the heat, her eyeliner smeared into a smoky mess, and her hair was slightly singed at the tips. But she didn't care. Not one bit. 

"Servant!" she called out, her voice lilting and sweet like a melody. A nervous, wide-eyed demon appeared, fumbling with his broom. 

"Y-yes, Mistress Sara?" he stammered, looking at the devastation around her. 

"Clean this up, would you? It's such an eyesore," she said, spinning the dagger absentmindedly in her hand. "Oh, and make it quick. I might want to use this room again for something… dramatic." 

"Of course, Mistress!" The servant scrambled to work as Sara waltzed past him, her mood unshaken. 

The charred gown swayed as she made her way to her favorite balcony, a mischievous smile lighting up her face. She stepped onto the open platform, the cool night air kissing her skin as she gazed down at her domain. 

Unlike the chaotic and grim realms of the other demons, Lust's territory was alive. Neon billboards lit the skyline, advertising everything from luxury cars to alluring perfumes. The streets below were bustling with cars honking and people laughing, their voices mixing with the music spilling out of bars and clubs. Lovers strolled hand in hand, children played in fountains, and every corner seemed to pulse with the rhythm of life. 

Sara took it all in with a satisfied sigh, her hands resting on the balcony rail. The chaos and destruction Wrath had left behind didn't faze her in the slightest. If anything, it thrilled her. She raised her arms high above her head, the dagger catching the glow of the city lights as she stretched. 

"Another war is coming…" she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, carried away by the wind. Then, louder, with a hint of glee, she declared, "And this time, it's my chance! My moment to shine!" 

She twirled on her heels, her childlike giddiness at odds with the cunning, centuries-old mind working behind those bright eyes. Lust, the demon who defied every expectation, the one who didn't fit the mold of her title, was ready to enact her lifelong plan. 

"Soon," she giggled, skipping back inside and humming a cheerful tune, leaving the balcony to bask in the neon glow of her domain.

___________________

Somewhere deep in the underworld, in a region where only hellfire thrived, Wrath arrived, spear in hand and a small creature perched on his shoulder. The endless plains of flame and ash seemed to bow to him as he stepped into his domain. Wrath gently set the creature down, his tone surprisingly kind.

"We're home now. Go on—your family's waiting for you," he said softly. The molten creature chirped in response before scurrying off into the burning landscape.

For a moment, Wrath stood still, his eyes—flames burning brighter than the infernos around him—scanning his domain. He exhaled, his voice tired.

"Hah... I'm getting too old for this kind of thing. Always running, always fighting… Why can't those bastards just live and let live?" he muttered to himself.

Wrath's domain was a fortress of fire, its very foundation composed of hellfire—the deadliest flame, capable of incinerating anything, even souls. Yet, this wasn't a land of destruction; it was a sanctuary for creatures born of flame. They had chosen Wrath, not as a tyrant, but as a protector.

He retreated to his cave, a modest space carved from molten stone. A simple stone table sat before him, rough-hewn and practical. Wrath settled on the ground, legs crossed, spear resting on his lap. In his hand, he held a metal cup filled with a red, bubbling liquid that glowed like magma.

He sipped it thoughtfully, sighing again. "Another culling... That's where this is heading, isn't it?" His voice echoed softly in the cave as he stared out toward the fiery expanse. "If they keep this up, there'll be nothing left…"

The air in the cave shifted. Wrath's sharp gaze turned to the cave entrance as a figure emerged from the shadows. The intruder's eyes were hollow, gouged out, leaving dark, empty sockets. Despite this, the figure's steps were confident, driven by an anger that seemed to radiate off them like heat.

"So," Wrath said calmly, not moving from his spot. "Tell me. Why have you followed me? Did Lust send you?"

The figure's voice was raw, filled with fury. "No. I want to kill her. I want to kill you. No—I want to kill all of you invaders!"

Wrath studied the man for a moment, his tone unchanging. "Very well. Sit down." He gestured to the space across from him. "Us invaders aren't so easy to kill, you know. You'll have to get much stronger to take on even one of us."

The figure hesitated before dropping to his knees. "Tell me," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "Tell me how to kill Lust."

Wrath's fiery eyes flickered. He sipped from his cup before responding. "Hah… First, you'll need to understand what we are. And start with your name."

"…Ben," the man said, bowing his head. "My name is Ben. Please, Demon of Wrath… give me your strength. Help me free my home from you invaders. From you devils!"

Ben's body trembled as he bowed low, his empty sockets tilted toward the ground. Wrath imagined that if Ben still had eyes, they'd be filled with tears.

Wrath leaned back slightly, his voice taking on a far-off quality as he began to speak. "It was a long time ago. A few thousand years, if I remember right. That was when we woke up for the first time. Each of us in a different corner of this world. Each of us a sinner."

He paused, staring into his cup as though the bubbling liquid held the memories.

"Greed wanted power. Lust wanted control. Sloth craved eternal rest. Envy? Envy wanted everything. And me? Wrath? I just wanted to find a way home." His voice softened. "I was the only one who managed it."

Ben listened intently, his fists clenched as Wrath continued.

"The others… They grew restless. They realized they weren't as strong as they thought. Weakness breeds desperation, and desperation led them to seek each other's power—not through cooperation, but through blood. That was the start of the Sinners' Culling."

Wrath's eyes burned brighter, his voice now tinged with bitterness. "We destroyed the land. Tore it apart. Killed anyone and anything that stood in our way. We turned this place into what you call hell. But you're wrong, Ben. This isn't hell. It's just another world. A world filled with life."

He sighed deeply, his gaze distant. "And we ruined it. Our idiocy, our greed, our violence… we turned it into hell. That's what it means to be a sinner."

Wrath leaned forward, meeting Ben's hollow gaze. "Before we were demons, we were humans. Do you know what that is? No… of course you don't. How could you?"

The cave fell silent, save for the faint crackle of fire in the distance. Ben's voice broke through, quiet but determined. "Then teach me. Teach me what I need to know. Help me destroy them… and you, if I must."

Wrath smirked faintly, shaking his head. "If you really want to kill Lust—or me—you'll need more than anger. You'll need knowledge. You'll need strength. And you'll need to understand what we really are."

Ben straightened, his resolve unwavering. Wrath gestured toward the firelight outside his cave. "Then sit, boy. Listen. If you want to destroy a demon, you'll need to learn what it means to be one first."

__________________________

A sharp knock echoed through the lavish chamber. Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Who is it?" came a voice, smooth yet commanding, from within.

"It is I, Pope Ferdinand. May I enter? I bring troubling news," the reply came, steady but laced with unease.

"Yes, my child, you may enter. Tell me, what weighs so heavily on your soul?"

The grand doors creaked open, and Norman Hubert stepped inside. His demeanor was respectful, but his urgency was evident. As Ferdinand's gaze fell upon him, his bejeweled fingers tapped against the armrest of his throne in slow, deliberate rhythm.

"Well, Norman," Ferdinand prompted, his tone indulgent but firm, "what has happened?"

Norman bowed low before beginning. "Your Excellency, I regret to inform you that the shipment we awaited with such anticipation has been seized by the Queen's Guard."

The room fell silent save for the faint crackle of incense burning in a golden brazier. Ferdinand's face remained impassive, though his eyes gleamed with calculation. He stroked his ornate staff, the gilded jewels shimmering in the dim candlelight. Finally, he hummed, a sound both thoughtful and dismissive.

"Hmm… as expected. No need to trouble yourself, my dear Norman. We anticipated such meddling. Our benefactors ensured a second, smaller shipment arrived through... alternative channels. It's safely stored in the barracks."

Ferdinand leaned forward, the folds of his richly embroidered robes shifting like waves of silk. His staff, encrusted with glittering gemstones, tapped the floor with a metallic thud. "Once our meeting concludes, see to it that the shipment is delivered to the Paladins. They are to prepare for the task ahead without delay."

Norman straightened, his lips tightening as he absorbed the pope's words. "And what is the task, Your Excellency?"

Ferdinand smiled, broad and indulgent, his expression almost fatherly—if not for the malice that lurked behind his eyes. "The task is simple, Norman. We purge. By the goddess's grace, this land shall be cleansed. Only the pure will remain, and those deemed unworthy… well…" He trailed off, his smile widening into something cold and sharp.

As he laughed, the sheer weight of his presence filled the room. His large frame, draped in the finest silks and adorned with threads of gold, quivered slightly with amusement. "By year's end, this kingdom will kneel before the goddess's will. And I shall stand as her voice. Her chosen shepherd. Her divine hand."

Behind Ferdinand's throne, a faint sound broke the moment. A small figure shifted in its slumber, chained at the neck. The childlike creature, with delicate fox-like ears and a frail, trembling frame, lay curled on a satin cushion. Its face was serene, as though unaware of the cruel chains that bound it.

Ferdinand glanced back at the creature briefly, a flicker of greed crossing his face before he turned his attention back to Norman. "Soon, Norman. Soon, her presence will grace us, and paradise shall bloom under my guidance. The goddess has spoken, and I shall see her will done."

His tone dropped, becoming darker, more menacing. "The Queen's meddling is a minor inconvenience. Should she continue to interfere, she will find herself crushed beneath the weight of divine justice. Tell me, Norman," he said, leaning forward until his shadow loomed over the kneeling man, "do you doubt our cause?"

Norman's voice quivered. "No, Your Excellency. Never."

Ferdinand grinned. "Good. Now go. Ensure the Paladins are ready, and remind them—this mission is not just for the church. It is for the goddess herself. Do not fail me, Norman. Do not fail her."

As Norman departed, the grand doors closing behind him, Ferdinand leaned back in his throne. His eyes drifted again to the fox-like figure behind him, a grotesque smile curling his lips.

"Soon," he murmured, his voice low and chilling. "Soon, the unworthy shall burn, the faithful shall rise, and paradise will be mine to rule."

_________________

"I'm back... hah... hah..." Adam panted as he hauled himself onto the rooftop, his chest heaving with every breath. He collapsed onto the tiles for a moment, wiping sweat from his brow. 

Ren glanced at him, his sharp eyes never leaving the dark mansion below. "Took you long enough. Did you find anything?" 

"Yeah," Adam said between gulps of air, pushing himself upright. "Got some intel... What about you?" 

Ren's expression tightened, his voice low and steady. "Same here. She's definitely here—and it's clear she's being held against her will. As for the children..." He paused, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "I haven't seen anything that confirms they're here yet." 

Adam nodded, his brows furrowed. "Alright... that's a start, at least. If she's here, we'll find the rest soon enough."