⚠️ Trigger Warning (TW):

This story contains themes that may be disturbing to some readers, including emotional instability, obsession, manipulation, psychological distress, violence, death, identity issues, and morally gray characters. Characters may exhibit unhealthy attachments, extreme behavior, or emotional volatility. Please proceed with care.

This is a dark comedy and psychological fantasy—nothing is simple, and no one is safe (especially not the emotionally repressed S-Ranks).

Read at your own risk.

...----------------...

Her steps were light.

Too light.

Like her body had already started letting go. She climbed up on the chair, quiet, almost graceful. Almost like she wasn't really there.

The rope dangled in front of her, just close enough to brush her cheek. It was waiting. And she knew—once the chair went, that was it.

No do-overs. No second thoughts.

She took her time.

Slipped her head through the loop like it was part of some ritual. Some final, silent goodbye.

Across from her, on the cracked wall, hung the portrait—her mom and dad. Smiling like everything had been okay. Like they hadn't left her in this mess.

That smile... God, it made her skin crawl.

It felt like they were mocking her. Like the whole damn world was in on the joke.

Her hands curled into fists. She clenched her teeth, trembling.

"You useless..." she muttered under her breath, eyes glassy, voice shaking. Tears welled up, clinging to her lashes.

Useless.

The word echoed inside her, bouncing off old wounds. Was she talking to them... or herself?

The rope sat loose around her neck, like it was waiting for her to decide. Her tears started falling. Heavy. Relentless.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry!" she yelled—not to the portraits. To herself. Like maybe there was still something in her worth apologizing to.

And then... she laughed.

Or maybe she smiled. It was hard to tell. It was the kind of smile you give yourself in the mirror when you're lying through your teeth.

What did it matter? They were gone. Everyone was gone.

She was alone.

Powerless.

That's what she believed.

But this world... this broken, burning, rotting world?

It doesn't care what you believe.

When it's dying, it doesn't beg.

When it's in a desperate need for saving, it doesn't wait for a savior. 

It builds one.

And you don't get to have a say in it.

Then—

The chair went.

The rope snapped tight.

And everything went dark.

...----------------...

Her feet were soaked, yet somehow, impossibly, she didn't sink into the ocean beneath her—a mirror-flat abyss that stretched into forever.

She wandered, dazed, across the endless void, drawn toward nothing but the yawning dark. No stars, no landmarks. Just her own reflection rippling back at her, as if the water were a portal to something she wasn't meant to see.

Trailing behind her, like the aftermath of a choice she didn't remember making, was the snapped rope—her anchor, severed but still clinging.

Then it happened.

A weight pressed down on it.

She stopped.

But more than that—she froze, breath hitching sharp in her throat.

The air turned razor-cold. Her blood iced over.

Who—what—was that?

Death?

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice gentle—

—The one who answered wasn't.

He didn't speak. Not yet. He only reached down, fingers curling around the leash she'd forgotten, and pulled—not a tug, not a warning.

A command.

It snapped her body backward, dragging her across the water like a marionette.

"Aren't you being just a bit disrespectful... to your god?"

She lifted her eyes—and met his.

Twin suns. Blinding. Merciless. Beautiful in the way a wildfire is beautiful—only from a distance, and only if it doesn't want you dead.

She couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.

Her entire body screamed one thing: run.

So she did.

She ran like her soul was on fire.

Bare feet pounding the water's surface, splashes echoing into the void, she sprinted with no direction—only desperation. Her heart slammed inside her chest like a prisoner begging for release.

The leash dragged behind her, useless now, an afterthought.

Behind her, he laughed.

Low. Cruel. Almost amused.

"Trusting your instincts," he mused, voice curling around her spine like smoke, like silk, like steel.

"So very... human of you."

She ran harder, faster.

But the dark was endless.

And his voice?

It followed.

Smooth. Unhurried. Slicing into her thoughts like a scalpel made of starlight.

"No wonder your world ended the way it did."

"No wonder your world ended like that."

The words didn't just land—they hit, sharp and deep, like they'd been waiting for the perfect moment to sink in.

Her legs gave just a little. Not enough to fall. Just enough to know it was coming.

Shame. Helplessness. It poured into her bones like ice water, slowed her blood, made her feet heavy.

Behind her, she could feel it—that awful smile stretching wider. Not just watching. Waiting. Like he knew she'd crumble eventually, and he had all the time in the world.

She stopped.

Heart pounding. Skin slick with cold sweat. Every breath a jagged edge.

But she didn't look back.

She wouldn't give him that.

The silence dragged on, thick as tar.

When she finally spoke, her voice barely made it out. "Why did you bring me here?"

And behind her—he chuckled.

Low. Smooth. Like he was talking to something small and confused.

"To be my priestess, of course," he said, like it was obvious. Like she should be grateful.

The words oozed through her ears, too soft, too calm. They curled around her spine like smoke—sweet, poisonous, final.

She could feel his grin again, even without turning. That wide, inhuman smile. Sharp and patient.

This wasn't about choice. It never had been.

The world around her was nothing but dark. Endless. Cold. Pressing in, pushing down. Like the air itself wanted her to surrender.

She stood barefoot on... water? Maybe. It moved under her, but it felt wrong. Too still. Too empty.

The air buzzed—low and awful, just beneath hearing. Like static, like a scream that never made it out.

Then she felt it.

Around her neck.

A collar.

Heavy. Icy. Tight.

She hadn't noticed it until now, but it was there. It had always been there. And now it pulled.

A soft tug. Barely anything.

But her body moved anyway.

Just one step forward.

Not hers.

She didn't look up. Couldn't. Something inside her knew better.

Her voice came out cracked, barely more than a breath. "God... right?"

No reply.

Just that awful sound again, vibrating around her—syrupy, oily, like something too big to see was breathing against her skin. Disgust? Amusement? Approval?

All of it. None of it. She didn't know anymore.

Then fingers—cold, deliberate—slid slowly up her spine.

Mocking. Possessive.

She froze.

The touch branded something deep in her—reminded her exactly what she'd lost.

Who she'd lost.

The leash pulled again.

Not hard. Just enough to remind her it was there.

"My smart little priestess," the voice purred, low and cruel, right beside her ear.

The collar tightened slightly. Teasing. Playful. Like a game with no rules and no way out.

"This god of yours..." he murmured, tone twisting like a knife, "is in a rather dire situation."

Then came the laugh.

Ugly. Broken. Like something sick and grinning inside a cage.

He was circling her now. She could feel it.

She stood still. Rigid. While he drifted like smoke or shadow, closing in.

"Once, I stood high," he said, almost fondly. "When my people rose—strong enough to split the heavens open..."

Then—sharp. A single finger drove into her back, hard.

She gasped.

"...they thanked me by tearing the world apart."

"...Are you talking about to the current issue including the s-ranks?" She asked lowly, keeping her head low.

"What else?" He sneered.

Rude.

"You, little priestess. Why do you think they're doing that?" He asked, bending down to look at her face-to-face but she clenched her eyes.

"I... I don't know..." She stuttered, if only she cared more about what's happening around her then she would've known.

The god's laughter rang out, sharp and scornful, cutting through the heavy air like a blade. "You humans," he spat, voice thick with derision, "are entirely stupid."

He paced before her, arms spread wide in mockery, his steps almost playful — like a wolf dancing before the kill. "The world gifts you a sliver of magic... just a taste... and what do you do?"

He snapped his fingers, and visions of burning cities, broken armies, and crumbling towers exploded around her, surrounding her in a spinning hellscape. "You turn it into war."

His voice was thick with disgust and amusement both, savoring every word. "Like mindless beasts—smash, smash, smash!" Each word was punctuated with another horrific image, a child screaming, a city collapsing, rivers running red.

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound twisted and wrong. "Hah! Seriously. It's almost... impressive."

The visions slowed. He leaned in, his eyes glowing faintly in the gloom, his smile wide and cruel. "But props to you, little priestess," he whispered, mockingly tender.

Around them, the air darkened further, the feeling of unseen hands clawing at the edges of her mind.

"Because of that little apocalypse you humans pulled..." He tapped her forehead lightly with a single cold finger, grinning. "I rose higher than ever before. Right through the ranks. Thanks to you."

His grin twisted into something darker, more unsettling.

Suddenly, his expression turned blank, vacant, as though the madness inside him had consumed his features entirely.

"And now that I'm on top..." His voice dropped, a deadly hiss slipping from his lips as his eyes ignited, glowing with an unnatural light. "I saw something." His fangs, sharp and grotesque, glinted in the eerie glow as he leaned closer, a sickening hunger flashing in his gaze.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" His voice cracked, the tantrum of a child gone wrong, twisting into madness. His hands moved erratically, summoning storm-like bursts of power, each one splashing around her in a violent display of rage. But none of them hit their mark, missing by inches as if toying with her.

"Those s-ranks of yours... they're going to burn everything I've built!" His eyes turned red with fury, his stare seething with raw, uncontrolled rage. He lunged forward, his grip tight on her shoulders, shaking her violently as his breath hitched.

Her body trembled, breaking under the pressure, as if she were a fragile doll on the verge of shattering.

"Oh, no, no, no..." His voice dropped to a mocking whisper, his tone dripping with feigned sweetness. "Don't be scared... I never said it was your fault," he emphasized the wrong word, his lips curling into a grotesque parody of comfort.

His face twisted once more, a violent storm building behind his eyes. "But it soon will be, if you don't listen closely..." His voice became a low growl, the tension in the air thick enough to suffocate.