Humanity Undivided [DxD Great War OC-Insert / CYOA]

Chapter 9

Runeas Gremory

"Shit, shit, shit, shit—" I mutter frantically, my feet pounding against the uneven ground as I sprint through the crumbling remains of Lilith. Suddenly, my foot catches on a jagged piece of rubble, sending me sprawling forward. I hit the ground hard, my palms scraping against the rough surface just as a golden blur streaks past me. The sheer force of it whips the air around me, making my hair stand on end. My stomach churns as I realize that, had I not tripped, I'd have been obliterated on the spot.

Scrambling back to my feet, I glance over my shoulder just in time to see Lucifer himself giving chase, his focus entirely on the blur. He doesn't even spare me a glance. What the hell is happening?!

First, it was that horrifying golden tear in reality, bleeding light and power that shouldn't even exist. Then, that voice—it shook the entire city, as if it was trying to tear the ground out from under us. And then… then the entire garrison of Lilith—every damned devil stationed here—was gone. Wiped out. Just like that.

The Phenex? Probably dead. Their descendants spontaneously combusted, just bursting into flames and screaming like they were being ripped apart from the inside. Agares? Glasya-Labolas? Gone too! I don't even know what happened to them; one second, they were there, and the next—ashes. I can't even begin to fathom what that means.

And the castle? Stormed. By those golden freaks. They tore through everything like we were nothing. The castle is falling apart—literally falling apart! Entire sections are gone, obliterated in the chaos. No one can stop them! No one even knows what's going on!

And Lucifer—of all the times for him to lose his mind—he's in a rage, ranting and raving about his "property" being stolen, like that even matters right now! His precious underworld is crumbling, his legions are gone, and he's screaming about property! Does he even see what's happening around him?

The ground beneath me quakes violently as cataclysmic explosions ripple through the city, reducing entire sections of Lilith to dust. My heart pounds in my chest as I finally breach the edge of the wards. Without wasting a second, I throw down a teleportation circle. The golden blur and its destruction fade from my view as I vanish.

I reappear in the Gremory manor, the usually serene halls now buzzing with alarm. The faint rumble of distant tremors seems to have even reached here.

I bolt through the corridors, ignoring startled servants calling out to me. The only thing on my mind is reaching the familiar power signatures. Skidding to a stop outside a pair of ornate double doors, I blast them open without a second thought.

Inside, Zeoticus and Chysis whirl around to face me, their expressions mirroring the panic I feel. They're pacing like cornered animals, clearly as alarmed as I am.

Pointing at Zeoticus, I bark, "Grab your wife, grab your shit, we're leaving!" I whip my gaze to Chysis, not waiting for a response. "Start the teleportation ritual for the manor! We're ditching this place!"

"W-wait, grandmother, what's—" Zeoticus stammers, but I cut him off with a glare and immediately make a beeline for the vault.

The doors groan as I throw them open, revealing the shelves of servant contracts stored within. With a wave of my hand, a torrent of flames engulfs the scrolls, the crackling fire consuming them in seconds. The contracts are reduced to ash, their bindings broken. At least the servants will be free, even as hell falls apart.

Who the hell invades with a thousand ultimate-class beings?! The thought screams through my mind as I rush back out. That's nearly the entire fighting strength of hell itself! And their leader… no, I can't even think about him without my knees threatening to buckle. His power is beyond anything I've ever felt. Even Lucifer seemed… not that menacing by comparison.

As I sprint through the manor, an earth-shaking explosion rocks the foundations. Dust rains from the ceiling. Shit! They're already here?!

I stumble toward a window, desperate to see what's happening. My breath catches in my throat as I peer outside. The sight before me is devastating.

The entire Gremory Legion—an army that had stood proudly for centuries—is gone. Not defeated, not scattered. Vaporized. Nothing remains but a smoldering crater where their formations once stood.

The ritual is almost done. Almost! I can feel the magic humming, reaching its crescendo, but of course, of course, that's when I see it—a streak of gold, barreling toward the manor like some vengeful, divine bowling ball. 'What even is a bowling ball anyways?'

"Oh, come on!" I shout, already scrambling to the window. My feet tangle in the curtain as I leap through, landing in an ungraceful heap on the ground. Dirt and bits of shrub cling to my uniform as I scramble to my feet. My heart's pounding. My lungs are burning. Why does everything always lead to me in this situation?

The golden blur doesn't slow down. If anything, it's coming faster. "Alright," I mutter, forcing my legs to move. "I've got this. Just thirty seconds. That's all I need. Thirty seconds to be the world's biggest distraction."

The figure is almost on me when I unleash a blast of demonic energy, a desperate, messy wave of crimson light. It hits, and for a split second, I think I've done something impressive. Then the golden aura flares and swallows my attack like it's some kind of snack.

"Of course, you can eat magic," I groan, just as it lunges, spear gleaming. I throw myself to the side, landing flat on my stomach with a graceless "oof." The spear misses me by what feels like millimeters, burying itself into the ground. Dirt and rocks explode into the air, pelting my face.

Scrambling to my feet, I see it pulling its weapon free and coming at me again. "Oh no, you don't!" I shout, hurling another blast of energy. This one manages to shove it back a few feet, but it's not even fazed.

It lunges again, and I duck under the swipe. How is it so fast? My foot catches on something—a rock, a root, I don't know—and I go sprawling onto my back. As I look up, it's already raising the spear, the light glinting ominously off the tip.

"This is it," I mutter, staring death in the face. "This is how I die—"

The figure takes a step forward and slips on the same stupid rock I tripped on. Its balance wobbles for a glorious, ridiculous moment, and I use that precious second to roll to the side. The spear slams into the ground where I was lying, sending another shockwave that rattles my bones.

Scrambling to my feet, I bolt again, practically zig-zagging in case it decides to throw the spear at me. I don't even want to think about what happens if it has good aim. "Just thirty seconds," I gasp, dodging another lunge. "Thirty stupid seconds!"

It's like the universe is testing me. I blast it again, managing to knock it back, but it comes at me even faster. This time, I don't dodge so much as trip again, the momentum of my fall spinning me just out of reach of the spear. I hit the ground hard and roll, covered in dirt, grass, and what I'm pretty sure is someone's discarded shoe.

The golden figure pauses, probably confused about how it hasn't hit me yet. I take the opportunity to grab the shoe and throw it. It bounces off its aura harmlessly, but hey, at least I tried.

"I'm out of ideas!" I yell, ducking another swipe. "Could you slow down? Take a break? Maybe have a snack?"

It doesn't respond—because of course it doesn't—and now it's coming at me again. I'm running backward now, flailing my arms in some misguided attempt to keep it at bay. My legs burn, my chest burns, everything burns, but I'm still moving. Barely.

Then it happens. My salvation. The glow of the ritual intensifies behind me, a bright, comforting light that tells me it's finally done.

I skid to a stop just as the figure lunges again. This time, I don't move. I don't have to. The golden spear stops just short as the teleportation magic engulfs me and the manor.

The last thing I see before the light whisks us away is the golden figure staring at me, probably wondering how in all of hell I survived. Honestly? So am I.

Sentinel No.234

What the hell? I mean… how? This is absolutely ridiculous!

I stand there, staring at the empty patch of ground where, mere seconds ago, the manor and that mind-bogglingly lucky devil had been. Now? Nothing. Just a collection of humans in servant's clothes, sitting on the dirt with the same dazed expressions I probably have.

I run a hand over my helmet, still gripping my weapon tightly. How?! How does someone survive that? It wasn't skill. It wasn't strategy. It was dumb luck—an almost comical sequence of near-misses and divine timing so absurd it feels like the universe itself decided to play a prank on me.

My comm crackles to life, pulling me from my thoughts. "Brother, is everything alright on your end?" The voice is steady, concerned.

I take a moment to gather myself before responding. "Uhh… yes. The humans are all fine." I glance at the startled servants, some of whom are still blinking as if they've just woken from a dream. I pause, the sheer absurdity of what just happened hitting me all over again. "But you won't believe what just happened until you see the memory crystal."

I glance back at the empty space where the manor used to be, shaking my head in disbelief. How? Just… how?

Viktor Inox

I pivot sharply, spinning my body as Beelzebub and Leviathan attempt to flank me, their attacks coordinated but ultimately futile. Grabbing hold of my glaive, I use it as a pole to vault over both of them, narrowly avoiding a demonic blast hurled by Asmodeus. The air behind me crackles with the force of their combined assaults, but I stay one step ahead.

Mid-air, however, I'm caught off guard as Lucifer's fist slams into me with enough power to send me hurtling across the entire breadth of the ruined city. The sheer force rattles my bones, and I can feel the infernal energy still lingering from the strike. Briefly, I catch a flicker of another demonic presence nearby, but there's no time to focus as Lucifer follows after me with relentless determination.

I hit the ground hard, my boots carving deep trenches into the blackened earth as I dig in to stop my momentum. The force of my landing rips apart what remains of a shattered street, debris scattering in all directions. I barely have time to brace myself as I sense Lucifer's approach, his form hurtling toward me like a living meteor.

Not this time.

At the last possible second, I activate Jumper, vanishing from the ground just as his attack is about to land. I reappear above him, my position granting me the advantage. Drawing inspiration from the Fourth Hokage—a character I remember fondly from my old world—I focus energy into a concentrated blast of golden Glory, channeling it into a precise strike aimed directly at his spine.

The attack connects, the golden energy slamming into Lucifer with devastating force. But before I can press the advantage, I'm tackled mid-air by one of Leviathan's constructs—a massive serpent formed of water, its density so absurd it feels like being crushed by a wall of liquid steel.

The beast coils around me, attempting to constrict and crush me with its immense pressure. With a flex of my Aura, I unleash a burst of power, the sheer force of my will purging the demonic energy holding the serpent together. The water explodes outward in a torrent, drenching the battlefield and momentarily obscuring everyone's vision.

Using the brief reprieve, I track the blatant signature of forming magic. My senses hone in on Asmodeus, the runes of his spell lighting up like a beacon against the darkened backdrop. Without hesitation, I teleport near him, appearing just as he raises his arm to unleash the attack.

My glaive flashes with golden light as I slash at him, the blade grazing his outstretched arm. The Glory embedded within seeps into his flesh, its purifying energy attacking the corrupted blood coursing through his veins. Asmodeus lets out a groan of pain, his arm trembling as the energy momentarily disrupts his focus.

But he's not so easily stopped. Gritting his teeth, he manages to unleash the spell—a concentrated blast of demonic energy that tears through the air, aimed with lethal precision.

I activate Jumper once again, vanishing just as the attack rips through where I had been standing moments before. Reappearing further away, I steady my breathing and take a moment to collect my thoughts.

I watch as Asmodeus's attack slams into the ground with a cataclysmic explosion, carving a trench into the horizon. The force of it shakes the already devastated landscape, sending shockwaves rippling outward. My mind briefly processes the sheer magnitude of what I'm dealing with: beings capable of annihilating entire continents.

The thought lingers for only a moment before I push it aside, my focus snapping back to the battlefield as Beelzebub attempts a sneak attack from behind. A swarm of flies, each buzzing with the unmistakable aura of his vile plague, rushes toward me.

With a wave of my hand, golden flames erupt, incinerating the swarm in an instant. The fire burns unnaturally bright, consuming the tainted creatures as if they were nothing more than dry paper. The foul stench of burning pestilence fills the air, but I don't have the luxury of distraction.

Lucifer, now recovered from my earlier assault, charges at me with a roar that echoes through the battlefield. His voice is a mix of rage and arrogance, his golden eyes blazing with hatred.

"You insignificant mortal!" he bellows, his fists swinging with ferocious intent. Each strike carries enough force to level mountains, but I evade him, my movements precise and calculated. The ground trembles with every blow that misses, cracks spidering out beneath his fists. "Who are you to challenge me?! The true heir of creation?! I will use your skull as a chalice!"

His words are a torrent of fury, but I don't dignify them with a response. Instead, I focus on weaving my next spell through Occultism, my mind racing through its intricate structure. The spell requires careful crafting—any mistake could unravel it entirely.

Lucifer's attacks grow more frenzied, his roars shaking the air as he pours every ounce of his wrath into his strikes. His movements become a blur, his dark light clashing against the golden radiance of my aura as he relentlessly presses forward.

"You think you can defy me?! I am Lucifer, the Morning Star! I am the one who rebelled from God!" His voice is a thunderclap of anger, each word dripping with venom.

As he lunges again, I teleport just as his attack obliterates the ground where I stood. Reappearing behind Leviathan, who has been preparing a massive area attack, I fire the spell I've been weaving.

With a flash of green light, an intricate magic circle takes shape. A debuff spell, simple in theory but painstakingly complex to cast in reality. Unlike the straightforward mechanics of a game, implementing such a spell in the real world requires precision and mastery.

Leviathan stumbles as the spell takes effect, her water constructs faltering mid-air before collapsing in torrents around her. Confusion and frustration flash across her face as she struggles to regain control of her powers, the oppressive weight of the spell rendering her weaker and more vulnerable.

Lucifer roars again in the distance, his rage amplified as he realizes I've once again slipped from his grasp. "You will suffer for this, mortal!" he howls, his voice shaking the battlefield.

Asmodeus gathers his power for another attack, the dark energy coalescing into a devastating force aimed directly at me. Without hesitation, I seize the weakened Leviathan by her arm, her protests turning into a shrill scream as I hurl her into the path of the blast. The impact sends her hurtling out of the immediate battlefield, her form crashing into the rubble far beyond the ruined cityscape.

"You! I'll kill you!" Beelzebub's voice erupts in a guttural snarl, his composure shattered as his rage consumes him. His movements become erratic as he charges me head-on, his signature swarm of plague-ridden flies dissipating in the air.

I see the opportunity and take it. Before the other two can intervene, I rush to meet Beelzebub mid-charge, my movements precise and unrelenting. With a single thrust of my glaive, I pierce his gut, the weapon pouring golden energy into his corrupted form.

"Argh!" Beelzebub groans, his eyes wide with pain and shock as the light seeps into his body, attacking the very essence of his being. His hands claw at the shaft of my weapon, but his strength is already waning under the assault of Glory itself.

Before I can deliver the final blow, Lucifer is on me again, his fists radiating dark energy as he swings with relentless fury. I'm forced to disengage, pulling my glaive free and teleporting out of the way just as his attack obliterates the ground where I stood moments before.

'That's two down, but I don't have much time,' I think, the pressure of their combined assault becoming ever more intense. The battlefield trembles beneath their onslaught, the sheer scale of power warping the environment around us.

Just as Lucifer's next attack crashes toward me, I receive the confirmation I've been waiting for—a telepathic message from one of my Sentinels. "My lord, all humans have been evacuated to the Throne World."

A sense of grim satisfaction washes over me. With the humans safe, the true battle can now begin. I tighten my grip on the glaive, its golden light flaring brighter as I prepare to face the three remaining Satans.

Letting go of the restraints I had placed upon myself, I push my body to its absolute limit. The energy coursing through me is so vast and volatile that I can feel it beginning to unravel the very fibers of my being. I split my focus into two separate instances—one directing my efforts toward the most critical ritual of this mission, and the other fully engaged in combat with the devils.

With a surge of speed that shatters the sound barrier, I appear before Lucifer. My glaive arcs through the air, aiming directly for his form. His initial look of surprise quickly twists into unbridled rage as he raises his arms, cloaked in the unnatural radiance of dark-light, to block my strike. The clash sends a shockwave rippling outward, flattening nearby ruins. My glaive tears into his forearms, sending him staggering back, his snarl echoing across the battlefield.

Before I can press the attack further, Asmodeus's panicked voice cuts through the chaos. "You! You've been hiding your power all along!"

I barely grant him a glance, my focus unwavering as I disrupt the teleportation circle he's been weaving. The sigils and glyphs unravel in a cascade of broken light, vanishing into the ether. My voice carries the weight of finality as I declare, "None leave the slaughterhouse."

Asmodeus's eyes widen, fear spreading across his face as he realizes his escape has been denied. The moment stretches into eternity as I hurl my glaive toward him, its golden brilliance slicing through the thick, acrid air. He screams in pain and terror, twisting his body at the last possible second to avoid a fatal strike. The weapon grazes him, tearing his arm clean off in a spray of blood.

His scream echoes as his severed limb falls, his other hand clutching the bleeding stump in vain. The glaive continues its deadly path, striking a distant mountain with a thunderous impact. The resulting explosion erases the entire peak in an instant, leaving behind only a glowing crater where stone and soil once stood.

Leviathan finally makes her return, her form battered but her determination unbroken. With a furious scream, she summons a massive serpent of water, its form coiling toward me with menacing intent. The construct, however, is visibly weaker than before, its edges fraying and shimmering inconsistently under the strain of her reduced power.

I don't bother dodging. Instead, I push straight through the watery beast, its magic splashing harmlessly against the golden radiance surrounding me. Leviathan's eyes widen in horror as I close the distance between us in a flash, her attempted scream cut off by the grip of my hand on her head.

Without a word, I launch us both toward the ground at blistering speed, the force of impact shaking the earth and creating a massive crater in the ruined terrain. Dust and debris cloud the air as the shockwave ripples outward, toppling what little remains of nearby structures.

Her body twitches beneath my grip, her consciousness already slipping. Without hesitation, I release her head, letting it fall limp against the rubble. Raising my foot high above her prone form, I bring it down with unrelenting force. The sound is almost cathartic—her head bursts like an overripe fruit, spraying blood and ichor across the crater as the rest of her body goes still.

I step back, shaking off the remnants from my armor, my gaze already turning to the remaining devils. "One down," I mutter.

'My body can't take any more,' I think, feeling the edges of my being unraveling under the strain. My gaze cuts through the swirling dust and flickering energy, landing squarely on Lucifer's staggering form. He's recoiling, his aura dimmed but still ferocious.

"Enough time for one last kill."

Summoning what remains of my strength, I use Jumper to teleport directly behind him, my movements a blur. With a surge of power, I bring my heel down in a devastating axe kick, striking his shoulder with enough force to drive him into the ground. The impact sends a deafening shockwave across the battlefield, a massive crater forming where his body smashes into the earth.

Asmodeus, ever the opportunist, begins casting another teleportation circle. This time, I don't stop him. The fight has drained me too much, and I have no time to waste on the fleeing coward.

Instead, I turn my focus to Lucifer, who's slowly crawling from the hole his body created. Gritting my teeth, I pour what remains of my energy into manifesting another Glaive. The construct forms in my hand, radiating a brilliance so intense that it illuminates the entire underworld. The dark, oppressive skies are momentarily driven back, replaced by a golden radiance akin to a rising sun.

Lucifer's gaze snaps upward, his eyes wide with uncharacteristic fear as he registers the sheer power radiating from the weapon. His voice falters, a growl caught in his throat as he scrambles to regain his footing.

But it's too late. With a roar of defiance, I hurl myself toward him, the Glaive slicing through the air, a beacon of humanity's wrath bearing down on the so-called heir of creation.

As my Glaive hurtles toward Lucifer, its radiant edge poised to cleave his head from his body, an explosion of unimaginable power erupts between us. The shockwave tears through the battlefield, hurling me backward like a leaf in a storm.

"STOP!"

The command reverberates across the underworld, not just a sound but a force that roots everything—every being, every fragment of energy—into stunned stillness. Even the oppressive darkness of this dimension falters, subdued by the sheer magnitude of the presence that has entered.

Above, the already fractured sky is split open entirely, as if cleaved by an unseen blade. A torrent of blinding white light cascades downward, piercing the veil of gloom. The radiance crashes into the battlefield, settling just before the kneeling form of Lucifer.

From the heart of the brilliance, a shape begins to form. At first indistinct, it coalesces into a humanoid figure. Its "body" defies mortal understanding—composed of crystalline structures that seem to weave and fold in and out of themselves, like an intricate tesseract rendered in radiant light. Each facet of the figure shimmers with shifting hues, a kaleidoscope of purity and energy that feels both awe-inspiring and suffocating.

The presence radiates power—enough to overshadow mine, at least for now. The weight of it presses down on the battlefield, silencing everything. Even the leftover energy from the fight seems to still, bowing to the sheer authority this being exudes.

It speaks, its voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "I cannot allow you to kill him. He has his own role to play."

I freeze for a moment, my grip tightening on the glaive in my hand. My mind races, analyzing every word, every detail. The figure before me radiates an overwhelming light, its crystalline form shifting and shimmering like a living tesseract. It doesn't take much to figure out who this is.

God. YAHWEH. The Creator. The one behind the sacred gears. The one whose influence has shaped humanity and the supernatural world for millennia.

I force myself to focus, to think. I knew I'd face this being eventually, but I didn't expect it to be now, and not like this. My thoughts churn as I try to reconcile what I know with what I'm seeing.

On one side, there's what I remember from the DxD material. This being created the sacred gears to help humanity, to give them a fighting chance in a world full of creatures far stronger than them. On paper, it's a noble idea. In practice, it turned humanity into a target. Those gears made them hunted, their lives even more precarious in the balance of the supernatural world.

On the other side, there's the undeniable history. The great flood. The Tower of Babel. Events that weren't just stories here—they happened. Acts of divine judgment that shattered humanity's progress, setting them back time and time again. Whether intended as guidance or punishment, the result was always the same: more suffering, more division.

My thoughts feel tangled. This being—this god—isn't just some distant figure. He's actively shaped the world, for better or worse. And now he's here, standing between me and Lucifer, dictating terms like it's his right.

He speaks again, his tone calm but heavy with authority. "You do not have to continue down this path. He is needed for fate to unfold as it should."

I barely listen, my focus sharpening as my thoughts take a new direction. This could be an opportunity—one far better than I initially anticipated.

"There are great threats coming to this reality," he continues, his crystalline form shifting with every word. "But with your help, I see a better path forward."

He stretches out a hand, a gesture that radiates expectation, as though my agreement is a foregone conclusion. "With our combined sacrifices, we can seal the Beast entirely, ensuring that future generations have a chance to resist the invaders to come."

My mind immediately connects the dots, and the implications raise more questions than answers. Questions that, for now, are unimportant. I've already made my decision. Still, I decide to play along, speaking to buy time while my plan takes shape.

"I see," I say evenly. "And in this future of yours, how does humanity fare? Be honest, or whatever plans you have are dead where they stand."

He pauses, his crystalline structure flickering faintly before he nods. His voice takes on a pained quality, as if delivering an inconvenient truth. "I am afraid humanity will never become the unrivaled paragon you seek. They will still remain beneath the other races."

I feel a snarl tug at the edges of my composure, but I suppress it, locking my emotions behind a wall of control.

"That is a small sacrifice," he continues, his tone carrying an air of righteousness that grates against me, "in the face of extinction. If we do not follow my plan, the entire universe will perish."

His words hang in the air, but all I can feel is the weight of my growing resolve.

A part of my mind—the logical, calculating side—whispers that, from his perspective, what he's doing is right. This moment provides answers to questions that have long plagued me about the God of this universe. Why did he sacrifice himself? Why didn't he simply kill Lucifer outright?

The answer seems to lie in his so-called "plan." He's known to be the most powerful clairvoyant, his abilities bordering on omniscience. He must have foreseen the breaking of Trihexa's seal, the ExE invasion, and the countless calamities that would follow. His goal, noble in its intent, is clear: survival at any cost.

But I reject it vehemently.

It doesn't matter if the alternative is the destruction of this universe. Worst-case scenario, I will bring the entirety of humanity into the Throne World, shielding them from these events. I will not allow my people to remain mere cattle to the supernatural factions—fodder for devil recruitment, batteries of faith for the gods, food for the vampires.

I refuse to accept a future where humanity's fate is servitude, where their potential is shackled by the whims of others. If God cannot see a better path for them, then I will make one myself.

None of this turmoil shows on my face as he continues speaking, his tone calm yet urgent. "You can stop now. If you continue, you will unmake your body."

I take a deep breath, focusing inward even as I intensify my pull on the dimensional gap. Energy surges through me like a raging torrent, tearing at my body from within.

"What are you doing?! If you continue, you will die!" His voice rises, tinged with alarm.

He doesn't understand. He can't. The thread of thought I've been dedicating to the ritual is ready now; the preparation is complete. I've bought enough time. My body radiates energy, glowing with a blinding brilliance as cracks form on my flesh. The searing pain is a twisted comfort, a visceral reminder of the resolve that fuels me.

I meet his gaze and speak with quiet finality, my voice steady despite the chaos around me. "I reject your plan. I refuse to follow the whims of a being who wears so many masks—a being who, for its own pride, has cast mankind down from its glories. A being who, through its convoluted rules, has brought humanity to the brink of extinction."

The intensity in my voice sharpens. "While I can respect the weight of what you're trying to achieve, I will not allow your future to pass. Humanity will not be shackled by your plans, nor will I let it perish for your vision of balance. If I must burn countless times to ensure their freedom, so be it."

All around me, runes and sigils erupt into existence, spiraling outward to cover the entire sky and beyond. The air hums with overwhelming power as the symbols of Occultism blaze with golden light. This is my greatest tool, my ultimate weapon—Occultism, the art that makes anything possible with enough energy… or sacrifice.

I feel my body unraveling, golden motes flaking off into the ether as the ritual takes its toll. The pain is distant now, a faint echo of what's happening. The ritual is fulfilling its purpose: to seal the underworld from the other planes of existence. No one will enter or leave this wretched dimension so long as these seals hold. This is the cost I willingly pay.

I smile to myself, committing this moment to memory—a moment of defiance etched in gold. A man standing against God's plan, not out of rebellion for rebellion's sake, but for the unyielding ambition to carve a future for humanity.

"No! Stop this!" His voice booms, desperate, as he tries to obliterate the forming magic. But it's futile. The ritual is already complete, its mechanisms set into motion.

I glance at him one last time, a grin spreading across my face even as I continue to disintegrate. "We'll see each other again…" My voice is calm, laced with a dark amusement.

I let out a laugh, sharp and defiant, before delivering my final words. "Until then… screw you, God! You and your bitch-ass son! Hahahahahaha!"

As the last of me unravels into radiant motes of gold, the ritual's light consumes everything, sealing the underworld in a prison of its own making.

Raynare

I sit comfortably on Viktor's throne, casually polishing my nails and humming a tune he taught me. The seat, I must admit, is very agreeable—perfectly contoured to my backside.

As I'm lost in my own thoughts, a sudden eruption of golden light beneath me jolts me upright. "Huh!?"

Before I can fully process what's happening, I'm flung upward with a startled yelp. The throne room, previously silent and empty, fills with a booming laugh that echoes like thunder.

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

I land unceremoniously in Viktor's lap, my face smushed against his chest as he grabs me in an almost crushing embrace.

"Hahahaha! Rayray, you won't believe what I just pulled off!" he declares, his voice brimming with excitement and pride, the laughter still bubbling out of him.

My face flushes as I push myself roughly away from him, glaring. "Y-you! What do you think you're doing?"

He just keeps grinning, that infuriatingly charming, overconfident smile plastered across his face. 'No! Bad, Rayray! Don't think that!' I scold myself as he finally speaks, his tone smug.

"I just bought us at least a few decades until God becomes a problem again."

My thoughts screech to a halt. I blink. "What. Did. You. Do."

He begins to explain, his tone casual—as if he hadn't just defied one of the most powerful beings in existence. As his words sink in, I can feel my jaw dropping lower and lower, until it practically brushes the floor.

"You did what!?" I manage to sputter, my voice rising with disbelief.

"Oh, it gets better," he says with that insufferable smirk, producing what he calls a "memory crystal." He holds it out like a prized trophy, the gleaming artifact containing a full recording of the event.

As the story unfolds in vivid detail, my disbelief only grows. My fingers twitch as I resist the urge to either applaud his sheer audacity or throttle him for it.

'Oh, heaven help me,' I think as the weight of what he's done settles in. 'This is going to cause ripples. Massive, universe-shaking ripples.'