Agharna’s personal ship drifted silently trough the sea—its black-metal frame pulsing with quiet, ominous energy. In the central chamber, Ravager leaned against a pillar, arms folded, his fangs bared in thought. Slitherin hung from the ceiling, swaying like a hammock, bored. Fenroth stood by the rail, staring coldly at the horizon.

  “I don’t like this,” Ravager growled.

  “We haven’t heard from Agharna in too long,” Fenroth muttered.

  Slitherin hissed lazily. “He’s probably killing something slow.”

  Suddenly—a pulse of purple light cracked the air in the room. A devil emerged, hovering above the ground, smiling with elegance and menace. His coat was tailored, blood-red and stitched with phrases in Latin. His horns curled backward like sculpted obsidian.

  Beside him stood a woman—calm, hands folded, eyes half-lidded with polite serenity.

  Agharna's body floated in beside them, suspended by a spell.

  Ravager's sword was half-drawn in a blink. “Put him down.”

  “Oh, please,” the devil said, waving his hand. “He’s fine. I simply teleported him… with style.”

  The woman added softly, “He’s not hurt. Just sleeping.”

  Agharna stirred and slowly opened his eyes. “...The hell...?”

  “Welcome back, darling bear,” the devil cooed, smiling with sharp teeth. “I've been watching you.”

  Agharna growled. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “My name? Irrelevant. What matters is this—” The devil spread his arms theatrically. “Join me. You, and I—two forces of domination. I have power, status, intelligence beyond mortals... but I need muscle. Presence. Fear. You.”

  Fenroth's eyes narrowed. “And if he says no?”

  The devil’s smile widened. “Then I turn you all into art. I’m quite good at turning people into statues... with their minds still alive.”

  Fukushū, stepping forward from the shadows with a new robe and fresh bruises, pointed at Kenji’s name in the air. “Forget the bear—I want revenge on Kenji! He humiliated me! Gut-punched me! Twice!”

  Ravager chuckled. “You’re gonna have a hard time with that, nerd.”

  “Shut up, furry!” Fukushū snapped.

  The devil clapped once. “Enough. You want revenge, I want power, and Agharna... wants a challenge.”

  Agharna stood fully now, shaking off the magic with a crack of his neck. His eyes met the devil’s. “And what do you really want?”

  The devil’s grin dropped—just for a second. His voice, lower now: “To take everything. Heaven, hell, the land between. I’m tired of rules.”

  He walked forward, casually reciting:

  “And if I must drag all gods screaming from their thrones,

  Let me do so with ink, with blood, with bone.”

  Ravager blinked. “Did you just... quote yourself?”

  “Yes,” the devil said, deadly serious. “And it was excellent.”

  The calm woman gave a small nod. “He’s right. It was solid.”

  Agharna’s eyes glinted. He looked to his men—Fenroth expressionless, Slitherin chuckling, Ravager half-curious.

  He smirked. “You’ve got one minute to impress me.”

  The devil’s eyes flared red with ambition. “That’s all I need.”

  The devil’s crimson cloak billowed as he snapped his fingers—and suddenly the room twisted. Reality cracked, the walls vanished, and everyone stood atop a floating disk suspended in an infinite red void.

  Slitherin hissed. “What the—?!”

  “Relax,” the devil purred. “This is my Imaginarium. A thought-space built to mirror... temptation.”

  The disk shifted. Below them, cities burned, people screamed, empires crumbled in silence, all under a sky the color of blood. Smoke rose like ribbons.

  Agharna’s gaze flicked across the destruction—unimpressed.

  "Seen it," he muttered.

  The devil grinned wider, teeth sharp and gleaming. “Ah, but have you felt it?”

  He raised his hand again.

  Instantly, Agharna stood atop a throne, forged from living flesh and melted gold. Below him, legions knelt—kings, warriors, monsters, gods—all bowed in agony, their bodies shackled by thorned chains, their mouths sewn shut.

  The scent of wine, fire, and bloodlust perfumed the air.

  "I can give you this," the devil whispered, appearing beside him like a shadow. “An entire realm of indulgence. You will never want for battle, pleasure, or adoration. You can tear down entire planets and bathe in their ruin.”

  He leaned close to Agharna’s ear.

  “No rules. No gods above you. No council to leash you. Just… you.”

  Agharna’s eyes flared just slightly. His claws twitched.

  Ravager narrowed his gaze. “He’s enjoying this.”

  Fenroth’s voice was low. “He’s... curious.”

  The devil continued, walking along the edge of the disk, trailing sparks behind his boots. “And if cruelty is your art… why not have a gallery? Every enemy that’s wronged you, every weakling who looked at you funny—I'll gather them for you. Let you break them. One by one. Forever.”

  He snapped again—

  A massive colosseum rose beneath them, filled with cages, torches, and echoing screams. In the center, Eleo appeared—only a conjured illusion—kneeling, chained.

  “I know your pride, Agharna. And I know the sting of defeat,” the devil said. “Let me help you crush it. I want your strength. You want revenge, pleasure, chaos. We’re the same.”

  Agharna stared at the illusion of Eleo. His muscles tensed.

  Then… he laughed. Just once. A slow, growling chuckle.

  "You talk too much," he said, voice like cracked stone. "But I do like the way you think."

  The devil bowed low, theatrical. “Then say the word—and this little alliance begins.”

  But Agharna raised one clawed finger.

  “One condition.”

  The devil looked up, eager.

  “I’m in charge.”

  The devil’s grin twitched—just for a second—but he bowed again.

  “Of course, of course... whatever makes you feel important.”

  Ravager cracked his knuckles. “This is gonna end badly.”

  Slitherin smirked. “I hope so.”

  Fenroth said nothing—but his hand drifted subtly toward his blade.

  Above them, the Imaginarium’s skies bled darker, and somewhere in the distance, reality began to buckle.

  The world had just changed.