For a long time, Dante didn't know anything aside from fear. Hours after the night void had passed, he remained rooted in that position, his thoughts a hurdle to sift through.What is real? He had no answer to that; only the steady beating of his heart in his chest made him feel alive. Aside from that… nothing else. His new arms didn't make him feel anything but unreal, and not in a good way. Many things had happened to him, but he was steadily leaning towards the trepidation phase.But how could he live in fear when everything in his life was fear-made? "It's not always bad here," Cincinnati said, and he wondered when she joined him. Even though it was day, the mornings would never feel the same again, not after everything."You could have fooled me," Dante replied, a bitter laugh coming from his throat. It was a sound he didn't recognise; it felt alien to him and his experiences.This place is finally getting to me."When I first got here, I was despair-filled. I wanted to die, to
Dante let the words pour out unchecked. He didn't care if it got him kicked out; he still didn't feel like he was a part of a family, just playing the part of an outsider looking in. "See? Self-absorbed," Cincinnati was smiling, and Dante wasn't sure he'd ever seen her smile. "You didn't need to praise me so hard," Gilgamesh materialised before him, and so did Esme, Crystal, and Darkus. "What's going on?" Dante turned to Cincinnati, feeling betrayed for the first time. "You always hold back; you never say the things you wish. I went to The Graveyard and asked Alan for tips to get you to loosen up. He suggested making you think you were all alone with a pretty girl. That worked, surprisingly. Are you a pervert?" Dante would have taken Gilgamesh seriously if not for the smirk on his face. Oh, I am the one who pushed them away. "Darkus doesn't talk to you because he's painfully shy. He speaks only when spoken to, and you've never reached out to him, have you?" Crystal had a
Moriarty Wentworth knew the name of things. And he used them ruthlessly. He knew of how things worked and the true nature of their beings.His name wasn't a joke; he earned it, fighting tooth and nail to survive. He formed his first sigil when he crossed a threshold that he couldn't before. It started when he was a boy.Moriarty had always been a precocious child, obsessed with learning how things worked and how to bridge the gap between fact and fiction. He didn't believe in things like luck, fate, or destiny.They were all bogus concepts to him. He attended an academy of the gifted, but it didn't mean much. He was bored of their antics and how they strutted about like they owned the place. He was an aristocrat from Bellamy, a state in Velor. Unlike Selene, Bellamy was a place where only the strong survived. Of the ten states that made up Velor, three of them were a law unto themselves, and Selene stood at the precipice. Bellamy ranked second, but it was one of the least liked. In
"You are a Wentworth. Our enemies must not catch wind of this, lest they try to turn you against your real family." The powerfully built back was all Moriarty could stare at, his father never talked to him face to face, he never saw a reason to. And Moriarty had been the best at practically everything. But, there was no acknowledgement. In his father's words, "That much is expected from a Wentworth." And so, the first spark of the rebellion festered in his heart, and Moriarty knew that his father would never see him as more than a tool. And Moriarty just wanted his father to call him by name. After that, he started sneaking out in the night, setting fire to things. The flames spoke to him, they told him of a world he could rule. They told him he could change everything.He believed them.At first, he went alone. Setting fires to little things like pig pens, a patch of grass, etc. Bellamy still lived in an era of aristocracy, where merchants ruled the land. So, he set fires to bar
Raven knew something was amiss. She wasn't a big fan of nosiness, but The Order was being hush-hush as usual, and she needed action. For some reason, her mind was uneasy. Something was up, and either Alistair didn't know about it, or it was something he didn't want to tell her.She was Number 9 and part of the lowest echelons in The Executives. Honestly, she felt like the news usually got to her last. The one bright spot in her life was Moriarty, and he wasn't available. Then, there was Zero, her pet project. He was someone who made her laugh at various moments. He didn't even know that; he just lived, and she observed. But Moriarty was on another level entirely. He was a part of a different state, Bellamy, but she wasn't bothered because he was someone who had principles he stood by, no matter what. But the uneasiness didn't leave. It intensified.The feast laid out on her table didn't entice her; it didn't make her feel anything but pissed off. She wasn't in the mood for food, w
That's why Selene became known as The City of Selene and how it was regarded as a world power despite being a part of a whole: Velor. And now, with the shapeshifting sigil, The City of Selene had become the controller of Velor. Raven saw it coming from a mile away and wondered when the other countries would catch wind of what was happening in Velor. For many years, the assassination of the president was impossible because of the one called the One Man Army. But he left his king's side. And he caused the death of the one he was meant to be loyal to.After Velor, the next was the Emperor of Anthras, and the power he held was groundbreaking. He had three of the most powerful people in the world, so powerful that The Order had vague impressions of them. Nothing could be gotten from their actions, and they acted independently in the continent's interest. They were never to be crossed. Each of the three was regarded as powerful as a country and stood alone. At The Order's level, they were
Khalifa never called them sigils. He felt weird whenever he did that. Because those things weren't normal, they were a stigma he wanted to do about with.But he couldn't because he was one of those stigmas. His was the power of observation, and he found it useless. It didn't change anything, neither did it make things better. He was right where he started, unable to do anything.The very idea of sigils started making his stomach turn when he was a child. And the day that made him decide to be a bystander."When you grow up, Khalifa, do not forget the world is unkind. Help, but only when it benefits you," Khalifa's father held a bewildered Khalifa by his shoulder, and Khalifa listened, even though he didn't like the subject of discussion."Musa, stop traumatizing our son. Tell him good things, as other parents do," his mother chided his father, who had the grace to look abashed."But why, dad? Why should I not help?" He asked, a six-year-old child learning the rudiments of the world."
"My name? This is a weird place to ask me out; you know that, right?" He listened to her voice, even if he knew she was in unbearable pain. He didn't try pulling her out; he could see that her legs had been crushed."This isn't weird. What's weird is that buffoon making its way over here. It's slow," Khalifa laughed out loud, but it was the most bitter laugh that'd ever escaped his lips. It was laughter trapped in despair."Yes, very slow. Can you describe it for me? When you do, I'll give you my name then." He felt things he couldn't name, but the strange girl experiencing the last of her life pushed him forward, making him see a world he'd always ignored."Okay. A red Defender throws darts of ice at the beast, and its roar is enough to rattle the heavens. A girl with platform powers is stepping on platforms in the air, firing shots through a plasma gun. But the beast is impervious to plasma, a weird phenomenon. It's unsteady; a blue Defender launched a pincer attack from behind, hit