“Then I made him scream— he looked at this visage of his wife, then I killed him— my spears entered that bastard’s body like a magic trick. And abracadabra— he turned into one of my most extravagant kills.” An Imp was speaking in a cave, sitting down at a table with three other people— dimly lit, only they were permitted there.

  The Imp had a scar under their eye— still short stature however their tail was evidently more jagged— more bruised and bloodied. They were wearing clothes— a black mesh shirt— cut into several articles barely covering their lean physique— a crimson cape shawl that paired alongside their ruby sweatpants.

  A yellow glint in their eyes spiralled as they sharpened their teeth— one tooth sticking it out, vibrating— “Gabriel hunny— you got to be more precise with your aim on that dingy bow, last time you almost shot me and Hecate you darn fool!”

  “Shut your mouth Zero, whatever.” A voice came from opposite the circular shabby table.

  A taller gentleman dominated above the Imp, a crimson— bloodied medieval leather fur-coat which cloaked his body head to toe; a black and white mask— one side smiling whilst the other smiled, emerald green eyes glowed whilst his coat twitched. “Sorry Hecate— still trying my best with the bow.” The former second saint grabbed the shoulder of the girl beside him before it was flung off hastily.

  She was almond skinned— Medean, her eyes hazel and her nose upturned, she glanced at Gabriel— chuckling, loudly; she was dressed in: a white collared shirt, pitch black heels— similarly a grey fedora and a yellow trench coat. “Khan— know your place as number four.” Hecate the Principle snapped her hand.

  One man who was sitting next to Zero shot up— bowing, “I don’t know why I follow you— number 3.”

  “Relax yourself Number 2— it’s for all of our sakes, sorry Ozy.” Hecate smirked— she sipped a cup of tea as the man stomped his foot.

  “Ozymandias.” The man was huge— largest in stature, his physique— greek as golden curls laid on his head as if it was a bouquet of flowers— a pale green leaf covering crotch.

  “King of Kings—”

  “Yeah we know— shut up already.” A skeletal finger pointed at the man from the entrance, a deep, dark abyss— he stood still regardless.

  “Horseman— what news do you give us today?” Ozymandias slammed both hands into his pelvis— a power stance as in front of him stood a ghoul.

  “Ivory the First is on other business— you won’t see em for a while.” The ghoul lit a cigarette in their mouth: charcoal, navy suit— shoulders broad alongside a double breasted jacket, ten golden signet rings plastered along all the fingers as a deep brown trilobite hat covered his face— canine features— subtle snout and predatory teeth, pale white skin and rubbery skin which dripped like a mask. Their eyes glowed black— noir.

  “Famine. What luck seeing you here— always with the Lord.” Zero spat on the ground— before looking up at the ghoul, imposing and not even flinching.

  “I’d love to make your acquaintance more Imp, but troubling matters concern us.” He whisked his fingers at the table— creating a mechanical television that broadcasted in black and white. An announcer was on the screen— his face grimaced— fluffy hair with a ruby tie that did not pair alongside their lime green suit. He was stanced in a battlefield, in Medea— the streets roamed with protestors and people behind, still waving flags symbolising Jonah— the Reprisal, siren interrupted his dialogue.

  “Breaking News! The Lord Samiel of Invalia has decided to go to war with the entirety of Omalga! Reasons? Unknown— all that is known so far is that three of her elite soldiers: Teysu, Cerberus and Avarie have been going through the world— killing, enslaving and even raping innocent civilians who come across their way! They also keep mentioning Armageddon— the end of the world, there will be more news as we get further information— Kia Ragel signing off.”

  The television shut off— an empty silence filled the room.

  “So we kill these fuckers who are on our turf?” The Imp’s mouth liquidated as Gabriel punched them from the other side of the table— sending them tumbling towards the ground. They peered from the ground— seeing the piercing eyes darted at them— the mask’s frown began to grin— silently.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “That’s reckless— you just use this carnage as an excuse to inact your own. You haven’t changed at all— even after the Reprisal, you still see nothing as different! What a junkie.”

  The mask reverted as Gabriel sat down— Hecate clapping.

  “Really poetic from you, Archangel. Doesn’t help us in the slightest if we are attacking each other.” The woman leered— she placed the cup down, empty. “What do you say Famine?”

  “Send the pucks— capture not kill these rascals, only one needed for interrogation, they are expendable so we won’t lose anything.” The Ghoul spoke with delicacy.

  “You like one of them though— the one who was in the Reprisal with you.” Ozymandias tapped his chin before exclaiming, “Oh yeah! Lichness!”

  “He is the First Commander— I don’t see how he’d die against such terrorists, if so then the Slavi— you people, will avenge him.” Famine’s teeth gritted— slimy and sticky.

  “That’s worst case— anyway hows Mog? He hasn’t woke up yet has he?” Gabriel tilted their head at the ghoul who simply shook his head.

  “Alright then.” Zero chuckled from the ground, “Let’s wait— let’s be reactionary.”

  Gabriel folded his hands and watched the static loop on the screen, face unreadable under the mask. Hecate traced the rim of her teacup, poised and dangerous. Ozymandias flexed, eager for action. Famine crushed his cigarette in a ring of ash and looked toward the cave mouth, where the world — and a new war — burned outside.

  “Ahahahaha!” A teenaged boy was flying across a neon futuristic city in Medea— destroying it instantly with each vibration of their torn and ragged baby blue cape their white asylum shirt, ripped jeans, mangled shoes fluttered in the air as they looked below— worlds above the destruction.

  Fires present, buildings collapsing as people tried to get up— away, safe. His spiralling eyes landed on a woman in particular— she had long brunette hair— flowing from her scalp to her legs which was in a peach three piece set.

  “Bingo.” His mouth spluttered as he stared at some of the metal debris beside her. It captured her— circling around her thighs before lifting upwards— into the air, into his arms which lied open.

  Her screams— her terror, it was lustful to Teysu as he puckered his lips.

  “Come to your future.” His voice— daunting, as the woman’s pale skin dissolved in colour— she faded out of consciousness.

  BANGCLATRATBAT!

  A jagged sword clashed against Teysu’s head, he lost grip on the magnetism as the girl dropped rapidly towards the ground— inch, by inch till splatter.

  “Don’t worry— I save people!” A voice came from below as a goolike substance softened the blow— carrying the woman downwards.

  “Thank you!” She squirmed before running away— Psylaiso smiled, she looked the same— her pink crystallised appearance however she wore an emblem, a spiral on the back of her neck, glowed in the sun as the fires cooled due to her presence, “Saraline! Up to you to kill that bastard!”

  “On it!” A voice from above screeched— above Teysu as the boy looked up to get slammed down to the ground.

  “You fucking!” His voice muffled as it was gripped by the warrior.

  Saraline was dressed in a dull silver poncho— her royal vibrant cape floated in the air as she had leather boots which thudded to the ground, The crimson-gold spiral burned on her cape — jagged, rebellious— her face scarred as a Cheshire emerged on her face— cheek to cheek, even bleeding a little— her slender but muscular hands gripped onto Teysu’s face as she began to spin him around.

  “Mhggfn!” He mumbled as Saraline’s poncho began to turn on her— enveloping her head in a strong material as she dropped the teen.

  “Fucking hell—” He was punched— she broke out of it, the poncho undamaged as she began to release a barrage on him.

  “ALI ALI ALI ALI ALI!” She uppercut the boy into the sky— as he was caught by a monstrous figure. Orange claws wrapped around his torso as he began to budge.

  “Rallio!” Psylaiso cheered, “Throw!”

  The Kaiju did as told and threw the boy at Saraline who clobbered the boy back and forth.

  “Enough!” He screeched— his voice echoing as the others clutched their ears, “Who the fuck is that there!” He pointed at an army— approaching.

  Lichness was walking— covered head to toe in green camo as combat hat covered his eyes.

  Hundreds— hell maybe even thousands of pucks arrived— carrying guns, pistols and weapons.

  However contra to what they’d believe would happen if one teenager was surrounded by an armada of combatants.

  Teysu cachinated.

  “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! All this! For ME? Teysu Hama! And you bastards brought me some food as well! Thank you!” He spread his arms out— attempting to magnetise the guns.

  It failed.

  His laughter stopped.

  Teysu— shivered.

  He spread his arms out again, screeching— “Now come to me!”

  Nothing happened.

  “These aren’t real guns in the metallic sense— of course we’d come prepared, Medea made all of my battalion— have wraith guns.” Lichness ordered a soldier to pass him one— he punched through it, like air— it reconstructed, “See— Famine helped as well.”

  “Now— fire.” He flung his cadaverous arm at the boy who was panicking— as an ensemble of false bullets rained on him.

  “Fuck! I’ll recuperate!” Teysu screeched.

  With a final panicked glare, he bolted upward, vanishing into orbit.

  Ash and silence followed.

  Saraline snarled, knuckles bloody. “We should’ve finished that bastard.”

  Lichness lowered his weapon. “We’ll finish him next time. For now, why are rebels occupying Medean government affairs?”

  Rallio de transformed, the Kaiju mutating into a smaller frame— revealing a teenage Dara— wearing circular glasses and a bleached lab coat, her hair in a bun, “Going to arrest us?”

  “No— but you should leave, my kindness due to our past connections may fade at any moment now.” The Lich licked his lips as he turned around— walking back with his army in front of him.

  The three rebels stood together— proud before running off…

  the end is nigh for a world of three.