12 journey of avatars 2

In a realm of molten golden rivers and shimmering oceans, where ethereal clouds graced the skies and opulent structures adorned the landscape, a resplendent woman with eyes of pure gold and hair as dark and silky as the midnight sky reclined on an ornate throne. The subtle curve of her lips displayed a gentle smile that gradually transformed into a contemplative frown, her senses alerting her to a presence beyond the borders of her divine domain. With a graceful gesture, she extended her influence to admit the newcomer, who materialized before her. The visitor, a figure of deference, offered a slight bow as she addressed the seated woman.

"Greetings, Goddess Ket," she spoke with respect. "To what do I owe the unexpected honor?"

The newly arrived woman, dressed in an elegant white gown, responded with a radiant smile that conveyed warmth and familiarity. "Bassy! You know I've missed you," she exclaimed, a hint of playfulness in her voice. She then let out a pout, her features contorting in mock sadness. "And you've been holding back on the invitations lately, haven't you?" Her tone lightened as she finished with a chuckle.

However, the expression on Bassy's face shifted from light-hearted to exasperated. "What do you want, Ket?" she inquired, her voice tinged with a note of impatience.

Bassy's irritation was palpable as she observed Ket's dramatic antics. The vibrant gestures and theatrical flourishes that accompanied Ket's words only seemed to fuel her exasperation. She crossed her arms, a clear indication of her impatience. "Come on, Bass, you've been drifting away from me ever since we ascended. It's painful," Ket lamented, her voice carrying a mixture of genuine hurt and exaggerated theatricality.

Bass's annoyance deepened, her expression hardening. "Why are you here, Ket?" she demanded, her tone cutting through Ket's melodrama.

Ket's demeanor shifted abruptly, a sly grin playing at her lips. "Alright, alright. I'm here to discuss something rather fascinating," she admitted, her tone now more composed. With an inviting gesture, she moved closer to Bass.

Bass regarded her warily, suspicion etching her features. "Is it about the new pantheon that suddenly emerged in the divine realm?" she questioned pointedly.

Ket's eyes widened in surprise. "You already knew?" she asked, a note of disappointment lacing her words.

Bass's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Yes, most of the divine community is aware of it. One of their gods fell the moment they appeared. It's quite intriguing, I must say," she responded, her tone dripping with amusement. "Just the thought of it excites me."

Ket's expression brightened again, her disappointment quickly replaced by curiosity. "So, do you have a plan to interfere with them?" she inquired, her eyes gleaming with intrigue.

Bass shook her head with a smirk. "Oh no, not at this point. We still don't know how they managed to locate Klaruth's divine realm. I'd prefer to bide my time and observe for now. After all, we know very little about them," she explained. A mischievous glint entered her eyes as she added, "But I'm definitely looking forward to the next divine council meeting. Aren't you?"

Ket's grin mirrored Bass's mischievousness. "Oh, absolutely. It's scheduled in a few years, isn't it? I hope they attend in their true divine forms. It would be quite the spectacle," she mused, her amusement evident.

In the realm of the abyss, Raven's avatar materialized amidst a dark and desolate terrain. The surroundings were eerie, with a blood-red sky casting an ominous hue over the barren land. As she floated forward, she couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. These landscapes bore a striking resemblance to the lands her father had once conquered—a memory that sent shivers down her spine.

Raven's thoughts raced, and she couldn't help but recall Nyxar's insistence that this was a daunting task only she could undertake. The weight of her responsibility settled heavily upon her shoulders. She realized the potential for immense power that lay ahead if she embraced the darkness, but she also knew the risks. Succumbing to evil could provide her strength, but it would also make her susceptible to her father's control—an outcome she was determined to avoid.

In this new universe of the abyss, her father's influence couldn't touch her, and that was a freedom she intended to capitalize on. Her internal struggle was momentarily halted as her attention was drawn to an unusual sight: a fisher in the vast emptiness of space. The ethereal display depicted countless floors within the abyss, stretching out like a cosmic stairway.

Acting on her purpose, Raven quickly tapped into her abilities and accessed the knowledge shared by Kaguya. She conjured a portal, selecting the 950th floor—the location recommended by her deity companion. With a surge of energy, she stepped through the portal, her determined will driving her onward in this unfamiliar, ominous realm.

As Raven floated forward on the 950th floor of the abyss, she was met with an unexpected sight. Unlike the chaotic and savage nature of many abyssal floors, this one seemed to be inhabited by demonic creatures that exhibited a degree of civilization—though a crude one at best. The landscape was scattered with small huts, and the inhabitants appeared to be going about their daily lives.

Her keen observation allowed her to deduce that these creatures were relatively weak, surviving by avoiding the more dangerous and chaotic war plains and instead focusing on protecting this particular floor. As she continued to survey the scene, Raven maintained her cautious approach, aware that her presence had likely not gone unnoticed by the floor guardian—a formidable entity tasked with overseeing the realm's safety.

True to her instincts, a being materialized before her—a portly demon whose appearance exuded laziness. Its droopy eyes and gray skin gave off an air of nonchalance, though Raven was well aware that appearances could be deceiving. She braced herself for a potential encounter, her posture poised and her awareness heightened. The demon guardian regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and casualness, seemingly unbothered by her presence.

Raven's focus remained sharp, ready for any interaction that might follow. She knew that beneath the surface, the abyss held both potential allies and adversaries, and she was prepared to navigate this intricate realm to fulfill her mission.

The rotund demon regarded her with a languid silence, and just as the atmosphere threatened to become awkward, he drawled in a slow voice, "Hellooo... I am one of the avatars of the Demon Prince of Sloth. Tell me, what gave you the stones to come here?" His arrogant words were delivered with the same drowsy undertone, as if he might nod off in the next second. Raven was taken aback by the way he carried himself, yet she had diligently studied the most potent figures of the abyss, and she was well-acquainted with their significance. These were the Seven Demon Princes—entities far more potent than the demon kings of the abyss. Each of them represented a distinct sin that plagued mortals.

These powerful beings chose to maintain avatars on various floors of the abyss for a multitude of reasons—ranging from their intrigue with specific races to their desire for rare resources. However, unlike the avatars of ordinary gods or even Raven's own avatar, the demon princes did not actively control their avatars. They existed as separate entities, with their own thoughts and motives. It was this autonomy that had driven Raven to take action against one of them—an avatar. She knew there wouldn't be immediate retaliation, but she had sown the seeds of a consequence that would eventually haunt her.

Raven inhaled deeply, summoning a wellspring of power she had rarely tapped into before. In a startling twist of fate, she decided to release it—unleash it in its full, raw form. For a fleeting moment, time itself seemed to hold its breath as the very fabric of reality trembled. The demon's drowsy eyes widened in unmistakable surprise, transfixed by the overwhelming surge of dark energy emanating from Raven's being. What followed was a sight that would be etched into the abyssal creature's memory forever.

The transformation was both eerie and captivating. As the malevolent energy enveloped her, Raven's appearance morphed into something almost otherworldly. Two additional pairs of blood-red eyes manifested above her usual set, their gaze piercing the shadows like fiery beacons. Her once-pale complexion turned as dark as the abyss itself, an inky blackness that seemed to absorb all light around her. Even her lower extremities dissolved, replaced by an array of writhing tendrils that extended like the very essence of darkness.

The demon, initially rooted in place, found himself involuntarily taking a step back. His words tumbled out in a mixture of shock and uncertainty. "W...what the hell are you?" His voice, slow as ever, now held a tremor of apprehension.

From Raven's transformed form, a chorus of voices, a symphony of echoes, resonated as if emanating from the depths of countless souls. It was a voice that transcended the boundaries of individuality, speaking as a culmination of all that she was and all that she had absorbed. Each word carried an ethereal weight, a palpable authority that reverberated through the very air itself.

"I AM RACHEL ROTH, THE NEW DEMON QUEEN OF THE 950th FLOOR OF THE ABYSS," the proclamation thundered with an undeniable command. The utterance itself seemed to carve its presence into the very fabric of the abyssal realm, announcing her newfound dominion over this territory. "LEAVE NOW AND YOU WILL LIVE, FIGHT AND YOU WILL DIE"! The ultimatum hung in the air like an unbreakable decree, a promise of mercy for those who retreated and an unyielding threat to those who dared oppose her.

The demon prince, once nonchalant and drowsy, now stood on the precipice of an existence-altering decision. The weight of Rachel's newfound power pressed upon him, the air around them heavy with the gravity of her presence. His eyes flickered between the abyssal queen's transformed form and the ominous energy that radiated from her. In that profound moment, his choice would seal his fate.

The demon prince's nonchalant attitude persisted even in the face of Raven's formidable transformation. With a casual sigh and a snap of his fingers, the core of the realm materialized before him, a clear sign of his control over this floor of the abyss. His demeanor suggested a reluctance to engage in a strenuous conflict, a sentiment that Raven could strangely empathize with.

"I'm too lazy to be fighting such a troublesome person," he conceded, his tone carrying a mix of resignation and mild annoyance. He sized up Raven once more, his droopy eyes seeming to scrutinize her transformed form. However, rather than plunging into battle, the demon prince proposed an alternative – a contract.

As he spoke, a contract materialized in front of him, drawn forth from an ethereal flame. The terms were clear – Raven would refrain from interfering with the prince and his fellow avatars of Sloth, and in return, he would not provoke her. It was an arrangement that bore the weight of mutual convenience, a truce to avoid unnecessary conflict.

Raven contemplated his offer for a moment, her gaze unwavering as she assessed the implications. She had already demonstrated her newfound power and willingness to assert control. With a measured decision, she responded, "Very well, as long as you do nothing to antagonize me." Her condition was etched into the contract, and with the agreement made, the contract burned into completion, sealing their pact.

In the realm of the abyss, where power was the ultimate currency, a temporary accord had been struck – a testament to Raven's ascendancy and her pragmatic approach to her newfound role as the Demon Queen of the 950th floor.

Laughter echoed through the chaotic scene as Jack Sparrow, the flamboyant captain of the Black Pearl, led his crew in a daring escape. Gold-laden bags swung at their sides, a precious bounty wrested from one of the archipelago's most secure banks. Amidst the pandemonium, Jack's voice rang out above the tumult, urging his crewmates to run even faster, an exhilarating chase under the bright sun.

"Run faster, mate!" he called out, a grin of pure mischief playing across his face. The crew moved with a hurried determination, each step carrying them farther from the pursuing soldiers. A sense of exhilaration accompanied their escape, an exhilaration that only a successful heist could deliver.

"Captain, run faster! The mages are getting closer!" a crew member shouted, his voice tinged with urgency. The tension in the air was palpable as the crew evaded capture, the soldiers hot on their heels. Chaos reigned, as panicked citizens scattered like leaves in the wind, while the soldiers attempted to restore order.

The archers, disciplined in their craft, found their aim curiously wrong, arrows veering off course in a manner that seemed almost unnatural. Magic surged through the atmosphere as mages approached, their formidable powers promising a formidable challenge. The crew's collective heart raced; the ship's safety against such potent adversaries was uncertain at best.

In the midst of the madness, Jack's laughter continued to punctuate the scene, a symphony of chaos and mirth that embodied the spirit of piracy itself. With the promise of escape tantalizingly close, the crew pressed on, determined to outpace their pursuers and live to revel in the spoils of their audacious heist.

With a hearty swig of whisky, Jack Sparrow welcomed the deck of his ship as his feet met its timeworn planks. Meanwhile, another member of the crew seemed to glide effortlessly onto the deck, displaying an almost supernatural grace. Mary, the vice captain, stood poised and vigilant, her keen awareness guiding her actions. With practiced precision, she materialized chains from her body, employing her unique ability to bring both Jack and the newcomer safely aboard the vessel.

No sooner had they secured their places on deck than a sudden threat emerged, a menacing ball of fire hurtling toward them with destructive intent. The urgency of the situation was not lost on anyone, least of all Qunta, the ship's helmsman, who exclaimed in panicked disbelief, "Dear God!"

Amidst the chaos, Jack maintained his characteristic irreverence, responding with a drunken grin, "Hey, that's me!" His carefree attitude belied the danger at hand, a trait that seemed second nature to the swashbuckling pirate.

However, Mary's patience wore thin as she faced the impending disaster. Her response was sharp and no-nonsense, a testament to her role as vice captain and the need for immediate action. "Hey, can't you see we have a crisis here?" she chastised, her frustration palpable. "Put the darned rum down now!"

The fiery projectile drew ever nearer, its heat and destructive potential impossible to ignore. A moment of adrenaline-pulsing tension ensued, and then, in a display of instinctive self-preservation, Mary acted. With a swift movement, she positioned herself between the approaching fireball and Jack, using him as a makeshift shield. The ploy was both courageous and creative, underscoring her resourcefulness in the face of danger.

As the fiery threat exploded in a blaze of heat and light, the ship and its crew weathered the danger through a combination of quick thinking, camaraderie, and a touch of Jack Sparrow's signature luck. The chaotic scene unfolded with a mixture of humor and heart-pounding action, a microcosm of the adventures that defined their lives as pirates.