Under Cube, the hidden hub of Sinful is a place of eerie quiet. The usual buzz of activity has faded away, leaving the underground facility feeling deserted. Devil Slayers, the members of this secretive cabal, are scattered, each engrossed in their own projects or missions.
I find myself sprawled on a bed in a dimly lit room, my body splayed out like a starfish. The exhaustion weighs heavy on me, dragging me down into a state of near collapse. I wish I could escape it all, just for a moment, as if death might offer respite. But that isn't an option. Devil Slayers don't get the luxury of a peaceful demise; our battles are fought on a different plane... Or will be fought on different planes... Sigh... I don’t know. The future is uncertain, but the possibility is always there.
I am genuinely tired. I could fake it in front of Tomer, wear a facade of carefreeness, but beneath the surface, I am tapped out. My magic power has been drained, pushed to its limits in my last pirating scheme, and more... The aftermath leaves me feeling like a husk, a vessel emptied of its arcane energy. Oooh… So dramatic… I always loved the dramatics…
The side effects are taking a toll on my physical well-being. Dehydration is a constant companion, and my body craves rest like a parched desert yearning for rain. Sleepiness clings to me like a persistent shadow, and a dull headache pulses in the background, a reminder of the strain I have endured.
My bedroom in Under Cube is very basic, lacking a lot of furniture. A peculiar almond-like seed sealed in a cuboid glass rests on top of a desk, serving as a constant reminder of Evandel. Her voice echoes in my mind, a cry of "dada." It might seem strange to treat a monster born from a dungeon like a real daughter, but in a sense, what the Cuboid Glass contains is, in fact, Evandel's lifeless form, a corpse. The melancholy truth of it all makes me question why I have chosen to display it in my room.
The sadness overwhelms me, making me feel sick. Unable to bear the sight of the glass container, I decided to hide it away. With a heavy heart, I carefully conceal the Cuboid Glass in a compartment underneath my bed, as if trying to bury the painful memories associated with it. The act feels like a futile attempt to distance myself from the tragedy, but I can't stand having a constant reminder of Evandel's demise in such close proximity.
I stretch out on the bed, my weariness evident as I address Cube, the Artificial Intelligence overseeing the operations of Under Cube.
"Cube-chan, can you check me up?"
The disembodied voice of Cube responds, her tone clinical and detached. "Scanning. Scanning complete. The host is completely healthy. Diagnosis: Depression. Prescription: vacation. Spend some idle hours playing games, joining picnics, or even shopping."
I sigh, the weight of my emotions pressing down. "Can you suggest easier methods?"
Cube's response is unexpected, almost humorous. "Find a girlfriend."
I scoff. "Oh come on!"
"Love heals all," Cube insists, her virtual demeanor unyielding.
"Are you trolling me?" I retort, unable to fathom the simplicity of the solution.
Cube, ever logical, continues her advice. "According to research, having lost a child will cause severe depression. To cure this, the easier method will be to find love and—"
"There is no way that is true!" I interject, disbelief coloring my tone.
Cube's response is deadpan. "Yes, it is from Reddit."
I pause, a mixture of frustration and amusement bubbling within me. In the strange, quiet depths of Under Cube, even Cube-chan seems to revel in a sense of humor unique to her, though peculiar...
Weariness clinging to my every fiber, I find myself addressing the ethereal presence within my mind—the Witch King, a spectral hat gifted to me by Evandel. Its whimsical appearance, a witch's hat with a mouth-like zipper, conceals a personality resembling that of a cheerful little girl.
"Hey, Witch King, scan me with your [Wisdom] Ability," I request, the exhaustion in my voice palpable.
The hat's response comes in the form of a playful, echoing voice. "Sure thing! Activating [Wisdom] Ability now!" The invisible currents of Spiritual Power weave through my being as the Witch King's magical prowess takes effect.
As the scan unfolds, the Witch King chimes in with its observations. "Scanning in progress! Scanning complete! The host is a bit worn out, like a tired teddy bear! But fear not, no major issues detected!"
Relief washes over me, and I can't help but crack a faint smile. "That's good to know. Anything else, Witch King?"
The hat responds with an animated lilt. "Oh, just the usual wear and tear! Maybe a dash of existential fatigue, but nothing a scoop of ice cream and a good nap can't fix!"
I chuckle, appreciating the whimsy in its analysis. "You always know how to lighten the mood, Witch King."
The hat tilts as if in a nod. "Well, that's my job! Now, want to hear a joke to chase away the blues?"
I nod, welcoming the diversion. "Sure, go ahead."
"Why did the ghost go to the party?" the Witch King asks, its voice filled with anticipation.
I play along, "I don't know, why did the ghost go to the party?"
"Because he heard it was going to be a boo-last!" The hat emits a playful giggle, its spectral presence adding a touch of whimsy to the otherwise somber atmosphere.
The door abruptly swings open, revealing Rachel, a figure with regal poise and blonde locks that cascade like sunlight. Her eyes, harboring an unmistakable kindness, catch mine with a gaze that holds both history and hesitancy.
I feel a pang of guilt course through me. Rachel—the person I've consciously avoided, a presence I've kept at arm's length, especially after what transpired with Evandel. The weight of that shared history hangs in the air like an unspoken truth, casting a somber pallor over the room.
As Rachel steps further into the space, her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, there's a silent exchange of understanding. The air thickens with unspoken words, the tension palpable. I find myself blaming Cube, the ever-watchful AI, for allowing this intrusion. What is your problem, Cube? What if I am in the midst of changing clothes or engaged in some private act?
Rachel, breaking the silence, offers a tentative smile. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," she says, her voice carrying a gentle cadence.
I muster a weak smile in return, the weight of the past year lingering in the room. "No, not at all. Just caught me off guard, that's all." Then, I feel like cracking a joke suddenly, so I add. “No, not all. You just saved millions and maybe billions of my DNA… I am close to the edge, actually!”
Rachel tilts her head innocently, “Uuummm… I don’t really understand.”
An awkward silence follows.
"How are you?" she inquires, her voice carrying a note of genuine concern.
I offer a weary smile, aware of the weight of my exhaustion. "Resting. How about you?"
Rachel's response is nonchalant, a casual segue into more pressing matters. "Need help. Someone is targeting the Human Dragon."
I sigh a mixture of exasperation and reluctance coloring my response. "Oh, come on…"
But Rachel is undeterred, her tone taking on a more urgent edge. "That's why you have to attend your own meetings. Stop sending Tomer. You haven't even read the file your dear secretary sent you! This is unbecoming of you, Hyon. You know that we can only talk about the 'manuscripts' when it was just the core members around."
The word 'manuscripts' hangs in the air with a weight of secrecy and shared understanding. It's Sinful's core members' code word for knowledge about the future.
I attempt to diffuse the tension with a feeble attempt at humor. "Hey, chill… I mean, I am very magically exhausted. Check my pulse." I reach out, grabbing Rachel's wrist and guiding her hand to feel my pulse.
Rachel, seemingly innocent but always sharp, questions the relevance. "Since when does pulse have anything to do with magic power? Wait…"
I remain silent, awaiting her realization. The room hangs in suspended curiosity until she looks at me with an accusing glance. "Are you flirting?"
Caught off guard, my voice shrinks in response. "No."
Unbeknownst to Rachel, the Witch King, the spectral hat within my mind, interjects with playful banter. "You rizzing her, bro? Gonna get some power of love?"
I mentally groan at the hat's antics. "Damn no."
Rachel's confusion deepens, her expression shifting from suspicion to bewilderment. "Wha~aat?"
An awkward silence envelops the room, definitely not my fault…
Rachel shifts the conversation to more pressing matters. "Anyways, I am hoping you help on the Human Dragon case, but I'll ask Suho instead. Rest well. I will have you assist one of my men to the Little Blue Tower, though, and use the Time Dilation Chamber function. Only you can teleport around. We need to keep Under Cube a secret…"
I raise an eyebrow, perplexed. "Huh? We cannot use the Little Blue Tower though, since Hajin's disappearance, right? We don't have access to SP which fuels the entire thing."
Rachel's expression transforms into flabbergasted disbelief. "You are a mess… It has been updated. Three months ago or so, definitely Hajin’s work from a faraway place, the Little Blue Tower’s first floor opened indefinitely without direct use of Hajin’s Authority of Setting Intervention. I can even go as much as I like…"
Caught in a lie, I awkwardly attempt to save face. "Of course… I know…"
Rachel's gaze turns blank, a silent stare that pierces through my feeble attempt at deception. OH, STOP IT WOMAN! YOU ARE KILLING ME!
“Peace,” I diminutively cry, raising my two fingers in a V sign.
Under Cube, the hidden hub of Sinful is a place of eerie quiet. The usual buzz of activity has faded away, leaving the underground facility feeling deserted. Devil Slayers, the members of this secretive cabal, are scattered, each engrossed in their own projects or missions.
I find myself sprawled on a bed in a dimly lit room, my body splayed out like a starfish. The exhaustion weighs heavy on me, dragging me down into a state of near collapse. I wish I could escape it all, just for a moment, as if death might offer respite. But that isn't an option. Devil Slayers don't get the luxury of a peaceful demise; our battles are fought on a different plane... Or will be fought on different planes... Sigh... I don’t know. The future is uncertain, but the possibility is always there.
I am genuinely tired. I could fake it in front of Tomer, wear a facade of carefreeness, but beneath the surface, I am tapped out. My magic power has been drained, pushed to its limits in my last pirating scheme, and more... The aftermath leaves me feeling like a husk, a vessel emptied of its arcane energy. Oooh… So dramatic… I always loved the dramatics…
The side effects are taking a toll on my physical well-being. Dehydration is a constant companion, and my body craves rest like a parched desert yearning for rain. Sleepiness clings to me like a persistent shadow, and a dull headache pulses in the background, a reminder of the strain I have endured.
My bedroom in Under Cube is very basic, lacking a lot of furniture. A peculiar almond-like seed sealed in a cuboid glass rests on top of a desk, serving as a constant reminder of Evandel. Her voice echoes in my mind, a cry of "dada." It might seem strange to treat a monster born from a dungeon like a real daughter, but in a sense, what the Cuboid Glass contains is, in fact, Evandel's lifeless form, a corpse. The melancholy truth of it all makes me question why I have chosen to display it in my room.
The sadness overwhelms me, making me feel sick. Unable to bear the sight of the glass container, I decided to hide it away. With a heavy heart, I carefully conceal the Cuboid Glass in a compartment underneath my bed, as if trying to bury the painful memories associated with it. The act feels like a futile attempt to distance myself from the tragedy, but I can't stand having a constant reminder of Evandel's demise in such close proximity.
I stretch out on the bed, my weariness evident as I address Cube, the Artificial Intelligence overseeing the operations of Under Cube.
"Cube-chan, can you check me up?"
The disembodied voice of Cube responds, her tone clinical and detached. "Scanning. Scanning complete. The host is completely healthy. Diagnosis: Depression. Prescription: vacation. Spend some idle hours playing games, joining picnics, or even shopping."
I sigh, the weight of my emotions pressing down. "Can you suggest easier methods?"
Cube's response is unexpected, almost humorous. "Find a girlfriend."
I scoff. "Oh come on!"
"Love heals all," Cube insists, her virtual demeanor unyielding.
"Are you trolling me?" I retort, unable to fathom the simplicity of the solution.
Cube, ever logical, continues her advice. "According to research, having lost a child will cause severe depression. To cure this, the easier method will be to find love and—"
"There is no way that is true!" I interject, disbelief coloring my tone.
Cube's response is deadpan. "Yes, it is from Reddit."
I pause, a mixture of frustration and amusement bubbling within me. In the strange, quiet depths of Under Cube, even Cube-chan seems to revel in a sense of humor unique to her, though peculiar...
Weariness clinging to my every fiber, I find myself addressing the ethereal presence within my mind—the Witch King, a spectral hat gifted to me by Evandel. Its whimsical appearance, a witch's hat with a mouth-like zipper, conceals a personality resembling that of a cheerful little girl.
"Hey, Witch King, scan me with your [Wisdom] Ability," I request, the exhaustion in my voice palpable.
The hat's response comes in the form of a playful, echoing voice. "Sure thing! Activating [Wisdom] Ability now!" The invisible currents of Spiritual Power weave through my being as the Witch King's magical prowess takes effect.
As the scan unfolds, the Witch King chimes in with its observations. "Scanning in progress! Scanning complete! The host is a bit worn out, like a tired teddy bear! But fear not, no major issues detected!"
Relief washes over me, and I can't help but crack a faint smile. "That's good to know. Anything else, Witch King?"
The hat responds with an animated lilt. "Oh, just the usual wear and tear! Maybe a dash of existential fatigue, but nothing a scoop of ice cream and a good nap can't fix!"
I chuckle, appreciating the whimsy in its analysis. "You always know how to lighten the mood, Witch King."
The hat tilts as if in a nod. "Well, that's my job! Now, want to hear a joke to chase away the blues?"
I nod, welcoming the diversion. "Sure, go ahead."
"Why did the ghost go to the party?" the Witch King asks, its voice filled with anticipation.
I play along, "I don't know, why did the ghost go to the party?"
"Because he heard it was going to be a boo-last!" The hat emits a playful giggle, its spectral presence adding a touch of whimsy to the otherwise somber atmosphere.
The door abruptly swings open, revealing Rachel, a figure with regal poise and blonde locks that cascade like sunlight. Her eyes, harboring an unmistakable kindness, catch mine with a gaze that holds both history and hesitancy.
I feel a pang of guilt course through me. Rachel—the person I've consciously avoided, a presence I've kept at arm's length, especially after what transpired with Evandel. The weight of that shared history hangs in the air like an unspoken truth, casting a somber pallor over the room.
As Rachel steps further into the space, her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, there's a silent exchange of understanding. The air thickens with unspoken words, the tension palpable. I find myself blaming Cube, the ever-watchful AI, for allowing this intrusion. What is your problem, Cube? What if I am in the midst of changing clothes or engaged in some private act?
Rachel, breaking the silence, offers a tentative smile. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," she says, her voice carrying a gentle cadence.
I muster a weak smile in return, the weight of the past year lingering in the room. "No, not at all. Just caught me off guard, that's all." Then, I feel like cracking a joke suddenly, so I add. “No, not all. You just saved millions and maybe billions of my DNA… I am close to the edge, actually!”
Rachel tilts her head innocently, “Uuummm… I don’t really understand.”
An awkward silence follows.
"How are you?" she inquires, her voice carrying a note of genuine concern.
I offer a weary smile, aware of the weight of my exhaustion. "Resting. How about you?"
Rachel's response is nonchalant, a casual segue into more pressing matters. "Need help. Someone is targeting the Human Dragon."
I sigh a mixture of exasperation and reluctance coloring my response. "Oh, come on…"
But Rachel is undeterred, her tone taking on a more urgent edge. "That's why you have to attend your own meetings. Stop sending Tomer. You haven't even read the file your dear secretary sent you! This is unbecoming of you, Hyon. You know that we can only talk about the 'manuscripts' when it was just the core members around."
The word 'manuscripts' hangs in the air with a weight of secrecy and shared understanding. It's Sinful's core members' code word for knowledge about the future.
I attempt to diffuse the tension with a feeble attempt at humor. "Hey, chill… I mean, I am very magically exhausted. Check my pulse." I reach out, grabbing Rachel's wrist and guiding her hand to feel my pulse.
Rachel, seemingly innocent but always sharp, questions the relevance. "Since when does pulse have anything to do with magic power? Wait…"
I remain silent, awaiting her realization. The room hangs in suspended curiosity until she looks at me with an accusing glance. "Are you flirting?"
Caught off guard, my voice shrinks in response. "No."
Unbeknownst to Rachel, the Witch King, the spectral hat within my mind, interjects with playful banter. "You rizzing her, bro? Gonna get some power of love?"
I mentally groan at the hat's antics. "Damn no."
Rachel's confusion deepens, her expression shifting from suspicion to bewilderment. "Wha~aat?"
An awkward silence envelops the room, definitely not my fault…
Rachel shifts the conversation to more pressing matters. "Anyways, I am hoping you help on the Human Dragon case, but I'll ask Suho instead. Rest well. I will have you assist one of my men to the Little Blue Tower, though, and use the Time Dilation Chamber function. Only you can teleport around. We need to keep Under Cube a secret…"
I raise an eyebrow, perplexed. "Huh? We cannot use the Little Blue Tower though, since Hajin's disappearance, right? We don't have access to SP which fuels the entire thing."
Rachel's expression transforms into flabbergasted disbelief. "You are a mess… It has been updated. Three months ago or so, definitely Hajin’s work from a faraway place, the Little Blue Tower’s first floor opened indefinitely without direct use of Hajin’s Authority of Setting Intervention. I can even go as much as I like…"
Caught in a lie, I awkwardly attempt to save face. "Of course… I know…"
Rachel's gaze turns blank, a silent stare that pierces through my feeble attempt at deception. OH, STOP IT WOMAN! YOU ARE KILLING ME!
“Peace,” I diminutively cry, raising my two fingers in a V sign.
