Kill or be killed, survival of the fittest, Alesha thought as she cut down yet another opponent. Cheers from the stands thundered through the arena, causing her bones to rattle.
How many people had she killed? She couldn't remember anymore. She'd lost track.
[One hundred three,] Rogork answered. [You're making decent progress!]
"It's not enough," Alesha murmured as she left the arena behind. "I'm not fighting as often, so I'm not getting enough XP."
She was feeling anxious. Now that fights had slowed down, Alesha was worried about whether or not she'd find enough people to kill.
Occasionally, the reality of what she was doing would hit her again, but she'd shrug it off with thoughts of survival of the fittest and her goal.
It wasn't like she was killing for fun. Soldiers, bounty hunters, mercenaries -- all of these people killed as part of their work without enjoying it. She could get used to killing without being a murderous psycho.
[Is "at least I'm not a murderous psychopath" really the best standard of measurement??] Rogork teased.
"Maybe not," Alesha conceded. "But considering that's what I'm most worried about, knowing I'm not one is the biggest consolation I could ask for."
[Duly noted.]
"Don't you dare," Alesha hissed, pausing in the hallway, murder in her eyes. "You're thinking of making me into a murderous psycho by abusing Quests once we're back to normal, aren't you??"
[Not at a~ll,] Rogork denied in a sing-song voice, making its intentions clear.
"You- you freaking- gah!"
She decided to ignore Rogork for a while after this.
I won't let it get away with that, she thought.
Time to give it a taste of its own medicine.
----
"Your Eminence, please, I beg of you! Don't do this!" Zorhellian pleaded, running after a woman dressed in purple, red and gold.
"Whyever should I heed a worm like you?" She replied without looking.
"I- I-" the chaos demon stammered.
"I am a Goddess. I needn't pay attention to the lowly schemes of one such as yourself."
"Of course, you are correct, your Eminence! I merely wished to express my desire for your goals to be furthered according to the plans I have made-"
Suddenly, the woman ceased in her tracks and glared up at the chaos demon, who was a couple heads taller than her. "Kneel," she ordered.
He immediately complied.
Then, Toltura slapped him across the face. "Insolent wretch! Do you think I am a fool? It is not my name which has been spread far and wide with your Storytelling Games, but yours!"
She gripped his lizard-like face with her hand, which shuddered with a pulse of chaos energy, distorting it like a glitch in reality before snapping back into place. The look in her eyes shifted from murderous to gentle and back again. A sneer curled her delicate lips.
With a harsh glint in her gaze, she cooed sweet words at the chaos demon Zorhellian. "You poor, miserable wretch crawling along the ground, who seeks to elevate himself above his station! You dare to question your Goddess? Hm?"
A pulse of chaos energy crossed her face, causing it to be momentarily obscured by visions of nightmarish, chaotic horrors beyond imagination.
"N-never, your Eminence!" Zorhellian gasped as fear shook every fiber of his being.
The Goddess's eyes narrowed slightly, then she smiled -- a smile that lacked any warmth. "Excellent. Then do as I have commanded. I tire of waiting."
She released his face, then turned around and left. At first she walked elegantly, then took a step or two like a drunkard, then back to elegantly before changing to a light skip, a swagger, and a determined stride without warning. Somehow, this chaotic gait looked beautiful instead of awkward.
"Her Eminence is as unpredictable as ever," Zorhellian murmured. Both true admiration and fervent hate simmered in his eyes as he watched her leave.
----
Tamim savored a bite of curry, letting the spices really linger on his tongue. He sat alone, as usual, in a corner by himself -- this way, he could enjoy his food as much as he wanted without attracting attention. He'd never admit to being a foodie, but that didn't stop him from stealing as much enjoyment from his meals as he could
Especially since these Storytelling Games were practically a death sentence. From the rules he'd been given at the start, it was clear that only one person, out of however many people were part of the Games, would survive.
Tamim knew he was strong. He had to be in order to make it this far, after all. However, he didn't think he was stronger than everyone around.
And so, he enjoyed his meal, taking another bite full of plump rice grains and spicy chicken curry. He planned to get some vanilla-pineapple sorbet (a dessert he'd taken a liking to since coming here) after finishing his meal. He figured the soothing, creamy dessert would complement the spicy curry well.
Might as well eat as much delicious food as he could before he died.
His utensils clacked against the plate as he scraped up the last of his meal.
Standing, he left his plate on the table and started stepping over the bench on which he sat -- then he saw something that made him stumble. He didn't fall, but he came close.
A woman more gorgeous than the most vibrant sunset walked towards him like a supermodel, curly ankle-length mahogany hair swishing with every step. Her natural, effortlessly curvaceous body was sculpted by a deep v-neck dress of red, purple, and gold. Bare shoulders sprinkled with freckles flashed by his eyes as she glided by him without a care.
The faint scents of petrichor, roses and car oil lingered in the air as she passed, a heady combination that left his heart racing.
She spun around, her smile somehow drawing him in like a promise. Everyone else in the room was the same -- no one could look away from her as she began humming a beckoning tune.
She lifted her arms like a dancer before stumbling backwards in an action that, while clearly unintentional, somehow still seemed choreographed.
Her face still bearing that winning smile, she giggled and pulled her arms inwards, hugging herself and closing her eyes. Then she struck a flamboyant pose, still humming.
That was when Tamim's perception began to bend.
This woman -- no, this Goddess -- was a Being far beyond him, someone deserving of his adulation, praise, worship and wholehearted devotion. He couldn't explain how he knew this; he just did.
He didn't notice as scales appeared in ripples across his previously human skin, signifying the start of a new phase of his life.
All he could perceive was the way the light glistened across the Goddess's perfect, slightly freckled skin.
He couldn't tell that his hair fell out all around him, nor could he tell that his size began to shrink. He didn't care that his legs merged into a snake's tail, antennae sprouted from his forehead, and his face elongated into a snout.
The only things worthy of his notice were those relative to the Goddess. Her lashes, her lips, her curves, her edges.
The fact that his arms turned into feathered wings was inconsequential.
All that mattered was the beautiful way she glitched as she moved, shifting from one pose to the next in a mesmerizing, self-accompanied a capella dance.
She stopped dancing then, and his heart wept. Couldn't she continue to dance for them? Just once more?
Tamim and a room full of newly-born lesser chaos proteans approached, cooing mournfully. Abandoned plates of food covered the tables and weapons lay strewn about the floor.
Goddess, Goddess, the winged snakes seemed to cry, Would you dance one more dance for us?
She crouched down and smiled gently, caressing Tamim's snake head in the palm of her hand.
"Peace, my children, don't worry; I have saved you. I shall dance for you again another day."