----------------------------------------
The Games table had livened greatly in the time Saho had spent there. Guests would come and go, bringing food and drinks, and most valued of all, conversations.
After a while, guests began an orderly queue for new topics, finishing and moving on to the next in sequence. At the moment, they had just finished a heavily scientific discussion on the mechanics of the portals that had given them entrance to the area, a long-winded conversation that had not truly gone anywhere at all, though the participants seemed to enjoy it greatly.
Next was a debate on the biology of the unique life that could be found near the edge of the universe. While sparse, lifeforms that evolved there were often more uniform and resilient than life nearer to the center of the universe, for reasons unknown.
Saho, not knowing much about the topic, had elected to stay silent, though he listened intently to the arguments being presented. Currently, he was favoring the idea that due to the thinning of matter nearing the edge, life that evolved there needed to be sturdier, and genetic mutations were less of a priority, as the environments were more stable. The argument wasn’t perfect, but it was believable enough, at least for Saho.
It was at a quiet moment in the discussion that he felt it.
An inverse pressure built, and sound began to be smothered by an almost imperceptible droning un-noise. Then, it suddenly sharpened, becoming instantly unbearable. Saho found himself instinctually curling inward and shrinking his aura, like an animal trying to make itself unnoticeable.
He wasn’t the only one. The other gods did the same as he, and even the demons bowed their heads, shaking like leaves in a storm.
He felt a void shaped like a person approach the table, their anti-presence stark and almost painful to perceive compared to everything else. The demons, which had felt empty and not fully physical before, suddenly felt undeniably real, far closer to the gods that they sat next to than the being that had just appeared.
The arrival’s voice did not carry, seeming to be absorbed into the roaring un-noise, leaving behind an empty hole where a sound should have been. “Mind if I join in?” the voice said, the tone of a kind elder only barely covering the reality of the newcomer’s identity, an act that would fool nobody, and wasn’t meant to.
Saho couldn’t find his voice. His body wouldn’t move, frozen in place like a statue as the greatest enemy of his patron stood no more than the length of a stride away. He couldn’t even stare at it, his head adamant in its refusal to look up, to gaze upon the non-being that had just spoken.
“Not at all,” a voice from across the table said. Vaguely, he recognized it as one of the guests, sitting just in front of where the Dark One stood. They clearly struggled to get the words out, just managing before their mouth rebelled and snapped shut again with a click. Saho’s eyes were just high enough to watch them shakily pass a hand of cards to the Dark One, who took hold of them with a pair of brown leather gloves.
“Thank you,” the Dark One said, seating itself in an empty chair between a god and a demon, who rapidly and fearfully moved to the side to avoid contact. “I’ll be of no trouble.” The inverse pressure suddenly dropped back to the previously uncomfortable but now greatly welcome level it had been at earlier. Around the table, Guests– both gods and demons– practically collapsed in relief, gasping like they had been released from a chokehold.
Saho’s body unfroze in an instant, his metaphysical muscles seizing and suddenly going slack. Slowly, he raised his head back up, laying his eyes upon the body of the Dark One. It wasn’t the towering monster he expected, merely a blue-robed humanoid, its body wrapped in a tan cloth, and bound around the chest by a thick chain. If Saho had to guess, he would estimate it to be not much taller than average, with limbs that were just slightly too long, but otherwise, it looked almost human.
The Dark One hummed a toneless un-sound, played a card that was neither high nor low value, and passed the game to the next player like its presence was not to be noted.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The game was played in absolute silence for what felt like hours before a brave demon tried to begin the discussion again. Eventually, the conversation reached a decent size, though the tense, hesitant voices of those involved persisted for a long time.
----------------------------------------
The Dark One, despite his. . . eventful arrival at the game table, stayed true to its word and did not cause any trouble. In fact, it seemed to be actively doing the opposite. There were numerous times it could have ruined another player’s chance of winning the round, or won itself with ease, but it never took them.
It wasn’t a matter of not seeing the opportunities, it was obvious to all present that it was fully knowledgeable of the openings that were being presented, and was willfully and purposefully avoiding them, like they weren’t truly options at all. Like it didn’t want to win, but rather to play.
The demons overall seemed to be adapting better than the gods were. The white-cloaked, blade-limbed, and floating demons had all shaken off the Dark One’s arrival with relative ease, though a mix of reverence and fear was still present and obvious.
Most of the gods on the other hand, were still glancing at the Dark One every few seconds, like he were a crouched predator waiting to devour them whole, and if they were physical beings Saho was certain they would be sweating rivers and pale as a sun-bleached stone.
It was at a lull in the conversation that the Dark One spoke again.
It hummed. “I'd like to speak with you privately, if possible. And to you two as well, but as a pair.” Its voice, no matter its kindly tone, sent deep shivers through Saho, especially once he realized that it was speaking to him. A small number of other guests around the table tensed, as it became obvious it was not speaking to just Saho, but rather a handful of those present.
The floating demon seemed to find their bravery first. “In what order, ehm. . . sir?”
The Dark One hummed again and pulled a small metal object from its cloak. It stared at it a moment and then rolled it across the table, where it bounced for a moment before landing. The Dark One picked it up, looked at the object again, and then directly at Saho. “I’d like to speak to you first.”
If Saho was still mortal, he was sure he would have died in an instant. The Dark One rose, placing its cards on the table face up (a winning hand, Saho noted in the back of his head,) returned the object to its cloak, and walked toward him in a manner that reminded him of a predator approaching its prey.
Saho put his hand down, and rose as well, ignoring the pitying stares he received. The Dark One beckoned him with a finger, and he left the table like he was walking to his execution.
His cards were left face up, a losing hand open for the world to see.
----------------------------------------
After a moment of walking, the two sat at a nearby table, just out of earshot of any spectators.
The Dark One spoke first. “I must congratulate you,” the empty voice said. The wrapped cloth that covered its face behind its mask did not move, nor was any true sound made. Rather, word-shaped holes seemed to simply appear in the surrounding din of noise and un-noise. “It’s not every day that a mortal becomes a god.”
“I suppose not.” Saho tried. Talking was difficult, like speaking through water, but he was just able to manage.
The Dark One’s cloth disguise contorted into what could have been a kind smile, or a threatening grimace. “Nor is it every day that a pawn of mine is killed.”
The un-noise shifted, suddenly sounding like the crackling of fires and the far-off roaring of a great beast. Idly, Saho was reminded of the Demon King. The stench of rotten meat and burning flesh, its fire-lit silhouette branded into his mind, its glowing yellow eyes that pierced his soul, the blood of his friends and allies coating its fur.
Saho didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. His voice had once again left him.
“Tell me,” the Dark One said. “Did you enjoy it?” The sound the Demon King made when it died, the darkened imprint it had left behind.
“No,” Saho whispered. His illusory heartbeat was too loud. His imagined blood roared in his ears. The Demon King’s claws reached for him, its maw wide, baring bloodied teeth.
“Would you do it again?” Far-off screams, a city burning in the distance.
The rubble of the towns it destroyed, the blackened, broken flesh of the people it had killed.
A melted piece of armor, a charred child’s toy.
“Yes.”
The Dark One hummed tonelessly and rose, stalking back to the games table. But before it left earshot, it spoke again, whispering so quietly that Saho was barely able to hear it at all.
“Good.”
----------------------------------------