I find myself surrounded by an infinite expanse of darkness, a sole star shining in the distance, observing me silently.

It takes me a second to remember how I got here, the message appearing and changing as I read it, telling me that someone is demanding a meeting, someone named Siro.

“So you have finally come,” a melodious voice rings out, filling every inch of the darkness, omnidirectional but directed at me, “You who has stared into the Abyss of Death since a young age, forced to endure Death over and over again, dancing on the brink just to go on and continue your life of pointless slaughter, you who spread Death further than most, who seeks to kill the unkillable.”

The voice stops for just a moment, retreating and letting me soak in darkness, my own insignificance before appearing again, simply asking “What is it you seek?”

I spin around, looking for anyone to explain what is going on but it seems like the darkness itself is speaking to me, demanding my attention.

“Freedom of those who seek to hunt me,” I reply, trying to match its manner of speech.

“Is this truly what you seek?” it asks, “Thousands of people seek the same, who are you to wield the Power of gods to use for such a mundane goal?”

The voice is booming, threatening to crush me from the sheer volume “Who are you to dare-”

“Cut it out, Siro,” A second voice interrupts the first, causing the darkness itself to quake.

It quickly falls in on itself, imploding and leaving me in a cabin, similar to the one I was raised in. It is filled with the useless decor I never understood, blurry paintings and a big fireplace made out of bricks.

I find myself sitting on a blue plush seat, opposite a couch on which three people are seated.

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The first is an androgynous figure made out of the darkness with long black hair, tendrils of darkness weightlessly snaking through the air and a lone eye shining instead of a face, Siro. They seem just as confused as I am, sputtering and looking at the person sitting next to her.

The second one who is sitting in the middle is a short woman with blonde hair cut just above her cheeks and piercing brown eyes glaring at Siro. She is wearing a Bankers outfit and has a sickle on a chain at her hip.

The last one is an old, wrinkly man who seems to be asleep, wearing an old robe and leaning onto a scythe, using it to keep his balance.

Siro turns to the Banker woman and raises their hands in outrage “Vona! You can’t just interrupt me! He’ll think I am just some boring Deity like you two!”

Vona glares at them, causing them to wilt and shrink into a miniature versions of themselves. “You have to take this seriously.”

Siro's once booming voice now has turned high-pitched and hurts my ears as they jump up and down on the couch “I am taking this seriously, Vona!”

“Then stop your stupid acting,” Vona complains, correcting her hair, “No one believes your act for more than a day.”

Siro pulls on one of the tendrils coming from their back, twisting it into a spear that they threaten Vona with “Come on! I can kick your ass any time of the week and you know it, Bitch!”

The Old man snaps awake at the swearing, popping out of existence and reappearing on a second plush chair next to me before settling back down.

Vona pulls her sickle from her hip and quickly wraps the chain around their spear, twisting it from their hand and ending with the sickle at their throat. Barely a second passed during the exchange, leaving Siro with no option other than to raise their hands in defeat.

The old man takes my hand into his own and shakes it, introducing himself “I am Stan, the first Death, and these two are colleagues that survived the march of time with me, waiting for my successor.”

“Grant, nice to meet you,” I weakly introduce myself, too shocked by what is happening.

Vona clears her throat, drawing my attention back to her and Siro, who is now pinned to the couch with the Sickle through one of their tendrils. She claps twice, causing Stan to reappear on her free side with a mug of tea in his hand. “Let’s take it from the top, Grant.”