“So. Demon-King, huh?” asks Sister eyeing Canta up and down, listening as Alleluia finishes explaining their story. “Sounds like the outside world really blows these days,” she sighs. “It used to be better, you know?” asks the skeleton.

Alleluia nods. “My husband told me that too. He also used to be alive back then.”

Sister tilts her head. “Used to?” she asks cautiously.

“I came back from the dead,” replies Canta. “Life is funny like that sometimes,” he notes, doing another sit-up.

“You came back from the dead? As a human?” asks Sister.

“Sure did,” replies Canta. “Don’t ask me about the details though. Maybe the universe thought I was a monster and I just respawned or something.”

Sister’s head snaps to the side with an unsettlingly quick and sharp movement.

“You respawned?” asks the skeleton, its voice changing to the man’s voice from before for a second.

“Hey! No!” snaps Sister suddenly to her right, now in a feminine voice, looking to where no-one is sitting. “You need to settle down,” she warns, lifting a finger to point at the empty space that she’s looking at. “You know that I love you, but you’re too intense for strangers, you sleazeball,” scolds the skeleton at the perhaps-real, perhaps-imaginary ‘other’. “If you had just said ‘hi’ from the start instead of going on a philosophical tangent, they wouldn’t have broken our skull.”

“Sorry about that,” remarks Canta dryly, doing another repetition. “So, what’s your deal? You got a whole dungeon’s worth of souls stuck inside of your head, huh?”

“It’s a whole story,” replies Sister. “Way too long. Lots of family-drama. Don’t even ask.”

Canta rolls his eyes. “Mhm. So, are you just making this shit up because you’re nuts, or do you really hear voices?” asks Canta.

“Honey! Stop being rude to our hosts!” snaps Alleluia.

He rolls his eyes, doing another repetition. “Again. Our ‘host’ is a talking skeleton who thinks they have the souls of an entire dungeon trapped in their head.”

“That sounds about right, yes,” says Sister, nodding.

Alleluia pauses for a moment. “You said your step-brother was a hero, right?”

“Yeah?” replies Sister.

“Is he still in your head too?” asks Alleluia.

“Yeah, but he’s not really a talker,” explains Sister. “Quiet type. The ladies used to really love him for some reason though.” Sister leans in. “Between you and me, I think it was just the whole ‘silent hero’ spiel. Very mysterious and edgy.”

Alleluia frowns. “Does he know anything about killing the Demon-King?”

– Canta stops, freezing half-way up his movement and looks back at the skeleton.

Sister shakes her head. “No, we never had a Demon-King back in our day, I think? Let me ask the dungeon-master. Uh…” The one-eyed skeleton looks around herself and then seems to stare off vacantly for a while into the distance. After a minute, she turns her head back to them. “No, the dungeon-master says that’s a new thing.” Sister lifts a finger. “I quote - A ‘Demon-King’ sounds like a huge, overly dramatic baby of a soul who got too big for his britches and went off the deep end.’ End quote.”

“Sounds about right to me,” remarks Canta, returning to his exercises.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Oh,” replies Alleluia, a bit let down. “Look, honestly, I think we’re kind of stuck.”

“Stuck?” asks Sister.

“Stuck,” says Canta, moving over to push-ups. “I need to kill the Demon-King.”

“Why?” asks Sister, looking him over in marked confusion.

“Because it’s my thing, okay? It’s what I do, okay?” says Canta, annoyed. “But I’m not strong enough to do it and my only method of getting stronger has been locked off to me by king-is-a-dick.”

The skull starts rattling, as if the skeleton were having a spasm of some kind. She takes her hands and holds them on either side of her head, trying to keep it still. “No, look, you can’t, okay?” says the entity to someone else, who they can’t see. “I don’t- UGH! What? Do you really gotta bring that up? I was young!” she asks, indignantly. “I don’t care if she’s bugging you; she’s your wife-not-wife, not mine. Go find a dark corner and do something in it with her. Bite her ears or something, I heard she likes that,” says Sister. Canta and Alleluia exchange a confused glance.

“Trouble in paradise, I guess,” mutters Canta to Alleluia. She nods quietly.

“What? No! Hey! HEY!” yells the skeleton, before simply falling over limply forward.

They stare at her for a moment. But nothing happens.

“…Are you okay?” asks Alleluia, bending over to shake the armor.

Canta grabs her hand, stopping her. “Don’t get involved in someone else’s family troubles,” he jokes.

The armor shakes and rattles, rising up from its slouched position onto all fours, hunching over forward in a frog-like manner, the head sharply turning his way. Canta pulls back an inch as he sees the now intensely glowing eye staring at him. It’s the same look as before. He lifts a finger, pointing at the skeleton. “Are you… the guy?”

The skeleton tilts his head, speaking in the masculine voice again. “No, Guy is my best friend,” he says, slinking forward in a highly unnatural manner, his cape draped down around his sides. The thing grabs him by the shoulders, leaning in uncomfortably close towards his face. “He killed half of the world, you know?” asks the undead entity. “But that wasn’t his fault. It’s just how nature made him.” The skeleton sighs, lowering its head. “Bless his soul. I miss him.”

“Uh…” Canta turns his head, looking at Alleluia. He feels the skeleton rub his skull against the side of his cheek.

“What your problem is is that you don’t have any grit,” remarks the skeleton. “Look at these ankles,” he says, averting its gaze down to Canta’s legs. “Like an angel’s.”

Canta blinks. “What the hell?”

“I mean, they are nice,” concedes Alleluia, looking at his ankles and then down at her own.

“– LISTEN!” yells the skeleton at him, as if it were yelling at him for changing the topic. “We’re going to do a thing,” he says, leaning in. “But only because I like the way your ankles look,” explains the undead. “And because you have shitty eyes and I hate them and I want to pull them out and squish-squish them into tiny, mushy, little driblets,” explains the creature. The skeleton tilts his head. “How good are you at fighting?”

“Pretty good,” shrugs Canta. “But I’m limited by my physical size and build. My body doesn’t grow.”

“And your class? Can you get new abilities?”

Canta shakes his head. “Only if I eat sins.”

The skeleton looks him over, sizing him up. “That’s oddly specific.”

Canta raises an eyebrow. “I’m not going to accept that, coming from an ankle-man.”

“What’s an ankle-man?” asks Alleluia.

“– LISTEN!” yells the skeleton, leaning in very, very closely towards his face. “We’re gonna do a thing. Call me Brother.”

Canta sighs. “Fine, but can you let me go?” he asks as the skeleton stands upright. He holds onto Canta beneath his arms.

“Yes, of course.” The skeleton turns to Alleluia. “Please excuse me, miss. I’m going to be borrowing your husband. We have some EDUCATION to undergo.” Brother looks Canta up and down. “Is he a virgin?”

“Not after I got through with him,” replies Alleluia proudly. But then suspiciously adds on. “Why…?”

“I need to know how intense the training should be,” explains the skeleton, matter of factly.

Canta stares, now entirely lost and a little unnerved, and rightfully so. “…Huh?”

“And how good is he at screaming?” asks Brother.

Alleluia stares at Brother, very confused. “Is that question related to the last question?”

“– WE’RE DOING A THING!” screams the skeleton very abruptly. He lurches around and throws Canta across the field with incredible strength. Canta flies across the grass, sliding up through the dirt towards the foot of a staircase that leads to nowhere.

Dizzily, he gets up, looking at the skeleton. “What the hell, man?!” he asks, holding his arms out to the side.

The skeleton, standing across from the field, points at Canta with his ancient lance “You’re going to run up the stairs now.”

“Huh?” asks Canta.

“We’re training. One-hundred staircases,” says Brother, tapping the lance again a rock. “Now.”

“What are you talking about, you lunatic?” asks Canta.

Brother stares at him for a while and then just sighs, shaking his head dejectedly. “That’s your problem, guy. Too many ‘whats’, ‘whys’ and ‘hows’,” he says, walking towards Canta very slowly. “You’re wasting your time. Shut up and take the stairs. The only sound that should be coming from your mouth is a constant, never-ending scream.” Brother walks up to him, poking and prodding him gently with the tip of the lance. Canta swipes it away. “You want to eat the Demon-King,” says Brother, looking around the two of them. “I don’t see him here.”

“That’s because he isn’t here. He’s back that way,” remarks Canta, pointing over his shoulder.

Brother nods. “Then why are you here?” He presses the blade of the lance softly back into Canta. “See? That there. That’s your problem,” says Brother, pushing the blade against him despite Canta’s protests. “You want to escape the metaphorical-dungeon. But you’re just going downstairs the whole time like some kind of lame-ass hero-party, raiding my home - ah.” It looks off to one side. “No offense, man,” says Brother to some imaginary gestalt, before looking back at Canta. “You need to go UP the stairs. The Demon-King is that way. The Demon-King is upstairs. It’s a metaphor, you see.”

Canta sighs, rubbing the back of his head. He looks off and away for a moment, before turning back to Brother. “I’m not strong enough to eat him, though.”

Brother nods. “You will be, after climbing one-hundred sets of stairs,” replies the skeleton.

Canta stares at him for a moment, but then nods, deciding that it has a point. Sort of. Kind of. It’s very hard to explain. He gets up and looks at the staircase that leads to nowhere.

“Just between you and me,” whispers Brother into his ear. “I might have some sins for you.”

“Huh?” asks Canta.

“But only after the stairs. One-hundred flights. Let’s go. I’m not a hero, but I know how to fight, I know how to get where you want to go. I have so many things to show you,” promises the skeleton.

Canta’s stomach growls. He really needs a sin to eat. Soon.

He sighs, slapping his cheeks and takes the first step up onto the staircase. He wonders what’s going to happen when he reaches the top?