Gray broke into the laboratory with Boris in tow, but the moment they stepped inside past the terminal room, they were greeted by a familiar foe. Her spear shot out from the dark. Sloth stepped out to greet the two. She stood up high on a catwalk, peering down on the two who were on the ground floor.

“Welcome back, Master Arkal,” Sloth said. “I had a feeling the commotion above was your doing.”

“Sloth,” Gray muttered. “You and the EDS — you’re all still working for Cinni?”

“The EDS?” Boris asked. He wasn’t yet in the loop.

“We sins are Cinni’s servants and bodyguards, your replacement after you abandoned both the Empire and our boss,” Sloth answered. “So long as the Emperor orders it, we are under her command.”

“And what orders have you received?”

“The elimination of intruders.”

Sloth pulled an alarm lever before leaping down, spear first. She struck like falling rain, multiplying herself into three javelins that vanished into light upon impact. Sloth, despite her name, was faster than a snake, striking out with the head of her spear dipped in venom. Black poison splattered against the walls, melting the steel like acid.

Boris pointed his blade at her, only for Gray to stand in front of him, taking the battle into his own hands, saying, “Go on ahead. Leave this to me.”

Wrath, hearing the alarm, opened up the sealed room. Inside was Cinni who stood by the blank slate alone, gazing down towards the empty chunk of stone. It was like she couldn’t hear the blaring sirens indicating an invasion. She was too busy blankly staring at the slate.

“Boss,” Wrath said, and when he grabbed her shoulder, the woman shuddered.

“An invasion, right,” Cinni said, a hint of dejection in her voice. “I suppose it’s Gray’s return. It’s about time he came back to me.” and she turned to the slate to let out a sigh, muttering, “If only I had one more test subject. I’m so close to the truth.”

“Boss, go and take refuge in the Imperial palace,” Wrath said. “I and the other seven will take care of the intruders. You must report back to the Emperor in our place.”

“Fine, so long as you bring him to me. Alive.”

Hearing that, Wrath simply let out a sigh, muttering, “I’ll do all I can.”

He pushed on ahead through the dim halls of the laboratory, all the way towards the room Sloth was stationed in. Before he could open up the door, the door burst open. Trails of ice crawled along the walls, and before them was a frozen statue of Sloth encased in pure mana ice, her spear snapped in half.

Frosty air spilled out the door and a single man stood before Wrath.

“The traitorous mage knight makes his return,” Wrath muttered, his hands loose. Stepping out of the smoke was Gray who stood, his mageblade loosely held in his hand. It glowed a soft blue — the sign of ice magic.

Wrath breathed in the frozen air, letting out a hot breath of a warrior monk, one that melted away the pillars of ice.

“The Empire doesn’t forgive traitors,” Wrath said. “I have no choice but to kill you. If I’m lucky and you’re cooperative, I can reunite you with Cinni alive.”

“I can reunite myself,” Gray answered. “Now step aside or fight me with all you’ve got.”

Wrath knew Gray was no easy foe. Gray easily and swiftly took out Sloth, encasing her with ice. Gray was probably on par with the swordsman, or even stronger — an already difficult opponent. Despite all that, Wrath had an obligation to follow Cinni’s request, and with his fists clenched tight, he threw the first punch.

Wrath specialized in counterattacks, but at this moment, he had no choice but to charge in. He used daggers as distractions, using them to tie down foes for a killing blow.

Gray, however, was no fool. He blocked the daggers with pillars of ice, and when Wrath burst through the wall of pure frozen water, he retaliated.

Gray didn’t need his sword. No. Against a martial artist, the most effective weapons were your own fists. Magic was pointless. They were too resilient to torch with fire magic, too agile to freeze with ice, too crafty to shock with electricity. Melee weapons were also pointless for similar reasons. All Gray could do was stand firm, breathe in, and focus.

Wrath burst through the wall of ice. Gray countered, his motions fluid, as if the wall hadn’t shattered but melted. With a wrist grasp and a throw, the usual calm and concerted Wrath found himself thrown to the floor.

“You haven’t learned a thing since I’ve been gone, have you?” Gray said before being shoved back with a kick. A single kick was powerful enough for Wrath to toss himself back onto his feet like a ninja.

“How could I?” Wrath answered. “Ever since you’ve been gone, there’ve been no strong opponents for me to face. Noone was there to elevate me even higher.”

Wrath threw a set of kunai daggers, leaving Gray with cuts on his cheek. The daggers plunged themselves into the wall behind him, and when Gray turned to look at Wrath, Wrath had already gotten himself a bottled potion. Inside was a raging thunderstorm zipping back and forth, begging to be released.

The bottle crashed by Gray’s feet, causing the bolts to rush up to the daggers, then to leap back towards Gray like an ambush of ninjas all pouncing upon him. It was a devastating blow of electricity that’d kill most people, but to Wrath’s surprise, Gray had his own tricks up his sleeve.

Gray countered with a bottle of his own. Inside was simple salt water — water that, controlled by a spell, formed pillars around him. They acted like lightning rods with salt crystals that shot the electricity into the ground instead of him.

“Clever, clever. Even in old age, you haven’t grown dull,” Wrath said, and he clapped his hands, slowly, as if he were both praising and mocking Gray.

Gray simply smirked, saying, “Why thank you,” before bowing down before him and soaking up his praise. Wrath instantly took the opportunity to strike Gray while he had his head down, only to be forced back when Gray suddenly unsheathed his blade — forming a wide uppercut that’d split Wrath in half.

“A calm and collected warrior allows his opponent to engage in a back and forth dialogue,” Gray said. “The fact that you tried to strike me while I was down is proof that you are quite afraid of me. Is my diagnosis correct?”

“No,” Wrath answered. “Seeing you bow down like that reminded me of something.”

“Of what?”

“Of how I killed that traitorous swordsman with one blow to the back of his head, the man who ran away with… with…”

“With who?”

Boris charged on ahead after taking a detour. He stumbled through the laboratory, accidentally knocking over samples and test tubes with his oversized sword sheathed on his back. He kicked down doors and followed a specific trail given to him by Gray, a path that would intersect with Cinni.

He had no idea what he was getting himself into. The creatures in the jars, the strange fluids being pumped around in transparent tubes, the weird machinery that hummed with life — everything in that laboratory was truly foreign. He wasn’t proficient in magic and mana sensing, but he could still tell that this place was otherworldly.

On top of that, despite being given direction strictly from Gray who clearly knew the building’s layout, he could sense it. An otherworldly presence. It led him straight to her.

“Freeze!” Boris cried, sword unsheathed. He had breached a room and managed to get ahead of Cinni who was fleeing all alone.

At first he thought he’d face off against a child kidnapping demon, but looking at her, he just had to wonder what was going on. How could such a beautiful and kind looking woman be responsible for such reprehensible crimes?

Cinni knew that well. Her smile was dazzling.

“Oh! It looks like we have guests,” Cinni said, all while the sirens of the laboratory wailed in the distance. “Why, how rude of me not to welcome you in. I am Cinni Carver, and you?”

“I’m Boris. A simple swordsman, and I’m here to rescue a child you and your crew have kidnapped,” he said, half nervous, half unsure of himself. He couldn’t quite parse out the outward good she wore and the inner bad she hid behind her charms.

Cinni, hearing that, put a hand over her mouth — utterly shocked by his accusations.

“A kidnapped child? Goodness — you haven’t been listening to the rumors, have you? Why, they’re all extrapolations of events people haven’t witnessed themselves — baseless accusations and slander. They’re nothing more than exaggerations,” Cinni said with a soft laugh. “Why, how about I give you a tour of this laboratory, hmm? I’m sure that’ll clear things up for you and prove that I’m not some crazed scientist.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I want to trust you, seeing as you’re drop dead gorgeous, but I just can’t,” Boris answered. “Gray gave me permission to use force against you. He told me not to hesitate.”

“Then come. Show me what you’re made of.”

In an instant, Cinni changed. It was like witnessing a person peel off their outer shell, revealing just what sort of monster hid underneath. Her eyes changed. They were dull, as if they had a screen laid over them. A ring of blue light formed around her wrist, her knuckles and her pointer finger — rings of light that swirled with text and code.

She waved her hand, forming a trail of light that pierced through the walls, all the way to the front of the laboratory.

“Pride!” she cried. “Come! Show this man what truly lurks behind the rumors of this laboratory!”

The string of light began to shiver, like a fishing line being tugged on by its prey. Heavy thuds filled the laboratory, and in mere seconds, the wall burst open — hammer first. Boris watched in both awe and horror as the goliath came forth, electric sparks flying from broken wires and liquid mana dripping from burst pipes.

He was monstrous and massive, forced to hunch over to properly look down on the little swordsman. His coat was wrapped tight around his body along with the cuffs around his wrists and ankles. Atop his head was a little pigskin pork pie hat. Pride got in between the two, allowing Cinni to run free.

Pride hunched over and welcomed him in with the tip of his hat and a glance with his red eyes.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Pride, and I’ll be the one to escort you out of here.”

That’s when Boris saw Pride lift his hammer up high. There was no way around it. It’d come crashing down. The only way he’d be escorted out is in a bodybag.

Boris threw himself out of the splash radius of flying metal and debris before swinging his blade in return, aiming for Pride’s legs — anything to cripple the giant. Pride, however, wasn’t so easy to take down.

No. He had steel toed boots — boots he used like shields to parry his sword with a pillar shattering kick. He sent his sword flying like a tomahawk that sunk into the wall like a sword in a stone. Boris knew there was no way he could drive his sword out of solid steel, and so, he backed up ever-so slowly.

“You’re not planning on running away, are you?” Pride asked. He responded in kind to his backpedaling with a slow, murderous march forwards. His footsteps were purposefully thunderous, like an army marching under the rhythmic spell of a drummer.

Boris backed up against a wall and he reached for whatever he could, then threw it. It was one of the samples, a leech kept inside of a jar. The glass shattered, slime spilled out and a leech dug into Pride’s arm after ripping a hole into his coat.

Pride’s expression darkened. He was clearly more upset that his clothes were damaged than the fact that he had a leech sucking away at his blood.

His expression shifted to a sneer, revealing a set of unnaturally sharp teeth. Combined with his red eyes and titanic stature, he was clearly inhuman.

“You ruined my coat… and here I was, planning on giving you a quick and painless death,” Pride said with a scowl, peering to his shoulder to see the ripped coat. Strangely, he ignored the leech that wriggled away, sucking away at his life force.

“Aren’t you gonna rip the leech off?”

“Why should I?” Pride asked. “A simple leech like this is nothing to me. It may as well be bacteria on my hands.”

Boris could read him. Pride was too prideful to admit that the leech who sucked away at his blood was an issue for him. He took up arms in jarred leeches and whatever pests Pride would find unworthy of his attention.

Cinni ran off alone, stumbling through the halls of her own laboratory. She had expected that sooner or later, someone would invade, but years of inactivity and physical laziness undid her planning and preparations. The sirens blared through the halls, all while her footsteps clamored on and on. She carried a briefcase with her, one that had every square inch of surface covered with anti mana and alchemy seals. It was dreadfully heavy, forcing her to drag it behind her like a ball and chain.

But that was alright, because it meant the whole world to her.

“Sorry Gray,” she said to herself. “I guess we’ll have to meet again some other time. I’m afraid I can’t let my research fall into your hands just yet.”

She used all her strength to drag the briefcase. It was so intense that she didn’t notice a little creature slither by — a creature that rested by her foot.

It came into contact with her, then exploded into a plumage of smoke.

“Don’t think things are over yet,” Cinni heard. “If you wanna meet Gray so bad, I’ll drag you over to him.”

When the smoke cleared, she saw the source of the living landmine. A pair of flaming gauntlets glowed through the dark. It was none other than Isabelle with an army of wisps swirling around her arm.

“A demoness?” Cinni asked, and she stood upright to greet her with a grin “Why — you must be Isabelle. I’ve heard all about you from the EDS, how you work under Gray’s command. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”

“Well, the feeling’s not mutual. Drop the briefcase and surrender, or I’ll be forced to kill you.”

“I know all about you. Wrath told me about you, that you and that Troy fellow were close. Friends? Or perhaps he was some kind of crush, hmm?” and before Isabelle could attack, Cinni stuck out a hand, saying, “It isn’t everyday you meet a talking slime, but I have to tell you — I believe there’s a way to revive your dear Troy.”

Her wisps flew out, flying around Cinni’s head as a sort of warning.

“Go on,” Isabelle said. “I’d like to hear an explanation. A mad scientist like you should be able to revive the dead, no?”

“Why, of course! It’d hurt my pride as a researcher if I couldn’t do something so simple as revive — or as I like to put it, reverse death.”

Isabelle pulled out the jar where the little slime was kept. “Go on,” Isabelle said, all while the slime swam around in circles. “Undo death.”

“I can’t quite undo the death of a living creature now, could I? It never quite occurred to me to research slime physiology, and seeing as they reproduce asexually, what you’re carrying is not quite the same creature as your friend.”

The wisps grew closer. A fire grew in Isabelle, one that’d scorch Cinni to ashes.

“If you can’t return what I’ve lost, then I’ll just have to take what’s mine.”

Cinni was on the verge of being captured, but all it took was one thunderclap. Isabelle found herself forced back by a familiar face, a cloaked girl who threw a vial of water — water that began to burn away at Isabelle’s skin.

“Meet the newest member of the Eight Deadly Sins, Treachery,” Cinni announced, and she stepped aside, allowing the smallest member of the EDS to step forwards.

She was young, concerningly so. It was like the Empire had plucked her out of some random orphanage, pumped her veins full of all sorts of chemicals and gave her a new name, identity and reason to live. From beneath black bangs of hair peeked a pair of inhuman golden eyes.

A thin, branch-like arm reached out from a dark, raggedy cape. Between each of her pale fingers were vials filled with a black liquid so thick that when flipped upside down, the contents spilled out like molasses.

“Is this how far the Empire’s fallen?” Isabelle asked. “You’re a real coward, hiding behind child soldiers like this.”

“Child soldiers?” Cinni asked, and she let out a laugh, slapping Treachery on the shoulder, shouting, “Child soldiers, eh!? Well, this is the first time I’ve ever heard anyone refer to a homunculus as a ‘child’!”

“Homunculus?” Isabelle muttered, frozen in shock, unable to truly comprehend that the girl in front of her was born inside a test tube, and instead of being conceived, she was created through human transmutation.

Cinni reached down and stroked Treachery on the head, saying, “Congratulations. Of all my homunculi, you are the most human-like. It seems like you’re proof that I’ve perfected the art of creating humans from clay.”

Treachery stood silently. She didn’t move or flinch as Cinni stroked her head, then pinched her cheeks, as if she were checking if Treachery really was a homunculus and not just some random human child. Cinni seemed distant with her newest homunculi, and with a push, she sent her forwards.

“Go,” Cinni said. “Show me your strength, my servant. Bring this demoness to her knees.”

Treachery stepped forwards, and without hesitation, threw out her potions — splashing the laboratory hall with that pungent black sludge. Isabelle had blocked it with a magic shield, only to find that it wasn’t aimed at her, but rather the surface of the hall.

She was silent. Treachery stared into Isabelle’s eyes with a look of both aggression and unsure familiarity. Despite that, she only hesitated for a moment before clapping her hands together.

A surge of alchemy and thunder erupted out of her palms, and like daggers, the bolts of lightning dragged across the steel plating, leaving behind bubbling liquid metal and black scars. It was instantaneous, with each thunderbolt striking a puddle of that black liquid.

The liquid began to fizzle, then erupted into a maelstrom of alchemy, alchemy that turned the sludge into living metal, metal that molded itself as a pair of knights who held Isabelle by her arms. Before she could use magic, they grabbed both her hands and formed shackles around each finger.

“Master Cinni,” Treacher said, her voice soft but undeniably assertive. “I’ve restrained the intruder. It’s time for you to flee the Imperial Palace.”

“Flee? So soon?” Cinni asked, a gleeful smirk growing across her face. “Why — there’s no need to rush things, is there? Pride, Wrath and Sloth are all taking care of the intruders, aren’t they?”

“Wouldn’t you rather be safe than sorry?”

Cinni, hearing that, turned to Isabelle with a fresh idea. She took her briefcase, then popped it open.

“Safe than sorry, hmm?” and she opened it up to reveal the contents inside. Kept in a sealed container was the blank slate. With a pair of tongs that were branded in seals and charms, Cinni pulled out the slate. A strange resonance came off the tongs whose charms glowed a gentle white, as if the metal tools were softly singing.

“Isabelle, it’s a shame what happened to your friend, Troy,” Cinni said — her tone utterly mocking. “How about I do you a favor?”

“What are you talking about?” Isabelle said, all while the tongs brought the slate to her face.

“I’ll take you to where Troy is — to paradise.”

The slate inched towards her. Treachery silently watched as Cinni played with her food, teasing and prodding at Isabelle who could do nothing while the living metal knights restrained her.

Isabelle could feel it. The otherworldly aura of that slate. She squinted as best she could, but there was no way anyone could read a blank sheet. Whatever it was, she knew she had to get away from it.

That’s when she thought back. It all began when Troy was killed by Wrath, though, now that she thought about it, she couldn’t quite understand why.

The circumstances around it were… hazy, at best. At worst, they were nonsensical. It was as if events from two different timelines were crudely stitched together. Everything before that was undecipherable.

That’s when she looked up and met eyes with Treachery.

“You,” Isabelle whispered, causing Cinni to pause, then turn to Treachery who stared back at the demoness.

“Just who are you, kid?” Isabelle asked. “Tell me… I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you feel so familiar.”

Treachery silently peered back at Isabelle. She seemed hesitant, too, but then she turned and began to walk away — as if Isabelle was trash on the side of the street.

“It’s time to go,” Treachery said, and she snapped her fingers, summoning a third knight who gently coaxed Cinni to hurry it up.

“I suppose I’ll have to cut this experiment short,” Cinni answered, and with that, she returned the slate back to its briefcase.