Ace was about to die, but he had planned on doing that soon anyway, so he didn’t really care.

In stories they make death look heroic, epic, and tragic, but Ace knew firsthand the truth about death: it’s remarkably dull. Most go quickly and unceremoniously. Those who do cling to life long enough to have a chance at last words are too busy choking on smoke or their own blood to croak any out.

Luckily, Ace didn’t have to worry about his last words. Despite his honest insistence that he didn't know any skills the knights still gagged him. Even if Ace could speak there wasn’t anybody left to say goodbye to. His only real complaint regarding his execution was the conditions.

The rain-soaked cloth over Ace’s head clung to his face, forcing him to keep his head down to prolong his suffocation. Howling winds whipped through Kaimen bringing with them a bone-chilling cold—one that was only amplified by the waterlogged nature of Ace’s attire. His captors hadn’t even granted him the courtesy of footwear; the rough cobblestone street blistered Ace’s feet. A cacophony of the townsfolk's jeers echoed in Ace’s ears as the Armistice Order paraded their fresh scapegoats around the town.

10,789 10,790 10,791 …

Ace listened closely for the sound of raindrops impacting the street, counting each. He enjoyed these sorts of mundane tasks; they helped distract him from how disappointing life was. A long time ago, Ace’s friend had criticized him.

“Why are you always doing this stuff?” she had asked him.

“Because with the way the world is you only have three real options: be cruel, be blind, or be righteous. You’d be mad at me if I chose the first, and the last is too taxing. This is just how I blind myself. Helps me tune everything out,” Ace said.

Ace never forgot her smile that followed his response.

“You know who I think is the cruelest?” she asked. “Whoever decided the world should be so beautiful, and life should be so short.”

“Again with the poetic nonsense,” Ace said, rolling his eyes. “I seriously don’t get half the shit you say Lumina.”

“You’ll understand it one day.”

“Doubt it.”

“We’ll see,” Lumina said with a smile. “Well if you’re not doing anything, wanna play two truths, and a lie?”

“Is that the only game you know?” Ace asked.

“I know other games!” Lumina said. “I just like this one the most. Especially when I’m playing with you.”

“Sorry, I don’t have time for games.”

“You never have time to play! Do you even like playing with me?!”

“I do.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Ace closed the book in his hands. “Alright, let’s play. My turn first.”

Years later, it was still Ace’s turn.

Ace never did get to ask Lumina about all the things she said. He had figured an opportunity would come, in whatever place came after all this, but with everything he’d done since he left home, he wasn’t too sure he was going to the same place she was. Still, even if he didn’t understand anything she said, Ace had always enjoyed Lumina’s company.

Ah, maybe I was in love. Guess it doesn’t matter now anyway. Just another entry on a long list of regrets, Ace thought.

The knight that had been leading Ace yanked on his restraints, pulling him aside. “Make way!”

Did he have to yell straight into my ear?

The crowd surrounding the gallows tree parted. A figure carrying a large wooden crate began to march down the opening.

The figure’s plate armor shined, illuminating the city street in the sun’s absence. Golden chains, reminiscent of the Chained Maiden—one of the deities worshiped by the Armistice Order—enveloped their armor.

With each step, the chains rattled against the armor. The sound of metal on metal—though typically irritating—was strangely comforting, like the ringing of bells signaling a workday’s end, and the weekend’s start.

Even amid the torrential rain, the figure remained completely dry; their [Divine Protection] caused the rain to roll off them before it could touch their armor. With great care, they placed the crate underneath the elevated platform where the criminals would be hanged.

Galland gazed up at the tree. It was adorned with vibrant green leaves and deep brown bark. He even spotted a few birds' nests. The tree’s lively exterior served as a stark contrast to the decrepit bodies that hung from it; their withered, dusty skin that clung to brittle bones made them resemble ghouls more than people.

Galland took a deep breath to steady himself. Year’s end was soon to come. Soon these people would be put to rest. Soon Galland could look upon this tree and be at peace with himself. Yet, soon after that, the tree would come to resemble its current state as it always had.

Galland raised his hand, signaling for the captives to be brought forward.

Ace went last. Part of him hoped some revelation would come to him, a reason to flail hopelessly while he hanged.

Perhaps it would come as his feet clamored across cobble as he was dragged toward the gallows? Nothing.

Maybe when the floor below his feet shifted from stone to wood as the reality of the situation dawned on him? Once again, nothing.

Surely as the noose was fitted around his neck, right? Still, nothing.

Ace had learned to have no expectations of life, yet he still felt disappointed. His life wasn’t flashing before his eyes. No revelations surged to the forefront of his mind. His heart wasn’t even beating any faster.

Galland turned to address a woman. She wore marble white robes with a golden cloak—the same color as Galland’s chains—that stopped at her waist. Around her neck was a chain; her clasped hands covered something hanging around her neck.

“Priestess, if you would.” Galland stepped to the side to allow the woman to pass him. As she did he leaned in and whispered to her. “First names only this time.”

“Told you they wouldn’t approve,” the woman said.

“They deserve this much, Nina.”

Nina sighed. “Of course, Galland.”

Nina opened her hands as if she was embracing the sky itself. The clustered ball of chains around her neck, now visible, began to slowly unravel as she spoke.

“Let the shackles that bound you in this life be cast aside.

“Let yourself be free.

“Let the maiden take them upon herself.

“Let the afterlife be gracious to thee.

“Let that which you loved be burnt.

“Let their embers light the way.

“Let those whom you loved be found again.

“Let yourself find happiness someday.

“I pray these blessings be upon you.

“Let what I have said today be true.”

By the time Nina’s prayer concluded the cluster of chains around her neck had completely unraveled and were flowing in the sky like ribbons. As she finished, the chains tightened once again, knotting themselves back into a ball.

Nina turned to Galland, who nodded his head with thanks.

Ace felt himself lifted, and placed upon a box. As the knight behind him let go of the rope he felt it caress his neck.

“Hold on!” A large—too large to be purely human—gray-skinned, pot-bellied man cried out from the crowd. “You’re doing it wrong! The rope is too loose, there’s no tension in it. You drop them now, and they’ll just snap their necks. Tighten the rope! Let them hang! Let them hang! Let them hang!”

A single uproar grew into a cacophony, as the entire crowd joined the man’s chant.

“Let them hang! Let them hang! Let them hang!”

One of the knights on the gallows looked to Galland. “Paladin?”

Galland’s head faced the ground. His armor creaked as his hands turned to fists. Before Galland could speak, he felt a hand placed on his shoulder.

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Galland turned to see a tall, slender man with long pointy ears and tan skin standing behind him. The armor he wore was similar to Galland’s though his was leather not metal, and his chains were only painted on. At his hip lay a quiver of arrows and slung across his shoulder was a longbow—both oversized for a human.

“Do as the man says,” he commanded.

“Yes, Sir Darren,” the knight said.

“Keep it together,” Darren whispered to Galland, while the knights tightened the ropes. “Give me the torch.”

Galland unclipped a torch from his belt and handed it to Darren.

“Everything ready?” Darren asked.

The knights atop the gallows nodded.

Darren turned to the crowd. “Are the ropes okay?” Darren asked the gray-skinned man.

“Good enough.”

Darren rolled his eyes at the man’s response. He approached the gallows, bending down to the crate that sat beneath it. Using a match he pulled from a pouch on his waist, Darren ignited the torch.

“Get ready!” Darren shouted. He placed the torch on the crate till it caught fire.

The moment the knights saw smoke rise to the gallows they swiftly kicked the boxes out from underneath the captives' feet.

The rope slammed into Ace’s throat. Though his body instinctively convulsed, eventually Ace relaxed himself. As he hanged he waited for some grand insight to reveal itself to him. Nothing.

Life had disappointed Ace till the bitter end.

----------------------------------------

Ace soon realized that he had lost all his senses. Everything had become a colorless void. He wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, only that it had.

He could no longer feel the rope abrading his neck as it crushed his windpipe or the warmth of the fire that bellowed beneath him. He could no longer hear the people of Kaimen cry out for his death. He could no longer smell the smoke from his possessions burning nor taste it as it flooded his mouth accelerating his asphyxiation. He could no longer see the world steadily lose its clarity as smoke singed his eyes, and his brain was deprived of oxygen.

Without his senses, Ace was unable to tell how long he stayed like this—or which way was up and which way was down.

Eventually, the void that surrounded Ace abruptly began to take form. An outline of a humanoid figure emerged from the nothingness that permeated the space.

Seeing the figure was how Ace learned his sight had returned. His uncontrollable laughter that followed was how he learned his hearing had returned. The feeling of tears of joy running down his face was how he learned his touch had returned. The saltiness of those tears, as they streamed into his mouth, was how he learned his taste had returned. The smell of blood and fire that radiated off the figure was how he learned his smell had returned.

“Hello, Mr. Lustres.” Ace froze upon hearing the figure speak. The figure slowly examined themself, as if they had just been born. “I’m typically seen as a monster. A person isn’t exceedingly rare. But a real person, now that is interesting.”

“Who are you?” Ace asked.

“Ah, complicated question,” the figure said. “I’ve had a lot of names. Satan, Beelzebub, Lucifer, but those have all been lost. One has persisted though. Are you familiar with the Devil?”

Ace cocked his head. His jaw hung slack as his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Confusion? Doubt? A mix of both? All valid reactions. Sadly, we don’t have much time,” the Devil said.

“Why?” Ace asked.

“You are aware that you are dying, yes?”

“I’m not dead?”

The Devil scoffed. “You wouldn't be of any use to me if you were. That being said, I’m only witnessing your death second-hand, yet even I can tell it is painful, so we ought to hurry this up. I want you to be my avatar.”

“I’ll pass,” Ace said. “Not a fan of your work.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not evil.”

“You’re one letter off evil.”

“Like I said, one of many names.”

“If not evil, then what are you?” Though technically he was still dying, for Ace, his life had already ended, so this was just a moment to entertain himself.

“A fix to a broken system,” the Devil said.

“What system? The train system?” Ace asked.

“The afterlife.”

Ace raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain?”

“It’s a long explanation, and you are dying expeditiously,” the Devil reminded Ace.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m comfortable with dying.”.

“Right, I already knew that,” the Devil muttered. “The short explanation is that the afterlife was designed to judge people based on their actions in life.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Ace asked.

“For the most part, no. However, there are corner cases. Take, for instance, a slave who fantasizes about murdering his master, taking their position, and torturing their fellow slaves twice as much as they already are. A real twisted individual. However, given their status as a slave, they lack the means to act on their desires.

“One day, either due to starvation or excessive torture, they die. Then, because they never acted on the malice at the core of their being, this person manages to cheat their way into a pleasant afterlife.”

“If you can tell what a person’s desires and intentions are, then how is this a problem?”

“One of the follies of free will is that for it to exist no entity may have the power to both influence and create. One can either build the rivers or alter their flow, never both. Nobody is born with desires, so creators cannot comprehend them,” the Devil explained.

“To fix this, I was created, and granted the ability to understand the desires of those with free will. My purpose was to find those with evil at their core, and then give them the means to act on their desires. I would make them my avatars.”

“You enabled people to inflict their darkest fantasies on the world so that they could be judged fairly? Doesn’t seem like the optimal fix to me,” Ace said.

“Shatter a cup, and no matter how hard you try to put the pieces back together there will always be cracks. No fix is perfect. Not even me.”.

“So, why don’t you judge people?” Ace asked. “Or another creation that can understand desires?

“Creations can only be judged by their creators, supposedly.” The Devil’s visage flickered briefly. It was the first hint of emotion Ace had seen them—or maybe it—display.

“What desires am I meant to act out on? That’s why you’re here right, offering me to be your avatar?” Ace only had one desire, but he knew it wasn’t evil.

“Actually, this is my desire, a personal vendetta to be precise,” the Devil said. “See, when humanity went nuclear—”

“Nuclear?”

“Ah, Freudian slip. Wait, you don't know what that means either. Just forget what I said

“All that you need to know is that eventually the powers that be decided to get more hands-on with your world. Their essence began to bleed all over giving birth to new life, technology, materials, and powers that all intermingled with what was already present.

“That was fine. New elements created a degree of variance, but they didn’t favor anybody in particular. Things were different, but not distorted. Life remained as fair as it was before.”

“Life isn’t very fair,” Ace said..

“Never said it was fair to begin with,” the Devil replied. “However, things changed when they decided to take some inspiration from me.”

Ace immediately understood what the Devil meant. “Avatars.”

“Precisely. The antidote, administered incorrectly, became a poison unto itself. ”

“I thought you said creators can’t influence their creations.”

“That’s the problem. Avatars lack guidance. Creators cannot interact with their avatars beyond creating power for them. A select few, given god-like power, without any guidance, left to their devices lead to a world of disorder and disarray.”

“And with a personal ambassador waiting for them in the afterlife, I can't imagine things are very difficult for them even after death.”

“Why would they be?”

“But if it’s such a problem, why don’t you fix it yourself?” Ace asked. “You have the power to influence.”

“True,” the Devil said. “However, while benefactors can’t interact with their avatars, they can interact with me.”

“Aren’t you one of their creations?”

“I’m a special case. So while in theory, I could stop these avatars, I’d draw the ire of far more powerful forces far too quickly.”

“Which is why you want me. They can’t touch me.”

The Devil grinned. “Exactly.”

“So I just kill all the avatars?”

“Only those who don’t deserve their power. That’s a line I’ll let you draw.”

“Still, aren’t they guaranteed a pleasant afterlife? What does killing them solve?” Ace asked.

“It puts them on my playing field. Once they’re dead, specifically by your hand, I’ll take it from there.”

Ace went silent, diving deep into thought.

“Also, don’t be mistaken, this isn’t just for me. As my avatar, you will punish wicked avatars.” The Devil gestured to his visage. “Present company is not excluded. Though one could raze a whole village, and slaughter every inhabitant by themselves, it would be easier with a little help, wouldn’t you agree?

“Your initial outburst was based on the presumption that the person you see before you was rotting for eternity just as you had convinced yourself you would be. However, I can assure you, they are alive and well.”

“Why me?” Ace’s voice shifted drastically from sarcastic and inquisitive to cold and serious.

“You're one of their creations. I just explained—”

“No, why me specifically?”.

“Because you’re the strongest,” the Devil said matter-of-factly. “Tell me, who do you think is the strongest?”

Ace knew the answer wasn’t an obvious one, and he had a terrible habit of always needing to be right.

“Someone with nothing to lose,” Ace answered.

“Close. However, somebody with nothing grows comfortable having nothing. A peasant is more likely to share than a noble, as they are accustomed to not having much.”

“So then someone with everything,” Ace said.

“Again, close, but not quite. Someone with everything fails to appreciate its value. They use, spend, and consume, unperturbed by their losses.

“The correct answer is someone who has had everything taken away and been left with nothing but hope. Those are the people who fight tooth and nail for every scrap, every copper, every piece of moldy bread they come across. They cling to what little they have because of their hope that they can reclaim some semblance of their past. Or, in your case, find some closure.”

Ace’s body began flaking away.

“Seems our time is almost up. So, do we have a deal?” the Devil asked.

The Devil extended his hand.

Without hesitation, Ace grasped the Devil’s forearm. “Deal.”

The Devil grinned, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “Till death do we meet again.”

Ace mirrored the Devil’s grin. “Sorry, but I have a reason to live now.”

“I’m sure you’ll be back.”

Ace’s body flaked away, vanishing into the void.

Alone in the void, the Devil began to laugh. “They all find their way back. Eventually.”

As Ace felt himself pulled back to his body a flash of text filled his vision.

[ You have become The Avatar of the Devil. ]

[ You have unlocked the following skill: [Pact]. ]

[ You have gained the following epithet: The Devil’s Advocate. ]