The memory of that fateful moment was forever etched into my mind. A haunting reminder of the insidious inferno consuming our very lives.


    In the midst of that devastating hell, I thought I had lost lady Airi, along with the rest of my brethren. Somehow, I alone had survived, my shadows shielding me from the worst of the fire. Now, my body is engraved with the grim reminder of that harrowing ordeal. The memory of those nameless assailants who had unleashed such destruction upon the Yang, fill me with seething rage, a burning desire for revenge. In spite of my luck, lady Airi had disappeared from the remains, replaced by a mechanical contraption masquerading as her, amid scorched machinery. What had happened to her? Where had those fiends taken her!?


    Luckily, I had earned the fancy of a patron who had secured me a place in Zarovar’s Selection trial. It was a chance, a glimmer of hope, to not only prove myself but also to seek retribution against the very individual who had set our lives aflame. Fate had brought us together once more, and now, the time for revenge was nigh.


    The weight of the abyss urged Remy to wrap up her fight, swathe in what remained of her pool of darkness. She rode the shadowy waves, undulating with the uncertain tide, rising and falling till they carried her to Salamander. Her shadows swished around, curving her body away from the fiery rounds hounding her, slathering her forehead in heaping mounds of shining sweat.


    Her hips felt sore, her legs nearly numb, despite the waiting period she had gotten for a break, before the next round of fighting had begun. Perhaps her earlier battles had siphoned more of her reserves than she had expected.


    She remembered the patron who had promised her vengeance and given her the chance to rise through the ranks, cement her position amongst the higher echelons, in hopes of rebuilding Yang. Or at least of finding lady Airi. She found it an impossible coincidence her patron was more trustworthy than anticipated. Then again, there are not even a handful of acquaintances you could trust, a stone’s throw away.


    A fiery shot swerved past her head, whipping her attention, back into the game. All the evading she did, ate through her reserves, eluding and manoeuvring around the hounding fiery rounds. She willed the waves lapping against Salamander’s feet to rise and expand, till they formed nine-foot-long spikes.


    The spiky darkness clashed against a fiery wall, locked in combat, vying for dominance. She clenched her teeth, pushing her miasma output to the max.


    No point in keeping reserves if I don’t survive my current fight.


    Beads of sweat rolled down scorched skin. A drop fell off a burned lash of hair, timed in sync with a shot of darkness that broke past the flaming barricade. The dark tip was thrust into Salamander’s left thigh, drawing blood out a deep gash.


    She watched the fiery assassin pry the spike out flesh, searing the wound without concern, till a red length of a scorched scar shone bright, keeping the blood from dribbling over.


    Does he feel no pain?


    She shifted her gaze to his lost hand, which was nothing more than a charred stump. He had no regrets losing flesh nor bone, branding wounds without a second thought.


    She bit her upper lip, chewing away at what remained. She worked her brow in angry swirls, realising she needed a push to finish matters. And then, she could fight the redhead all she wanted. Just one step away. One itsy bitsy step away!


    Coughing up a dry spell, she doubled over, gasping for breath.


    Screw that redheaded freak! Does he have an endless supply of miasma!?


    Salamander showed no signs of slowing down, either. A fiery blaze made its way towards her, intensifying the downpour raining over her slathered forehead.


    Grunting, she could see a flaming redhead approach her, as she stood guard, beside her lady Airi. That fouling smelling liquid, searing her nares as her world was enveloped in flames.


    Clutching her head, she blinked a few times, steadying her gaze. She then willed more of her miasma forth, cutting off the weight of the abyss, preying off her emotions. Her gaze flitted towards the lone crimson smudge past Salamander’s fiery frame.


    “What’s he up to now?”


    Linked metal shot past her fiery foe’s shoulder, narrowly brushing past the side of her face. The shadows lapped at her feet, as she slid over the rough terrain, surfing along the dark waves. She ducked and twirled about a mix of chains and fiery rounds.


    “Weren’t you keeping the redhead occupied, damned dominating bitch!?” Remy nibbled on her upper lip, rippling doubt through the waves she rode over.


    “She’s under new management too,” said a vaguely masculine voice, huddled between Salamander and Dominatrix. “You’re one tough cookie, keeping up with these two. You sure we’ve met before?”


    The currents rippling through the darkness, turned to cold sheens, like glossy ice over a glacier, transforming the ripples to dark stalactites. The darkness pierced through the soles of her opponents’ feet, as she heard a disgruntled bellow from the redhead nestled between the walking dead.


    Holding out a hand, he commanded Salamander and Dominatrix to advance, despite the wounds parading their soles. Prying his feet free from the spikes, he closed up the gaping hole with a trickle of miasma, slinking behind the pair of corpses.


    “Hold still, DAMMIT!” Remy’s rage surged into a steaming fervour, every ounce of miasma she possessed converging into a dark and ominous form. With a wave of her hand, she unleashed a colossal flood of darkness, turning the glossy sheen to a raging torrent stretching ten feet tall, crashing upon her huddled enemies. The sheer force of her miasma left them immobilized, trapped in the suffocating clutches of her power.


    She cast her gaze over the ensnared foes, a faint smile touching her lips. She could not do much less than heave and wheeze, her eyes running a headcount over her freshy ensnared prey.


    “He’s gone!” The glaring absence amongst their ranks, had her pace about, in caution. The redhead she had sought after, was nowhere to be found. Frustration and confusion swirled within her, demanding an answer as her voice echoed throughout the abyss: “Where the hell did you go!?”


    Shedding fat drops of sweat, she spun about, high on alert. She swallowed against a parched throat, her sweat kneading its way over her throat, wetting her garb.


    Despite all the precautions she had exercised, her foot got entangled with a soft surface, tripping her up. She shifted her gaze, to ascertain she had not fallen into a trap, as her eyes widened.


    “Right here.” A red tuft popped up from the corpse she had bungled over, alongside a jumble of arms coiling around her. With a sweeping blow to the ankles, the ground vanished. She choked on a feeble plea that was stuck in her throat, as she tumbled over the rough battleground, like a barrel downhill. An arm wrapped around her neck, tightening till it liberated the choking plea stuck in her dry throat, stabbing pinpricks of darkness into her visual field. Her miasma dissipated and the abyss sank its venomous fangs into her battle-battered body, breaking her hold on consciousness.


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    Wrapped in chains, Azrael deposited the newly acquired shadow clad assassin beside the burnt cadaver he had teleported through, undoing his corpse manipulation. Exhaustion clasped him in a tight embrace, dropping him on his rear.


    Exhaling a sigh, the weight of the abyss cut through his moment of weakness. Magenta strands flickered past a gleeful wind. Cerise miasma wisps beckoned him, enticing him. He could take her hand, bid his current reality farewell, and fall into a warm embrace.


    All that black and not a dash of white. If only I could’ve dyed my existence grey.


    Blinking in rapid succession, a fresh surge of panic jostled him awake.


    “I need to find a way out of this hellhole.” Squatting in front of the bound shadow clad assassin, he swept her swirling mask aside. Observing her face, he raised an eyebrow. “Nope, I have no idea who this is.”


    Tapping his fingers against the side of her face, he watched his opponent stir and grunt. Clucking his tongue, he increased the intensity of his taps, till she shifted about her bonds, snapping her eyes wide open.


    “Arghh, what happened?”


    “You lost,” said Azrael, dryly. “Seems like I’m the last one standing. Did the rules say I had to kill you, or just incapacitate you?”


    “What’re you on about, you idiot?” The shadow clad assassin rolled her eyes, noticing the limp Salamander and Dominatrix. “You control corpses to do your bidding, so what’re you waiting for? Do it! Killing me should be easy for the likes of you.”


    “Yeah, no shit. Killing a bound, half-baked assassin won’t get me anywhere. What I need is information.”


    “I have nothing to say to you!? Die in a ditch, you rotten scum! Because of you I lost everyone I cared about in that fire. I came here to find out what you did with lady Airi, but clearly that’s not going to happen.” She bit her upper lip, tears trickling down the sides of her face.


    Words faltered Azrael. His innards churned and tightened in response to a blow, deeper than any he had ever regenerated from. In that moment, the weight of the abyss came crashing down, nearly flattening him against the ground.


    Is this what it means to be whole again? If I can take pleasure in the atrocity you revelled in, perhaps the two of us aren’t so different. He could hear his own words clamour within the confines of his head, resonating, detonating an innate understanding deep within the pith of his existence, cutting through the cornerstones of his beliefs. Damn you, Mol’okh!


    His heart thundered with an intensity that drowned out the fiercest crackle of lightning, hammering against his eardrums, deafening and dulling his senses. He could tongue the acidic aftertaste of bile against the roof of his throat, his hand tightening around his chest, as he doubled over.


    “Did the weight of your sins break you?” seethed the bound assassin. “I can’t believe I lost my comrades to a brat like you!” Her scorched face lit up brighter than the sun. “Now it all makes sense. My androgynous patron sent me here, to get under your skin. To break you!”


    “Androgynous?” Azrael looked up, cutting through his dread.


    The images from the night he had fought Lilith, or rather, her look alike, flickered through his mind. Apart from her mannerisms, she had one glaring difference setting her apart from the Lilith he had known.


    “Her voice... it was the same one that echoed from the screen as it dissolved.” Gritting his teeth, he was seized by an uncontrollable wave of chills. That bastard! “We’ve been played.”


    “What do you mean ‘we’?” asked the bound assassin.


    “You, me, Lilith, everyone. It was all a setup. Do you know who that androgynous bastard is?”


    “No, but–” She bit her lip, stirring uneasily. “Do you think that scum’s got lady Airi? All I had found out was the wreckage you left behind of some smouldering machinery.”


    “Like lady Rock,” said Azrael. “She was a machine left behind after that fight.” Swallowing against a lump in his throat, he could sense his world swirling, realising he was caught in a web spun by a devious mastermind. The question is: what’s she or he after?


    “No matter the ulterior motive, ultimately you caused our downfall. You’re the root cause of everything wrong in my life!” The darkness violently shot out from the bound assassin, taking the shape of a spike.


    Before Azrael could react, he was speared through the heart. Lurching a shot of crimson up his gullet and out his lips, blackspots blurred his sight, stripping off his verve.


    Is this it?


    Slipping free from the chains wrapped about, Remy cast her bonds aside. Doubling over in an exhausted mound, she inhaled heaping mouthfuls, soothing out the throbbing ache in her head and wiping the perspiration off her forehead.


    “That was cutting it a little too close. Close to when I was about to run out of steam.” Nudging the redhead with the tip of her toes, she watched him ooze out a pool of blood. Wary of the possum she had slain, she shifted her gaze towards Salamander’s and Dominatrix’s corpses, cautious of any signs of movement. “Well, that’s that.”


    The corners of her lips curved into a knowing smile, loosening unhinged mirth. Tears gathered around the edge of her lids, as she grasped her flanks.


    “Finally, FINALLYYYY!! After an eternity of torment, I finally killed that flaming redheaded bastard. What was his name again? Ass-wreck or something?” Jumping about in peerless joy, a sudden wave of doubt beseeched her. “What the redhead said, does sound fishy. I need to get through the rest of this Selection if I am to find the androgynous bastard. But first…” Spinning about, she decided to take one last look at her fallen adversary, grinning from ear to ear.


    Caught in the clutches of an unyielding grip, she was stopped mid-spin. A confused crease of her brow parted her charred forehead. A sharp jab churned her surroundings into a blur of swirls, shadows seeding her vision.


    She could feel the soreness in her hips and legs vanish. Her body limper and lighter, than it ever had been.


    A shove cast her aside, like a lifeless ragdoll, as she crumpled to the ground. An icy shiver crept up her spine, numbing her senses.


    Her vision felt like it was fading.


    The ground was cool to the touch. A wetness slapped against her body, a wetness that seeped out in flowing droves, drenching her dark garb in a blacker shade. The blackness spread out, darker than the shadows she had commanded, holding a certainty she couldn’t refute. It held a chilling certainty, as it stretched out from her, plunging her into the depths of darkness.


    Azrael’s mind had moved on from his latest kill, lingering on the androgynous figure, who had snagged his attention.


    Who the hell are you? Toying with our lives, manipulating us on a whim!


    Gasping, a surge of power fuelled his existence. The wound in his chest knit its way into a rough patchwork of clots, till gnawed flesh was sheathed beneath skin.


    He balled his fists, glaring into the abyss surrounding him. “Until I find the bastard that played me, I’ll keep moving forward! I can die afterwards when I’m done!”


    Finally, you have gained some grit. How long have I waited for this moment.


    “Huh?” Azrael spun about, sliding his eyes over the horizon in search of his next opponent.


    Here, here. Not out there, but within.


    Raising an eyebrow, Azrael slid a hand over his chest. “Requiem?”


    Aye. Been a while.


    “This better not be a trick!” He seethed, scattering spittle. “I’ve had it with all these assassins wearing me down!”


    You’re in luck. Seems like that last thrust into the heart finally awoke me from my slumber.


    Rumbling machinery cut through their chatter, silencing the duo. The middle train lurched forward, making its way towards Azrael, flooding the dimly lit glade with its headlight. Averting his gaze, he rolled to the side, cautious of what trial awaited him next.


    The train lurched to an abrupt halt, training a projection of light onto a massive screen, weaving a grainy image into existence.


    Azrael gritted his teeth, the throb of his pulse echoing in his head, as he clutched his dagger tightly.


    “CONGRATULATIONS!!!” boomed a deep, animated voice. The entirety of the screen’s surface was filled by a gigantic visage, stroking a braided beard with an amused glint. A lustrous crown rested atop a set of horns furling off the apex of his head, with the words: Top of the Abyzz, engraved in the middle.


    A brewing fury stirred within the pith of his existence.


    Azrael raised an eyebrow, questioning the authenticity of the king-like personage talking to him through a questionable medium. “Just for the record, you’re Zarovar, yeah?”


    “That is LORD Zarovar to you, pleb,” said the bearded visage, glowering. “Wait! Did you enter the Selection without knowing WHO I AM!? Which rock did you crawl out from, you insect!?”


    “So that means I have passed your trial, right?”


    “FOOL!” Zarovar’s voice boomed, dripping with disdain. “Do you truly believe I would welcome an ignorant brat like you into my inner circle? Turn you into an elite guard under THE Sin of THE highest pedigree!?”


    “I did win against the rest of the combatants–”


    “They must have been incompetent as well for the likes of you to win. For your insolence, I will personally eradicate you!” With a cacophony of fiery outbursts, the screen disintegrated, obliterating the animated visage from the dark expanse.


    As if on cue, the door to the leading carriage swung open, inviting Azrael inside. He could feel the rising fury being culled, as the flames of hate abated.


    Nice going. Looks like we’re fighting the last boss right off the bat. I should’ve woken up some other day. Requiem loosened a sigh, but there was a giddiness to his spirits, as though he was on edge.


    Meanwhile, the redhead stepped into the foreboding carriage, ready to confront the ‘welcoming’ trial awaiting them.