However, almost as if answering all his unspoken questions, the gods sitting atop their thrones slowly began to take shape in the vast darkness.
At first, they were nothing more than blinding lights—brighter than any star Lucy had ever seen. The sheer brilliance forced him to throw an arm up over his eyes, shielding them from the overwhelming glare.
But after a few seconds, the initial shock faded. His eyes adjusted, the painful brightness dimming just enough for him to make out their forms clearly.
At the base of each throne, carved in enormous, gleaming letters, were names.
He turned toward the first one.
Ithriel — God of Dominion and Control.
Ithriel sat motionless, a marble carving of brutal perfection atop a throne of iron and glass. His armor gleamed like polished ice, not a single blemish marring its surface. Above his brow floated a silver crown, spinning in slow, deliberate circles. His gaze swept over the misty expanse with twin shards of frozen gold—bored, merciless, as if he already owned everything he saw.
Lucy grimaced.
'What a creepy bastard,' he thought, shuddering slightly.
Quickly, he turned his attention to the following figure.
The plaque beneath the next throne read:
Nyxaris — Goddess of Secrets and Shadows.
Nyxaris looked barely discernible at all. Her form flickered like a dying flame, wrapped in smoke and shifting ink. She lounged lazily atop a throne woven from whispers and half-forgotten shapes, her face almost entirely hidden beneath the deep folds of a black hood. Only her mouth was visible—a sly, crooked smile that gleamed with dangerous secrets, as if she knew every dark thing that had ever been thought.
Lucy took an involuntary step back.
'Okay, I apologize, Ithriel... she's way creepier.'
Not wanting to linger, he glanced toward the third throne.
The plaque read:
Ravun — God of Annihilation and Rage.
If the others were unsettling, Ravun was pure nightmare fuel. The god towered above his cracked and broken throne, every inch of him radiating savage violence. His crimson armor looked half-melted and torn, barely containing the seething mass of energy within. With every breath, cracks spiderwebbed through the very air around him. His burning red eyes fixed on the crowd below like a predator considering a fresh kill.
Lucy swallowed hard.
'I don't want to keep apologizing, but I might have to... What is wrong with these things?!'
He shook his head quickly, trying to clear the growing unease, and focused on the final throne.
The last plaque read:
Seraphine — Goddess of Rebirth and Suffering.
Compared to the others, Seraphine was a vision. Her throne pulsed with life and death in an endless cycle—flowers blooming and withering within seconds. She wore a simple gown of ash and gold, and her bare feet rested gently atop a pool of blood-red lilies. Her silver hair tumbled in soft waves, crowned with a wreath of thorns. Her face was breathtakingly beautiful, her eyes filled with a kindness so deep that it almost hurt to look at. But beneath that compassion, Lucy sensed it—a crushing, inevitable truth.
Nothing could be reborn without being broken first.
A genuine, almost relieved smile tugged at his lips.
'Finally, someone I don't have to apologize for. What a beautiful lady.'
For a long moment, Lucy floated there, staring up at the gods in all their overwhelming glory. Awe kept him silent at first, but before long, a familiar tug of irritation started to bubble up inside him.
'Why the hell are they just staring at me like that? I mean, explain something! I'm lost over here!'
He fought the urge to shout at them, biting down on his frustration. Screaming at gods probably wasn't the most brilliant move, especially when they looked like they could vaporize him with a glance, but then a crooked smile cracked across his face as the obvious hit him.
'Oh, right. I am dead.'
The realization made him bold. What could they do, kill him again? That ship had already sailed.
"Um, gods—or whatever you are—could someone please explain why I'm floating naked in the middle of you all?!" he said, half-joking, half-serious. "Feels like you're staring through my soul and my skin, and honestly? I don't like it."
The words had barely left his mouth when a voice louder than anything he had ever heard ripped through the darkness.
"Silence, insignificant creature!" Ithriel's voice thundered, cold and absolute, his frozen-gold eyes narrowing.
Before the echoes of Ithriel's command even faded, another, even louder voice boomed through the void.
"Seriously, Seraphine, why the hell did you pick a human?!" Ravun roared, his fury vibrating through the very air. His burning red eyes glared with enough hatred to set a mountain on fire.
Lucy, surprisingly, wasn't scared. He'd already crossed death's doorstep once—what were a few pissed-off gods compared to that?
He shrugged and floated a little higher. "Hey! I'm standing-or-uh, floating right here, you know!" he said, his tone a mix of mock indignation and daring.
A sound like the purest, cutest laugh echoed through the darkness—soft, musical, and heart-melting. Then Seraphine's voice drifted gently after it, playful and unbothered.
"I don't know," she said, amusement coloring her tone, "I think he's cute."
'Damn right,' Lucy thought smugly.
Still, he couldn't help noticing the sharp glares he got from the other gods the moment she said that, especially from Ithriel, whose eyes somehow managed to look even colder.
Then, without warning—without so much as a ripple—the entire void shifted. A quiet, chilling voice slithered into his ear, as though a snake had curled around his spine.
"If that's all," the voice murmured, "I will be taking my leave."
This time, it was Nyxaris—the Goddess of Secrets and Shadows.
With that, the Goddess of Shadows vanished from her throne, leaving no trace that she had ever been there at all.
Ithriel spoke next, his voice still loud and dripping with cold authority. "I question your decisions every day, Seraphine, but this is a new low. I will also be taking my leave." Without another word, he disappeared into the endless void.
'Hey, she made the right pick, asshole,' Lucy thought, waving his fist in the air like some cartoon character.
By now, Lucy had managed to piece together the basics of his situation. He summed it up neatly in his head: 'In short, I was killed by a beautiful lady, fell through infinite darkness, got picked by an even more beautiful goddess for reasons unknown, the other gods think I'm worthless because I'm human, and... yeah, that about covers it.'
He gave himself a slight, approving nod.
Then, without so much as a goodbye, the God of Rage let out a booming grunt and vanished as well.
'Weirdo,' Lucy muttered inwardly.
A moment later, a soft, peaceful voice echoed through the darkness. "I quite like you," Seraphine said, her smile so radiant it seemed to light up the void around her.
Lucy, who had unfortunately been caught gawking at other features of the goddess besides her smile, almost missed what she said entirely.
'Man, why couldn't girls like her exist back on Earth?' he thought wistfully—before realizing she was staring directly at him.
His face turned crimson. He nearly choked in panic before remembering there was nothing to choke on in this strange place. He fumbled out, "I like you too, Your Highness—uh, Your Godliness!"
He bowed awkwardly, earning a soft, melodic giggle from Seraphine, who politely covered her mouth with one hand.
"Seraphine is fine," she said.
Before he could even process her words, she moved. In the blink of an eye, she was inches away from him, her silver hair brushing against the air between them, her bright blue eyes locking onto his. The overwhelming peace in her gaze made his heart skip a beat.
'So beautiful,' he thought, feeling dangerously close to fainting.
Before he could make a fool of himself, Seraphine spoke again, her voice playful and light. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, my champion, but first—let's go somewhere else. I hate this place. It gives me the creeps."
Her teasing tone gave him goosebumps, and not the good kind, as a vivid memory slammed back into his mind: the last time a girl had used that same playful voice... right before shooting him.
'Damn that girl... ruining a moment like this. If I ever see her again, I swear—!' he fumed internally.
Before he could react or think another hateful thought, Lucy felt his head spin as the world collapsed around him. A sensation like being ripped inside out slammed into him, and suddenly, he was yanked into existence once more.
The moment he hit solid ground, he found himself sprawled across a floor of polished white marble.
Blinking up at the ceiling, Lucy's face drained of color. "What the hell am I looking at!" he blurted without even thinking.
He scrambled to his feet, heart hammering in his chest.
He stood inside a grand palace, that much was obvious. Towering golden pillars wrapped in thick veins of ivy reached up to a roof so high he could barely see it. The floor beneath him shone like glass; the marble was so clean that it reflected the pillars like a mirror. Wide staircases of white stone twisted up toward unseen floors, and the vastness of the main hall made him feel like an ant inside a giant's home.
But none of that was what sent chills racing down his spine.
It was the others.
All around him stood creatures—beasts—each looking just as confused and disoriented as he felt.
Whipping his head to the left, Lucy nearly jumped out of his skin. A dragon-like humanoid stood there nervously twiddling its clawed thumbs. Behind it loomed a monstrous figure easily twice Lucy's height—'a giant,' if he wasn't losing his mind.
To his right, a snarling red creature shifted impatiently, its thick tusks jutting from its lower jaw—an ogre. And behind that brute stood a being that seemed halfway between man and beast, muscles coiled and ready beneath a furred hide.
Directly in front of him stood what looked at first like another human—until Lucy caught sight of the pointed ears and otherworldly grace. 'An elf.'
Lucy's mouth hung open as he slowly dusted himself off, noticing for the first time that he was somehow now wearing pants. 'Small victories,' he thought numbly.
Before he could process more, a familiar, melodic voice filled the vast chamber.
Seated on a grand throne of living vines and marble at the head of the hall, Seraphine smiled down at them all.
"Hello, my children," she said warmly, her voice carrying easily across the space. "I have already met each of you. Now, I will explain your purpose here."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle before continuing:
"We are at war. And you," she said, her bright eyes twinkling with something between pride and mischief, "have been drafted by me to fight against the armies of the other Gods."
Then, with a playful laugh that somehow eased the suffocating tension in the room, she asked:
"So... will you fight for me?"
Without thinking—without even aiming for her eyes like he was supposed to—Lucy blurted out, "Anything for you, miss!"
Seraphine let out another giggle, covering her mouth with a delicate hand, her laughter warm enough to melt glaciers.
"Good," she said, her smile lighting up the entire hall.