These immortal beings, the Holy Spirit and Unholy Spirits, they considered themselves greater than I am, all of them did with the exception of a few individuals. They almost appeared as the personification of human’s hypocrisy. They gave themselves the right to dictate the fate of beings that were lesser than them. They gave themselves the right to determine how a mortal being should live. It appeared to them that I was but an alien species, a kind of invasive animal to the well-established eco-system of Escana. And, they, Gods, Goddess, and Demon Lords, they were modernized men on Earth, researcher, zoologists, environmentalists who possessed all the right and justification in the world to determine my life. In the end, that was what I was. That was my worth and value in this game and this story they created.

If my meeting with Clariciel has rekindled my faith in God, my meeting with these brain-dead clowns who claimed to be Gods and Demon Lords reestablished what I have already known. “Gods, Goddesses, and Demon Lords are a bunch of dicks and cunts.” I sighed.

Sometimes, I asked myself “If FY was in my position, what would he do?” He would probably try to first establish a negotiation with these Gods and Demon Lords. And he would probably fail. They would probably not take him or his words seriously. He held no power to negotiate with them. The history of mankind has consistently shown one truth, “Man does not negotiate with animals or insects.” In that manner, these Gods, Goddesses and Demon Lords would never take FY seriously until FY could do something to destroy and warp that ingrained belief of theirs.

But since I was not FY. I could not tell what he would do after that. I could not predict what kind of miraculous kind of strategies that FY could employ to win the respect of these Immortal beings while protecting his own principles and morality.

Suddenly, I remembered S0rrow. He was probably the only one who would employ such a drastic and radical tactic just like I did, striking a blow at Kharigan to open the possibility of a negotiation.

“Radical, drastic, suicidal,” those three adjectives described the two of us well, Demon Lord and Prince. The two of us were the two biggest assholes of our respective team and our group.

I could no longer remember when that name started or when it became ingrained, the Royal Luxury Six or the Six Royal Luxuries. But I remembered being a part of that group as soon as the title Prince of The Alliance was granted to me by the fans and the media.

S0rrow, the Demon Lord of Lavatein

Nightmare, the God of GAM

FY, the King of TA

Orithyia, the Queen of AE

Fearless, the Prince of TA

Superior, the Jack of AG

All of my thirteen years of experience playing for the league, the MVP trophy and the World Cup crown were won among our members. When the Final series of the World Cup ended, it was always one of us. If it was not S0rrow, then it would be Nightmare. Otherwise, it would be Orithyia or FY and me, or Superior.

But Sorrow and Nightmare were already dominating the league and making a name for themselves before the rest of us entered the scene later. Their battles were that of a God and a Demon Lord.

S0rrow was the reason why Phúc and I earned the nickname “The biggest Fumbler” and the “Biggest Choker.” He gave us those labels after he has already crushed us in that game. He was more of a Demon Lord than any that I had met after my arrival at this strange world. “Compare to you, these brain-dead morons are clowns at best,” I stuck to my belief.

It was funny how most of those clowns were shouting these two similar lines at me all the time.

The first was, “Do you know what it means to make an enemy out of a Demon Lord?”

The second was, “Do you think you can win against a Demon Lord?”

These questions were so bad that they only appeared in an F rated movie. They were so bad and cringe-worthy that they were good. I had a blast.

I had so much fun while listening to those brain-dead morons flapped their mouths and asked such dumb questions. I laughed so much that tears came out. Since these brain-dead morons asked me the dumbest kind of questions, I gave them the dumbest kind of answers in my typical fashion.

“We were already enemy. What the fuck are you talking about? You decided to support Flokí’s decision to turn me into what… is it again… o I remember… pieces of good luck charm… so that all of you gain an equal opportunity to win the Throne… wasn’t it? You decided to mutilate me and my brother to pieces. I did not know that was something a person would do to his friend and ally. Make no mistake, you make an enemy out of me. Make no mistake about it, you mothercuffer chose to be my enemy.”

It was so dumb of an answer for a dumb question. If I was them, in their position as captives, I would have asked myself “Do you know what it means to make an enemy out of Fearless, the Prince of The Alliance?” The fact that they have already read my memory, and knew what I did to my enemies and still did not ask themselves that question was dumb. Why are you picking a fight with someone like me when you have already known what I am capable of doing? That question was something I could never answer.

If the first question was dumb, the second question was even funnier and dumber. Therefore, my answer also became much dumber as a result.

“Do you think I can win against a Demon Lord? What the fuck are you talking about, mothercuffer? Which one are you, blind, deaf, or retard? Break out of your jail first, then start talking trash to me.”

I repeated myself over and over again in front of a different captive every single time. Of all the question they could ask, they just have to ask the dumbest ones.

As I have deducted from my experience, the best reply to a dumb question was a dumb answer.

I supposed that it should be obvious since these morons supported that idea of turning me into good luck charms. I was practically pronounced as the item that promised a certain victory at the end in URLOX’s prophecy and yet, they have decided to chop me down to pieces. Even if hypothetically, the Demon Lords were the perfect personification of Communism in URLOX’s vision, Communism has never gotten this dumb in mankind history, nor Socialism.

But not all Demon Lords supported Flokí’s bill of turning me into good luck charms.

Thankfully, not all Demon Lords were dumb enough to melt down Excalibur and distribute a portion of the molten Excalibur among themselves so that all of them could be kings and queens.

Out of twelve Demon Lords who voted against Flokí́’s bill of turning me into good luck charms and shared me among the Demon Lords of Kharigan and the God of Coeles, three were tossed into a mirror hall. These three individuals claimed that they were the avenging angels of madness. Thus, I allowed them to have a taste of their own medicine. Observing them, I had a good laugh.

The Whisperer of Madness and the Embodiment of Madness were not as mad as they claimed to be. They were insane. But their puppets were a lot madder. And me, the one who unstrung those poor puppets from their master and turned them into my worshippers instead, I was already standing on top of Mount Everest of Madness looking down on these beginner climbers and waiting.

And Yasubotay, the one who styled himself as the Reflection of Madness, he pretended to be mad and rejected madness as I have surmised. He was just as a giant stinky blob of disappointment as I have predicted. I was not sure if he understood why his jail took the form of a mirror hall. There he was crawling in the all-reflective mirror hall. Whereas every resident inside the mirror hall has embraced madness as their salvation and pursued insanity as their path of life, he was the only one who pretended to be mad to avoid the torture and suffering. If this irony was not enough to teach him a moral lesson, I would charge him an expensive tutorial fee after this Divine Dream ended as his senior in the pursuit of madness.

Among those twelve, Magnamor cast a blank vote, whereas the other eight put against-votes. As a result, they received a respectful treatment for voting against Flokí’s bill.

Pride, the Golden Lioness

Lust, the Beautiful Demon Lord

Greed, the Sow of Glory

Acrẽa, the Vampire Queen

Managan, the Spawner of Blight

Sloth, the Slumbering Pacifier

Pestilence, the Great Plague

Envy, the Thousands Faces Demon Lord.

This group of eight composed of Pride’s faction. Pride was the supreme leader of this faction and the owner of this harem of Demon Lords. Lust, Greed, Acrẽa, Managan, they were all Pride’s lovers in contrast to Sloth, Pestilence, and Envy who was her errand boys.

So basically, if I won Pride over, I have already tamed 1/5 of the Demon Lords of Kharigan. For this reason alone, I had Pride as my third most important target to be recruited inside this dream.

Lust was the first. Wonten was second. And Pride was the third most important target.

If Lust’s recruitment would make me the absolute tyrant of this Divine Dream and Wonten’s recruitment equaled the doom of Kharigan, Pride’s recruitment meant that I have gained the most OP warlord in the history of the Great Game.

Or so, I thought.

Just like the other Demon Lords, Pride’s biography flavor text contained a strange poem.

The Golden Lioness Pride

The Sword of Dawn

The Bride of Twilight,

The Foe of imperfection

Either her or the inevitable of life

Not all of URLOX’s poem in the flavor text was written to be understood easily.

I wished I understood those cryptic lines earlier than I did. Otherwise, I would have never made that mistake.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I stood outside of the training facility and observed my staffs engaging in a round of Blindfold ROC. Gladiolus was on one side of the training facility and fended off waves of attacks from my military consultants and staffs at the moment. I was quiet and discreet. I did not want to disrupt their concentration.

Blindfold ROC was something that I have invented during the time I introduced Pride to the game of ROC on Earth while she was still my captive.

I remembered that Pride was talking some mad trashes about whether or not my skill as a ROC pro-gamer on Earth could translate to this world of Escana. I thought Pride’s opinions were very legit. It was a different kind of game now. It was no longer a game now since the moment URLOX patched the game and made it my reality. I could not control my units with mouse and keyboard. I would not be able to micro-manage all of my units at all time. I would not be able to monitor the battlefield at the vantage point or bird’s eye view at any time.

As a result, Blindfold ROC came to be. While it was just a normal mouse and keyboard ROC game for my opponents, I played my matches with a no-look handicap. I was not allowed to look at the screen once that round started and I could only control the movement of my army via oral command. To assist me, there were several operators on my side to describe and update the battlefield to me at real time. It was as close as it could get to any real battle on Escana.

I created the Blindfold ROC. But without Pride, this game would have been meaningless. It would have never got this far and as advanced as the one that my Chief of General Staff and head maid was playing.

Due to the current state of my miserable army, which I was not sure if the combination these units and people could be qualified as an army or not, Gladiolus had to carry an equally heavy burden as the one I was carrying.

In this dream world, Gladiolus was my Chief of General Staff, Minister of Military education, and head maid. But when this Divine Dream ended, she would gain another job, Independent Warlord. It was incredibly worrying that a person could take on so much responsibility even if she was Gladiolus.

Even though Gladiolus was being pushed back and cornered by relentless waves of attacks by my staffs and military consultants. She was licking her rich cherry lips as that fearless smile widened on her face. The smile on Gladiolus’ lips was brighter than dawn and more vibrant than a blooming flower, but savage and acquisitive that spoke of her unique innocence. Her innocence was that of the queen of beasts, the innocence of a predator, the innocence of the strong.

Gladiolus struck her ornate spear to the ground as she shouted her command to her operators with authority, reacting accordingly to the threats that my staffs and consultants threw at her army. The golden metal sheets on her maid costume chinked. Gladiolus’ movements gave off a polished and refined air of elegance that was steeped with a regal brilliance.

As usual, Gladiolus donned her Raiment of Superbia, a typical frilly maid costume that only appeared in those kind of male-fantasy fictions where a woman’s costume would often tighten and contour and emphasize that hourglass shape of her body. Her maid costume was the kind that riveted with many adorned metal plates like armor but otherwise served no purpose on the battlefield other than being a piece of decorative deadweight.

In fact, anyone else other than Gladiolus who would wear this kind costume to the battlefield would be a fool with a death wish. The full set of Gladiolus’ costume also contained a pair of two-centimeter high heel boots made of metals. Anyone who wore a pair of high heels to the battlefield and a piece of decorative junk to the battlefield instead of proper armor and greaves would definitely a fool with a death wish.

Back then, Pride wore her high heels for fashion and out of her need to look down on me since our height was similar. Now Gladiolus wore high heels for fashion alone.

I had memories of hiking a mountain on high heels due to the tyranny of a certain goddess. Thus I fully understood the pain and difficulty of wearing high heels. Thus I knew how absurd the image of a person fighting on the battlefield on high heels would be.

Just by standing next to Gladiolus, I felt like I would be showered with looks of prejudice.

Bro, your taste is so wrong. Bro, is that your taste? I did not know that you are such a weebo.

While I had no problem with being judged with eyes of prejudice, being judged for something that I played no part in the making would definitely put a twist on my expression. I certainly did not design this maid costume. This costume, it was an in-game creation of URLOX, a premium character skin of the Demon Lord Pride. A character skin was an alternate artwork or outfit that you can use to customize your character's appearance. Skins had no effect on a character's ability in battle.

This maid costume was an ultra-rare premium character skin for the Demon Lord Pride when this world of Escana was a PC game. URLOX only released 300 units of this premium character skin on the market, and thus it was a luxury. Players could only get it by bidding or go through an unending reroll of cosmetic loot boxes or be blessed by the RNGESUS.

But in this world, this maid costume was an ability of Pride’s golden armor. The Raiment of Superbia, this armor was more than just a piece of Pride’s costume. It was a part of her identity. It traveled with her through both realms, physical and spirit realm. It could change shape to match with her desire.

And her current desire was to be a maid. My maid to be exact. Thus her armor reflected that.

Gladiolus was wearing Pride’s premium character skin, but not quite. It was a recolored version of that skin. On Gladiolus’ costume, the part where Pride’s sigil the half feline mask should be painted, mine appeared instead. The golden blaze of five hands, the flag of The Alliance. Whereas the original white frills remained untouched, the parts where the crimson of blood should be colored now darkened in the black of obsidian. Those highly decorative metal plates, whereas before they would paint Pride in the radiant sublime of chrome, now they painted Gladiolus in the black and gold of my flag.

Gladiolus’ current costumed has completely trimmed out the strength and solidness of Pride’s manliness physics and instead fully embraced her womanly features. But even though Gladiolus was donning that piece of delicate costume, her form was anything but delicate. She had the perfect look and the makeup of a warrior. The volume of muscles that Gladiolus packed within her lean figure would make her a perfect poster girl for any bodybuilding gym.

As a result, Pride would have never worn something like this, a frilly maid costume, something that embraced feminine parts of her character yet neglecting her masculinity makeup.

I was reminded once again that Pride, the Golden Lioness, who I have known, no longer existed. If Pride still existed, she existed in my eroding memories.

Now, there was only Gladiolus, “The Prince’s Maid,” in her word.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Pride’s confinement facility was originally a large villa. There, every object was painted in royal brilliance and pampered with a touch of luxury. I told Pride that whatever she demanded, I would provide it to her with the exception of true freedom. “You are not allowed to leave this facility or see your subordinate Demon Lords until I end this Divine Dream.”

I told Pride the exact same line that I have told her subordinate Demon Lords. I waited in anticipation for her answer.

Pride’s faction weirded me out. But it was a good kind of weird. Their answer was unique and their questions were far from dumb. Meaning, I was not bored when I talked to them.

Lust was the weirdest of the bunch. Lust looked at me smiling, “O Prince, please keep me here as your captive, forever and ever. Do not let go of me,” with a joyous expression. I did not think I have seen a happier person when someone told her that she was going to jail. Lust’s expression betrayed only pure happiness.

Greed’s answer was funny. “Do you think this puny jail of yours could keep the mighty and glorious Greed contained?” Which I replied, “Good luck, milady. Go ahead and try.”

Greed tried to jailbreak my Divine Dream through different means and manners. Some of which I must admit that they were very creative. But the Sow of Glory soon ran into a major problem. Greed was fighting against Lust and me. I have already appointed Lust as my Chief of Intelligence and Communication as well as the Head of The Department of Divine Dream Warfare. After one year of relentless attempting jailbreak, Greed has finally realized that she was not Michael Scofield of this dreamland and gave up.

Sloth’s answer was completely unexpected, “Thank you,” said he before he went to sleep without waking once. I had no idea how Sloth could sleep while being asleep. But he truly lived up to his title The Slumbering Pacifier.

Acrẽa, the Vampire Queen, her reply was a head-scratching. And then, Pestilence. Pestilence’s reply was, however, a major disappointment, “Do you know who I am? I am Pestilence, the Great Plague.”

That was a dumb answer. Therefore, I could only converse with him in the dumbest of a manner. “And I am Fearless, the Prince of The Alliance.”

“I will kill you,” he declared.

“Pride saved you. And now, you have wasted it,” I smiled and snapped my fingers. I dropped Pestilence into a steamy sauna of my favorite liquid, alcohol but boiling. There was nothing in that sauna other than unbreakable stones, Pestilence and boiling alcohol vapor.

“It burns,” he screamed.

“Of course it burns. I am disinfecting my beautiful dream from your entire existence. I am also disinfecting you from yourself.” I clapped my hands happily and let him enjoy my 100% alcohol content sauna bath for as long as it took to kill all the bacteria and viruses that existed inside my dreamland. Alcohol was the greatest discovery in mankind history. It was the kind liquid that could make a man stupid and it could disinfect him from bacteria and virus. Pestilence then switched to his conception form, a cloud of miasma to push my 100% alcohol steam away. I tossed him into a blazing oven of purgatory fire until he reverted back to be a masses of colonies of bacteria and viruses again. It was sauna time again.

I would say that Pestilence was the only one from Pride’s faction who received that kind of treatment. Therefore, I had high hope for Pride’s answer.

Pride did not betray my hope. She made demands, a lot of demands.

Her bed was not to her liking. Pride wanted her bed to be bigger and softer. She wanted the mattress to be made of red silk and rimmed in golden threat. She demanded two large pools, one was cold with a thin layer of ice floating on top whereas the other one was hot with boiling spring water. She demanded a water lily lake that was hemmed by a pavilion of moon lilies.

Pride made a lot of demands to the point that it was impossible to think that her royal villa was a confinement facility. But, “What else?” I kept on repeating, equally as entertained and humored as Pride was.

The two of us were already playing a game, our kind of game.

Pride’s demand escalated to the point of sheer ridiculousness until she was sure that my ability to control this dreamland was about on the same level as Lust. It was wonderful that we were thinking of the same thing despite our differences. If I was in her position, I would have tested the same thing. The ability to conjure a Divine Dream was a common ability among the Immortals. However, no one can conjure a Divine Dream like Lust, the progenitor of the dream demons. Her Divine Dream was the most complex and the most beautiful. And above everything, her dreams felt real enough that a person could say “Fuck you, reality,” and continued to sleep forever.

“What else?” I continued to tease Pride even though I was sure that she was done with making demands.

Pride sat down on her royal bed and put a finger on her chin. A teasing smile spread on her red lips. “How about a lover?”

I snapped my fingers to conjure another pillow to appear on Pride’s bed. It looked exactly like the previous one that Pride had demanded.

Pride winked and wiggled her fingers, telling me to come closer. She blew an amorous breeze of autumn into my ears. She straddled my chest and unbuttoned my shirt in a caressing manner. Slowly and seductively, she brought her mouth to my ears, whispering, “Too early,” and breaking into a giggle. She patted my chin in an apologetic manner while still giggling. “It would be dreadfully boring if I was to live alone by myself inside such a large villa. Will you stay here with me and keep me in your company?”

I was sure that no man on Escana could say no at that moment, especially someone like me.

Since, I lived with Pride inside that villa as her warden and companion. We shared a room but we had our own bed and ours were as equally large as each other. Pride was a great talker and a terrific seducer, thus I enjoyed talking with her so much more than I have expected.

In fact, I enjoyed talking with Pride more than anyone else inside this Divine Dream. Talking with Envy could get boring very fast, other than the usual topic, the weaknesses of every Demon Lord, the only topic that can keep him going for days, anything else was a terrible topic. He made a worse talking partner than Misery, which made me wondered what he used his free time for.

Talking with Magnamor was worse, he was absolutely terrified of me. He always gave me the look of a lamb would to a wolf, meaning if I happened to sneeze during our conversation, he would enter a stuttering-broken-recorder-mode on the spot. He could barely say what he wanted to say.

Talking with Lust was fun and all until Lust was tired of talking and wanted nothing other than lovemaking.

Talking with Greed felt like I was back inside a mental institution again. “Serve me and your name will be remembered by Escana for a thousand years,” she said.

“How can you read my mind?” I asked.

“Of course, I can. I am Greed…”

“And I am Fearless,” I cut in between her lines as usual.

“Serve me, I said. Serve me.”

“No, you serve me. I was about to tell you that.”

“What are you talking about? What kind of Demon Lord would become a Champion for a mortal?”

“Precisely. That’s what I am talking about. If you become my Champion, you will set the precedent. You will be the first Demon Lord to ever do that, a Demon Lord who serves a mortal. For that, you will be remembered for a thousand years by every being on Escana.”

“Why would I want that kind of infamy? WRRRRRR,” Greed squealed, punching walls to vent out her anger. Even when she has lost her mind in fury, Greed could still control herself well enough to not throw her punch at me.

For that, she deserved some amount of respect from me. As a result, “Why wouldn’t you? WRRRR,” I mimicked her action and taunted Greed even further.

Pride was precious. A talker like her was incredibly precious inside this dreamland because inside this dreamland, there were only stupid people and insane people. And neither of those kinds made a good talking partner.

But above all, Pride loved playing games with me. There was no ending source of games for us to play. The game of Q and A was the usual. Pride would ask me one question and I would reply, then we reversed our role.

“Why do someone like you play this stupid kind of game?” I asked.

“I want to win.” Pride said laughing. “What’s about you?”

“To prove that I am better than everyone else.”

“Then we are similar.”

“Indeed, we are.”

She was lying down on the edge of her bed. I was on mine. We looked into each other’s eyes, grinning. Narcissists we were. Pride played the game because she wanted to beat the rest of her competitions. I played the game because I wanted to prove to myself that I was the best in the world, again and again.

“What’s your evaluation of my ability as a Champion?” I leaned over and asked.

“Though far from perfect, you are most desirable,” Pride smiled sweetly, and confessed, “I would love to have you as my Champion.”

“Thank you, I have the same opinion about you. Pride, I desire you as my Champion.”

Pride looked stunned for a moment, “Then, I am very sorry. I’m afraid that I am about to break your heart with my answer.” She wore wry teasing smile.

“Don’t be sorry,” I waved my hand with a bright smile on my lips, “If you happen to break my heart for real, I will make sure that you would be the one to mend it back to health.”

“That’s a tough responsibility.” Pride shook her head in disbelief and giggled.

“Sure is,” I nodded my head.

The two of us could play this game forever and ever. I loved talking to Pride just as much as she enjoyed talking to me. We enjoyed flirting and teasing and making each other sexually frustrated. The two of us played our next favorite game, the guessing game. I would do strange things and speak riddled words. Pride would have to guess what I was doing or talking within three attempts. And then, we would reverse our roles. But this game, too, got boring really quickly since neither of us lost a game.

Then, we were off to our next game again.

Pride held my hand and taught me how to dance. It was the kind of dance that involved weapons, a hell lot of dangerous weapons.

“How did you learn this kind of dance?” I asked.

“A few of my past Champion were Niwdar’s disciples,” Pride’s answer was so nonchalance and carefree that it was chilling.

“And Niwdar allows you to do that?”

“The rule did not forbid me.”

If Pride was a man, I would praise that she had the balls of steel because I would never do that.

I taught Pride how to dance as well, my kind of dance, the kind that involved no weapon, nothing sharp and dangerous objects. Pride taught me how to play an elven Sigrean, a 4-string plucking musical instrument that resembled a Chinese Liuqin.

I taught Pride to play the piano. She taught me how to play a whalebone flute. I taught her playing my kind of flute in return. Pride asked me to teach her playing music with leaf. I was in a good mood and thus I taught her for free.

But Pride taught me to do Titan calligraphy in return. “Recently, I have become afraid of your free stuff,” Pride said.

“So how about I take back that bed of yours for payment. But don’t worry. You are always welcome to join me on my bed.”

“I thought that was a compensation for keeping me here,” she quipped and guided my quill holding hand to write the titan runes in the correct order.

The two of us flirted so very often between our games. We seduced and tempted each other at every opportunity. Every opportunity. Every time when we held each other hand, it was game time. Every time when our body was separated by but the layers of our clothes and the heat started to become unbearable, it was the game.

Here in this dream world, I ran to my match for the first time. If my heart was made of winter, hers was made of Titanite. On the day that I was completely done with those Titan writing lessons, Pride was down to one of her breeziest premium character skins, a string velvet bikini as golden as saffron. She held my hands and invited me to swim with her in the hot spring pool, “Let me teach you, my prince, the etiquette of a swan waltz.” That was no longer a game. That was a test if I had ever taken one.

The thought that I might need to hack and cheat to make through this test was the final push. I was not prepared to go down without a fight. The pool water was hot. But Pride was so much hotter. I did not know how I passed that test. Probably because I have made Pride realized that she was not in the safe in this test.

And then, we were off the next game. It was a game but a game that we should have never played.