AN:longer chapter for my birthday and please answer the question at the end of the chapter.
After putting out the fire, I made my way to the tomb in the southern part of the graveyard where he said the wand was. As I walked deeper into the area, ghost versions of the scapegoat tokens started to float by but completely ignored me. A few minutes later, a vile smell hit my nose, along with the sound of snarling coming from the fog ahead of me. Pulling the bow off my shoulder, I get an arrow ready and pull it back and as I do, I see three Plague Wolves all three all-black wolves with patches of missing fur.
I shoot the first one in the eye, incinerating its brain. The one on the left jumps at me, but I dodge and kick it into a headstone. The other tries to bite my leg, but I use the bow to smash its head, then shoot an arrow into its missing skin, causing it to burn internally. After dealing with the three wolves, I collected the small dark cores they left behind and I stored them in my new spell I picked up a few months back. (Hidden Armory)
After a minute of walking, I arrived at a large hole in the ground with stone dragons on both sides of the entrance with marble stairs leading down into the tomb, though they showed signs of damage from spells and claws. Raising my hand, I create a small ball of fire and control it with my gravity manipulation before heading down the stairs. Arriving at the bottom, I see many pieces of armor and destroyed golems all heading down the hall. After a second of walking, I could hear the sound of growling followed by guttural giggling dimming my light. I pull back the string of the bow and peek around the corner and see two feral imps and a horned imp bending over the body of a deer without wasting a second. I released three quick shots, killing all three of them. Each left behind cores and the horn of the honed imp. After storing them away, I continued walking down the hall.
Arriving at the burial chamber, it was sealed with a large stone door. I tried to push it open, but it was too heavy, so I manifested my spirit's claws all the way up to my shoulders on both arms and tried again, this time slowly moving it. I used a small amount of gravity manipulation to lift the door off the ground, and it opened a lot easier. Walking in, I moved the fireball into the center of the room and increased its intensity, lighting up the room.
In the center of the room was a stone casket with a woman's name on it, but in front of it was a skeleton in a set of faded brown robes, which had burn marks and claw wounds across them. In its hand was a staff with a skull on top. As I approached, a purple aura appeared around the skull on the staff before moving into the body. The purple aura around the skull pulsed once.
It flowed like liquid thought, sinking into the skeleton's bones.
I froze.
The bones twitched. A dry crack echoed through the burial chamber as the skull slowly lifted. For a moment, nothing happened. Then violet light ignited in the empty sockets. Not violently. Not explosively,Just… awareness.
The skeleton inhaled. That shouldn't have been possible. Dust fell from its robes as it slowly rose to its feet, staff still clutched in its bony fingers. Its movements were smooth. Too smooth. It seemed as though gravity was adapting to suit it.
"…How nostalgic," it said. The voice wasn't raspy like dead lungs forcing air. It was clear. Measured. Cultured. And it echoed slightly in the air around me instead of from its mouth. Its head tilted. "You are not the hero." I tightened my grip on the bow. The violet glow studied me.
"…No. You are something far more interesting." The air vibrated. Just slightly. The vibration was like a low hum beneath the surface of reality. It wasn't an attack. It was controlled. Deliberate. The skeleton took one step forward. Stone didn't echo beneath its feet. "You carry the chill of Hel upon your soul." My breath hitched. It gave a small pause. "…You were unaware." The glow sharpened faintly, not mockingly, just analytically.
"You are partially undead." Silence filled the tomb. The fireball above me flickered. "That blessing did more than grant you immortality," it continued calmly. "Your soul does not rest fully in the realm of the living. Nor does it belong entirely to the dead." It tapped the staff once against the stone floor. The sound rippled outward in a soft distortion. "You are… anchored."
My mind raced. The skeleton tilted its head slightly the other way. "And layered atop that…" The violet light brightened just a fraction. "…another Underworld Goddess has placed her mark upon you." A faint hum spread through the chamber again. "Two death-aligned divinities touching one soul." There was a quiet, almost impressed exhale. "How greedy the afterlives are becoming."
I felt the pressure in the room increase slightly—not crushing, just… immense. "If I intended you harm," it said evenly, "you would already be disassembled at the molecular level." For a brief second, the air around its staff warped—a microscopic tremor that made my skin crawl. Then it stopped. Perfect control. The presence shifted. Softer now. "You purified the phoenix." It nodded once. "You granted mercy within a corruption domain." Its gaze drifted briefly toward the casket behind it. "This body once did the same." I followed its glance. "This was my first successor."
The words were not dramatic. Just factual. "He aided the hero who dethroned the tyrant above. He possessed conviction." A faint pause. "He lacked compatibility." The violet light returned to me. "But you…" The air vibrated again—not hostile. Curious. "You balance life and death." "You wield gravity as if it were an obedient servant." "You walk into domains alone." "And you are not yet aware of what you are becoming." The skeleton straightened fully. It did not loom. It did not threaten. It was observed. "My name," it said calmly, "is Beelzebub." The name settled in the air with weight. "Former god." "Prince among demons." "Scholar of ruin." "And an architect of something far more refined than simple tyranny."
It planted the staff lightly against the stone. The vibration this time was controlled—precise. The intentional destruction was measured. "The world is preparing to enter what I call… the Great Game." Its tone remained friendly. Almost conversational. "But I will not bore you with rules before knowing if you possess curiosity." The violet glow focused directly on me. "You are already touched by death." "You are already immortal." "You are already playing." There was a slight nod of approval. "Tell me, Jason." The air grew still. "Have you ever desired to surpass gods… rather than serve them?"
"I certainly would but i am not ungrateful to the ones that have helped me gain the power I now have but I am always looking to grow stronger apically with what I know comes in the future of this world: the gentle darkness in the body of a human, the light of destruction making its moves in a year, the explosions of multiple reactors in the future, along with the war between the signer dragons and earthbound immortals after that all, not counting the dimensional wars after that, so yes, I am interested in that power if it means I can handle all of those threats and any that appear that i don't know about," I said, trying to keep my cool.
The violet light in his hollow eyes did not flare. It sharpened. Not with aggression. With interest. "I see," Beelzebub said quietly. The staff gave a faint hum—not a warning, but a reaction. The staff seemed to endorse my response. "You do not reject your benefactors." A small nod. "Good. Ingratitude is a dull trait." He began to circle me slowly. The skeletal body moved with unnatural grace, robes barely whispering against stone. "You are aware of the Gentle Darkness." The air vibrated faintly. "You are aware of the Light of Destruction." Another step. "You are aware of the Signer Dragons… and the Earthbound Immortals."
His tone did not change—but the temperature of the room felt as though it had dropped a few degrees. "And beyond that… the dimensional fractures." He stopped in front of me again. "You are not simply surviving in this world." "You are studying it." The violet glow intensified slightly. "And you wish to be prepared." A soft chuckle escaped him. "That is not ambition born of pride." "That is strategic foresight."
He lifted the staff slightly, and for just a moment the air between us fractured—a microscopic lattice of vibrations, controlled to an impossible degree. "I am not offering you borrowed strength." The distortion vanished. "I am offering evolution." He tilted his head again, examining me. "You are already tethered to Hel." He is alsoblessed by another sovereign of the underworld.
"You will grow." "That is inevitable." "But growth without direction becomes catastrophe." The skeleton's fingers tightened subtly around the staff. "My first successor possessed courage." "He died aiding a "He never surpassed one.'"
A pause.
"I require someone who intends to." The violet glow dimmed slightly—not weaker, but controlled. "The Great Game is not chaos." "It is selection." "The Seven Sins move." "The Virtues counter." "Divinities maneuver." "Ancient forces test one another through mortal vessels." His gaze locked onto mine. "You are already a piece on the board." There was another small hum, a sign of contained power. "I am offering you something different." He stepped closer—not threateningly, but intimately. "To inherit my name is not to abandon your patrons." "It is to stand parallel to them."
A faint, almost amused tone entered his voice. "You would not serve me." "You would become my continuation." Silence filled the tomb. "You fear the Gentle Darkness." "You anticipate the Light of Destruction."
"You calculate reactor meltdowns and dimensional collapse."
The skull tilted slightly. "You think like a scholar." A faint smile touched the skeletal jaw. "That pleases me." He planted the staff firmly once more. No explosion. No shockwave. Just a pulse contained devastation, held perfectly in check. "I will ask you plainly, Jason." The violet light burned steadily. "Do you seek power merely to survive the storms you foresee…"
"Or would you prefer to take a central position and determine which forces are permitted to coexist once the chaos subsides?"
He waited. Not pressuring. Not coercing. Simply offering. The tomb felt tiny in that moment. "And understand this," he added gently, "If you accept, you will not simply gain strength." "You will gain enemies." A faint hum. "Of the highest caliber." His tonesoftened just slightly. "But I suspect…" "You would find that stimulating." He fell silent.
Waiting.
"Yes, I want to do more than survive; I want to thrive and stand near the top of the world so I can protect those I care about and their descendants and help humanity the best I can." I said respectfully but firmly while maintaining eye contact with the lord of the flies.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
The violet light in his eyes did not flare.
It deepened. Measured. Evaluating. "You maintain eye contact. A faint note of approval entered his voice. "Most mortals do not." The skeletal fingers adjusted slightly on the staff—not in threat, but in consideration. "You do not seek dominion for indulgence." "You do not seek power for vanity." A small pause. "You seek position." The air gave a soft hum. "To protect." Another step closer—not invading, but deliberate. "To ensure continuity." His head tilted slightly. "To guard not only those you care for… but their descendants." There was something almost thoughtful in his tone now. "You think generationally." A faint, almost pleased exhale left him. "That is rare." The tomb grew still.
"You misunderstand one thing."
The violet glow sharpened slightly.
"To stand near the top of the world… is not enough."
A subtle vibration rippled outward from the staff—controlled, microscopic, precise. "If you merely stand near the summit…" "You will be swept aside by those who intend to stand above it." His gaze locked onto mine. "If you accept my name…" "You do not climb near the peak." "You become one of the forces that define its height." Silence again. Then his tone softened slightly. "You speak of protecting humanity." "That aligns with my interests." A faint chuckle. "Humanity is endlessly fascinating when pressured correctly." The glow dimmed slightly—not weaker, but contemplative. "The Gentle Darkness will test bonds." "The Light of Destruction will test resolve." "The Signer Dragons and Earthbound Immortals will test destiny." "Dimensional fractures will test structure."
His staff gave a faint pulse. "But the Sins and the Virtues…" For the first time, the vibration in the air felt older. "Heavier." "They test ideology.
He leaned slightly on the staff, relaxed. "If you inherit my name, you will not be commanded." "You will not be leashed." "You will not be stripped of your existing contracts." His tone became precise. "You will gain my research." "My authority." "My vibration." "My curse." That last word lingered. Not ominous. Honest. "My existence erodes." "Those close to me suffer." "My power disassembles." "Perfectly efficient; he let that settle. "If you inherit it…" "You must master it." "Or it will master you." The violet light softened again. "But you are already partially dead." "Your soul is structurally reinforced by Hel." "You are stabilized by another underworld sovereign."
A faint hum. "You are… compatible."A pause. Then finally: "Very well." The staff's skull pulsed once. "If your desire is to thrive rather than merely survive…" "If your goal is to protect without kneeling…" "If you wish to stand not as a pawn, but as a defining force…" The air around us began to vibrate slightly—not destructively, but like reality tuning itself. "Then I will offer you the first move of the Great Game." The violet glow burned steadily. "Speak it clearly." "Do you accept the inheritance of my name and the burden that accompanies it?" The room fell silent for a moment before I responded.
"I do and I intend to win this great game." I said, holding out my hand to shake his in agreement, ready for any test he sends my way in the future with a large, determined smile.
The violet light in his eyes did not flare wildly—it steadied, focused. "You intend to win." A faint hum resonated through the staff, not violent but approving, and his skeletal hand lifted to meet mine. For a fraction of a second, the air between us distorted, not tearing but calibrating. "As a witness," he said calmly, "the underworlds that have marked you. " As a witness, I stand at the threshold of life and death." His fingers closed around my hand, and instead of cold or decay, I felt vibration—perfectly controlled oscillation flowing from his bones into mine. It did not hurt at first. "My name is not a title," he continued evenly. "It is a structure. You do not replace me. You extend me." The tomb floor cracked in microscopic lines as the frequency adjusted.
"You inherit the name Beelzebub—and with it, the Principle of Dissonance: the authority to vibrate matter, disrupt structure, dismantle energy, and silence divinity." The vibration spiked, and for an instant my body existed in multiple phases—alive, dead, anchored, and divided—before stabilizing as Hel's mark flared cold and steadied the surge. "Compatibility confirmed. You begin at the lowest threshold. At full output, you would erase this mountain. Understand this: you are not my servant—you are my successor." The Great Game acknowledged my entry like a distant piece placed upon a cosmic board. I could sense them now—the Sins, the Virtues, other inheritors—some who might seek alliance, most who would seek elimination. "You will train, refine, and when the Gentle Darkness moves, you will intervene." The aura withdrew back into the staff's skull as the body dimmed. "Become something humanity cannot afford to lose." The skeleton collapsed into stillness, but the staff remained upright, violet energy pulsing faintly within it. The tomb fell silent, yet I could feel distant threads of awareness watching. The Great Game had begun.
AN:please leave your ideas for character's to inherit the other sins and virtues weather they are from GX or 5DS