Anime is an Outer God's Playground

Hiro opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the blinding brightness that engulfed them. He sat up, feeling the gritty heat of sand beneath his fingers. The desert stretched endlessly around him, shimmering waves of heat radiating off the golden dunes under an unrelenting sun. They had fallen through layers of destruction, only to end up here—the 8th floor of Nazarick, a wasteland with an atmosphere so oppressive it felt like standing in the heart of a furnace.

Termite, lying nearby and still reeling from the impact, pushed himself to his knees, coughing out a choked breath. "Are… we still alive?" he gasped, trying to make sense of the surreal shift from molten lava to a scorching desert.

Hiro clenched his fists and muttered, "If it weren't for my blessing, this heat would have wiped you all out."

Imina shielded her eyes, squinting at the seemingly endless expanse of sand. "This… doesn't even look real. It's like the air itself is set on fire!"

The oppressive heat had even taken its toll on Albedo, who, despite her resilience, was visibly struggling to keep composed. "This is Nazarick's 8th floor," she said, her voice steady but with an edge of tension. "A vast desert, and one of the final lower floors. It seems Gargantua's wrath has forced us to this scorching domain."

Roberdyck, already sweating profusely, muttered in awe, "It feels like my skin is burning, even with your protection, Hiro." He looked toward him with a mix of respect and desperation. "How much longer can this blessing hold against such heat?"

Hiro gave a reassuring nod, although he was far from certain himself. "We need to keep moving. My blessing can only do so much here. Albedo," he said, turning toward her, "let's lead them to some form of shelter or shade."

Albedo scanned the horizon, her gaze intense. "There might be an oasis toward the central part of this floor," she replied, motioning for them to follow her. "But it's not without dangers. Be on guard."

As they moved forward, Hiro stayed close, his senses heightened. He didn't trust Nazarick to be so forgiving, even here in this endless sea of sand. The floor was as treacherous as any battlefield, and he could feel eyes on them.

The heat was excruciating, each step like walking into a wall of flames. Every breath tasted like scorched air, burning their throats and leaving their mouths parched. Despite Hiro's blessing, the relentless desert heat bore down on them, pressing sweat from their bodies and sapping their strength with every passing moment.

Termite staggered beside him, shielding his eyes with a trembling hand. "This… this heat is insane," he panted. "This Tomb just wants our death so badly...!

Imina's face was flushed, and she looked ready to collapse. "Are… are we sure we can keep moving like this?" Her voice cracked as she glanced toward Albedo, desperate for some kind of relief.

Albedo, kept on pushing forward with unyielding determination, nodded. "We must. There's no turning back now." She fixed her gaze on the shimmering horizon, a faint flicker of something—perhaps hope—visible in her eyes. "We'll reach the oasis soon."

Roberdyck stumbled, his hand going to his chest as if the heat had stolen the very air from his lungs. "I can't… I can barely breathe," he rasped, his eyes pleading. "Hiro… is there anything you can do?"

Hiro clenched his fists, his mind racing as he felt the limits of his protection spell beginning to fray. He'd pushed it to its maximum, but Nazarick's floors were designed to punish any who dared to survive this deep. He took a deep breath, then steadied his voice.

"Stay close, all of you. The resistance might deteriorate with such exceptional environment, but if we continue to pish our limits, we'll have a fighting chance." He looked ahead, determination hardening his gaze as he caught Albedo's eye. She gave him a resolute nod, clearly willing to keep going no matter the odds.

In the heart of the desert floor, within the looming Sand Temple, Victim rested in the center of a grand, dimly lit chamber. His strange, ethereal form hovered just above the ground, wings drooping in a way that made him look both angelic and eerie. His stillness filled the room with an unsettling calm, as if he awaited some destined purpose.

The quiet was broken by the echo of footsteps. Demiurge strode into the chamber, his calm, composed demeanor cutting through the silence. A flicker of warmth crossed his face as he approached Victim, a rare smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

"Greetings, Victim, my friend," Demiurge said, bowing slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "I bring a message from His Majesty. For the time being, your presence here is not required. His orders are that you retreat and await further instructions."

Victim's large, unblinking eyes took in Demiurge's words. He floated forward slightly, his wings fluttering as though stirred by an unseen wind. His voice, ethereal and haunting, drifted through the room. "To withdraw, when my power can be so handful in this situation? If that is his majesty's Will. Then i'll obey without question."

Demiurge nodded approvingly. "Your obedience honors Nazarick, Victim. There may come a time when your sacrifice will be necessary, but that time is not now. His Majesty wishes for you to conserve your strength until such a day arises."

With a final, respectful nod, Victim slowly began to recede from the center of the hall, fading into the shadows. As he did, his form began to blur, melding with the dim, shifting light until he vanished completely, leaving behind only the faintest trace of his eerie hum.

Demiurge turned, his expression sharpening as he prepared to leave the temple. "Now… time to prepare for the guests who shall attempt to challenge this place," he muttered to himself. And with that, he strode out, the echoes of his footsteps fading as he left the temple in silence once more.

As Demiurge stood in the Sand Temple, a second portal rippled open behind him, casting a faint, ethereal glow over the stone walls. Emerging from the portal, the Pleiades stepped forward, their movements as synchronized as a perfectly tuned machine, their eyes alert and respectful. Behind them strode Sebas, his expression calm and resolute, followed closely by Aura, her gaze sharp and attentive.

Sebas offered Demiurge a respectful nod, his calm voice cutting through the stillness. "Demiurge."

Demiurge returned the nod, gesturing toward Victim, who hovered silently in the center of the temple, his spectral form radiating a soft, unearthly light.

Aura, always vibrant and full of energy, stepped forward with a smirk, giving Victim a cheerful wave. "Victim, I'll be your escort today! Ready for some adventure?"

Victim's hauntingly calm voice filled the room, "What an honor, Lady Aura. Then, let us depart. I don't wanna make his Najesty wait any longer." He says.

With a faint shimmer, Victim drifted toward the portal. The Pleiades and Sebas stepped back slightly, giving him space as he crossed the threshold, his ethereal form melding with the portal's glow. Aura waited until he fully disappeared into the shimmering light before following, her posture vigilant.

Demiurge watched them go with a nod of satisfaction. Turning to the Pleiades and Sebas, he spoke with his usual confidence. "With Victim and Aura safely in place, our preparations here are complete. Let us ensure that everything is ready for our guests' arrival."

Narberal nodded with steely determination. "Understood, Demiurge-sama. The defenses are all in position."

The group exchanged looks of shared resolve before exiting the Sand Temple. Demiurge's faint smile reflected his pride in their readiness and loyalty, knowing each one was prepared to defend Nazarick with every ounce of strength they possessed.

Demiurge's plan to trap Hiro involved layers of deception, manipulation, and carefully timed movements. Recognizing Hiro's immense strength and resourcefulness, Demiurge knew brute force alone wouldn't be enough. Instead, the approach would require precision, misdirection, and exploiting Hiro's commitment to protect his allies.

The Pleiades would serve as the first line of engagement, positioned to guide Hiro and his companions deeper into the desert floor, luring them closer to the Sand Temple. They'd maintain an appearance of retreat, their movements calculated to make it seem as though they were deliberately avoiding Hiro's direct path. Any pursuit would bring Hiro closer to the heart of the floor and the final trap.

Sebas and Demiurge, meanwhile, had set up several illusionary barriers along the route, each designed to conceal escape routes and heighten Hiro's sense of urgency. The heat of the desert would slowly take a toll on Hiro's allies, weakening their resolve and forcing Hiro to exhaust his own powers in their defense. Albedo was expected to shield them from the worst of it, but Demiurge knew that even her strength had limits in such intense heat.

But the centerpiece of Demiurge's plan lay with Victim. Acting as a living trap, Victim would be stationed at the heart of the Sand Temple. When Hiro and his companions arrived within range, Victim would release his powerful sacrificial ability—an immobilizing aura with devastating effects on anyone caught within it. This would paralyze Hiro, making him vulnerable to Demiurge's and Sebas's coordinated assault.

As Demiurge and Sebas finalized the last of their preparations, Demiurge couldn't help but feel a rare thrill. "Our prey will be driven by his own instincts," he murmured, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "He will walk into our hands without realizing he was led there every step of the way."

Sebas nodded in agreement, his expression solemn. "The complexity of this strategy does justice to the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Demiurge-sama. We will see to it that it unfolds perfectly."

With everything set, they withdrew into the shadows, waiting for Hiro to step into their carefully laid trap.

And now that the rat was closing in, it was a simple waiting game for the trap to activate.

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