Absolute Cheater

Not until the shadows behind the throne twisted into the shape of something alive.

A ripple passed through the room—cold and thick like the pressure before a deep-sea quake.

Then she emerged.

A figure glided into view from the side chamber, her arrival silent, but impossible to ignore.

Her upper body was that of a striking woman—skin pale with an opaline sheen, long raven-black hair floating as if underwater, and eyes like twin abyssal pearls that gleamed in the dark. But her lower half twisted into a sleek, powerful tail—long, scaled, and covered in faint runes that shimmered with drowned magic.

A deep-sea siren, one of the Deepborne.

She circled the throne, tail coiling and uncurling in slow, elegant loops, her movement as smooth as flowing ink.

"Just who," she asked, voice like a deadly melody, "did those fools anger to get annihilated like that?"

Her tone carried amusement, but underneath it ran a thin wire of unease.

She stopped beside the throne, peering at the shadows behind it.

The others in the chamber stepped back instinctively. Her very presence disturbed the air—chilling the breath in their lungs, tightening the pressure around their hearts.

The voice from the darkness rumbled once more.

"Alaric."

The name echoed—unnatural, heavy, and cold.

The siren raised an eyebrow. "Is he a Tourist? A Visitor?"

"Yes," the shadow replied. "But the name will spread. And that is all that matters."

She narrowed her eyes, glancing at the glowing sigils carved around the throne room. "So… you're saying he destroyed an entire syndicate just because they disturbed his tour?"

"Yes. Whether it was pride or just rage at seeing someone eaten alive," said the master of the throne. "He's a predator. I also sensed dragon blood in him—strong bloodline, most likely. And we all know how protective those lizard bastards are."

The siren tilted her head, smiling slightly. "Delicious."

But the smile vanished, replaced by a colder, sharper stare. "We lost an entire syndicate. That wasn't a battle. That was extinction."

The figure on the throne remained still.

The shadows behind him only grew deeper.

"All part of the cycle," the voice said. "Destruction feeds creation. The old must die so new ones may rise to take their place."

The siren swam higher, suspending herself mid-air like a poised serpent. "Is that it?" she asked softly. "You think we can beat him? Even I can't see the souls he destroyed. He did it in a single day—and effortlessly at that."

Another voice interrupted, rough and coated in salt, stepping out from behind a coral pillar.

"You mean we sit here and do nothing, like cowards?"

This speaker had the head of a massive octopus fused with the bone-plated face of a man. He wore a mid-era pirate's suit, sea-worn and regal, with a shredded captain's cloak trailing behind him like seaweed. He walked as if the water obeyed him.

The siren grinned. "Yes… how can we live like this?" she said, voice soaked in charm.

"You cannot control my Mind, Marina," the octopus-headed one growled.

Marina, the siren, merely snorted. "You are no fun, Drek."

She coiled lazily in the air, her long tail flicking behind her with a faint splash of magic. "Always so serious. So stiff. It's no wonder your little warband crumbled when the Storm Warden showed up."

Drek's tentacled face twitched, the bone-plated ridges along his brow tightening. "Speak again, and I'll rip the music from your throat."

"You'd try," Marina said sweetly, her voice laced with deadly amusement.

The figure on the throne raised a hand.

Enough.

Silence washed over the chamber like a tide of pressure. Even Marina stilled, her smirk fading as the air grew heavier.

The shadow behind the throne deepened, and the voice spoke once more.

"We are not here to squabble over pride. We are here because the world has changed."

A soft ripple of acknowledgment moved through the chamber.

"Alaric," the voice continued, "was a test. He was a wanderer. A calm flame. But someone disturbed it… and now we see what burns beneath."

Drek's tendrils curled tighter. "So what? We do nothing while he hunts?"

"No," the voice said. "We observe. We prepare."

Marina slowly tilted her head, curious. "For what?"

"For when the peacekeepers call for him," the voice replied. "For when the great families realize what he is. For when the balance cracks."

Another figure stirred at the edge of the chamber—this one robed in a veil of woven seaweed and polished shell-plates. A hollow voice echoed from beneath the hood. "And when it does… we strike?"

"Yes," the voice from the throne confirmed. "Not to kill him. But to claim him."

Marina's eyes narrowed. "You want to recruit that?"

"If he can kill a syndicate in a single night and still eat dessert," the hooded figure whispered, "imagine how useful he can be for us."

Drek snorted, but didn't speak.

Marina flicked her tail and twirled back through the air, thoughtful now. "I admit… I'm curious what it would take to tip him."

"To tip him," the voice said, "we only need to give him something no one else dares offer."

"Hm, I don't know if we can give him something he doesn't already have," Marina murmured, lazily twirling a lock of her inky-black hair.

The figure on the Dark Throne nodded. "That's why you will go. Join him. Find his deepest desire."

Marina stilled—but a slow, predator's smile crept onto her lips. She licked them slightly. "Good. I'd like to know for myself."

As she spoke, her lower body shimmered with ancient spelllight. Scales dissolved. Her sleek, powerful tail tore apart into two perfect human legs, long and graceful. She stood in full human form now—gorgeously curved, with the presence of a high-class seductress. The kind who could make even a saint fall into lust and sin.

The robe of sea silk she wore clung to her like living fabric, accentuating every motion, every breath. Her eyes gleamed like black pearls—mischief, hunger, and calculation dancing within them.

Drek grunted, unimpressed. "You'll try to seduce him?"

"I'll understand him," Marina replied with a wink. "If he's truly beyond reach, I'll know. But if he can be swayed…" She trailed a finger along her collarbone. "I'll be the one to do it."

The figure on the throne gestured once, and a portal shimmered open behind her—cascading water rippling across a mirror of light.

"Go," the shadow commanded. "Find what he wants most. And if it can be given… offer it."

Marina stepped forward, heels clicking once against the coral-carved floor.

"But if he refuses?" she asked casually.

"Then watch," the throne's voice said. "And learn. Everyone has a breaking point."

Marina grinned one last time, then stepped into the portal.

She vanished with a whisper of sea breeze.

The chamber fell quiet again, shadows stretching long.

Drek shook his head. "She'll lose herself if she gets too close."

"Perhaps," the shadow murmured. "But if he can be turned, Marina is the only one who might do it."

Behind the throne, the massive eye blinked again.

And deep beneath the oceans of the world, ancient things began to stir.

***

ChatGPT said:

The waves shimmered with the soft light of dusk, turning shades of purple and gold as they rolled gently across the sea. Asher leaned back against a curved bench on their private dining platform—an elegant structure made of polished glass-like coral, floating just above the ocean's surface. It was a luxurious retreat built into the edge of the Sea-Sien Ake, one of the rarest and most magical parts of the ocean across all known worlds.

The water here was so clean and clear, it reflected the stars even before the sun fully dipped below the horizon. Strange and beautiful fish swam lazily in the crystal-clear sea below, their scales catching the light like glowing jewels. Glimmering eels moved in slow circles, while schools of whisperfish darted underneath the glass floor. Sometimes, a majestic sea serpent would rise from the depths, nod as if in greeting, and then vanish again beneath the waves.

Asher sat in the middle, his usual dark clothes replaced with a fancy, high-collared coat made of red and black silk. Valeris sat beside him, relaxed but graceful, sipping a glass of glowing, soul-infused wine. Her dress looked like it was made of starlight and mist, flowing and nearly see-through in places, with her silver hair tied back loosely. On Asher's other side lounged Veyra, barefoot, curled in her seat like a lazy cat. She was toying with a bloodfruit, clearly relaxed and happy.

None of them were speaking much—no plotting, no talk of enemies or missions. It was one of those rare, peaceful moments. A break between chaos.

"I still don't understand how this thing floats," Veyra said, tapping the see-through floor with her toe.

"It doesn't float," Valeris answered, finishing her wine with a sigh. "It breathes. This whole platform is a living sea-root. It moves with the tides."

"That's creepy," Veyra muttered. "I like it."

Asher leaned forward slightly, watching a group of colorful, six-winged fish dive into a pocket of bubbles. His voice was relaxed. "I could get used to this."