There are two kinds of tamers: S-class tamers and C-class tamers.
I belong to the S-class. Those of us who wield the Celestial mark, θάνατος—the mark of death—are few and far between. Now, only two of us remain. That doesn't surprise me.
Why? Because those chosen to bear this cursed mark must walk through the shadows of death itself to survive. And by "walk," I mean we are thrown into a bottomless pit and given only three nights to escape. If we fail, fear devours us whole.
Whispers echo from nowhere—some laughing, some crying out in agony, pleading for salvation. I hear teeth gnashing, bones breaking under the crack of a whip. The wails of aborted children, the screams of violated women, and the deranged laughter of the wicked fill the abyss.
On the third night, I nearly lost my mind. The hunger gnawed at my insides, a relentless parasite feasting on whatever strength I had left. My throat was raw from thirst, my lips cracked and bleeding. Sleep had abandoned me, leaving only exhaustion and delirium in its place.
The silence was unbearable. A crushing void stretched in every direction, swallowing me whole. My thoughts drifted like scattered embers, flickering between memories and madness.
Faces from the past haunted me—ghosts of a life that felt like a cruel joke now. I saw my mother’s smile, my father’s strong hands, the laughter of friends whose names I could barely remember. But they were only echoes, distant and fading, slipping away as easily as my grip on reality.
Pain was my only companion, a constant reminder that I was still alive, though I no longer knew why I fought to remain so. What was left? What was the point?
I had accepted my fate. I was ready to die.
My body sagged, my will crumbling. The darkness welcomed me, a comforting embrace after so much suffering. My breath slowed, and I felt myself sinking into the abyss, weightless and numb.
But just as I was about to close my eyes for the last time, something jolted me back. A touch—warm, firm—wrapped around my wrist. My breath hitched as I felt fingers tighten, refusing to let go.
A hand.
It pulled me away from the void, wrenching me from the brink of oblivion. My mind screamed in confusion, torn between surrender and survival. My heart thundered in my chest, lungs burning as I gasped for air.
A blinding light seared my vision as I felt solid ground beneath me. My eyes burned from the glare, unable to focus. I saw only the faint outline of a man before he vanished.
When my vision cleared, I found myself standing outside the gates of the Underworld, lost in the heart of a desert.
I thought my suffering had ended.
I was wrong.
The Knight of the Abyss seized me and dragged me to Sheol, where I was forced to battle behemoths. I barely survived—luck was my only ally.
Even then, I nearly died.
But Takumi helped me through it. The second person to ever survive the test. It took us two years to escape. He was the one who taught me how to summon the monsters I had slain to fight alongside me.
Meanwhile, the C-class tamers bear the mark of ΖΩΗ: the mark of life. They do not undergo deadly trials, but they are as fragile as glass. Thousands of them exist, but most die in battle against a descendant. Their blood is their only means of taming. They either nourish their descendants... or become their next meal.
Regardless of the mark, neither class has an easy fate. The weak are bound to die.
I opened my eyes to the white ceiling of my room and took a deep breath. I tossed and turned before glancing out the window.
The fireball had yet to rise.
"GOOD MORNING!"
"HOLY SH—"
I flinched, biting back a curse as Carter burst into my room, grinning like an idiot.
He plopped onto my bed without invitation, his massive grin still plastered across his face.
"What the heck is wrong with you?! Don't you know how to knock?!" I snapped.
"Since when have I ever learned to do that?" He laughed.
Before I could respond, Kurama and Yosuke rushed inside, clearly having heard my outburst. They had insisted on guarding me through the night, ensuring I was safe in my sleep.
They halted at the sight of Carter lounging comfortably on my bed, their expressions shifting into mild shock before bowing respectfully to me.
"Uhm... What are you doing here?" Yosuke asked, his tone casual but his eyes wary.
Carter merely grinned, ruffling my hair playfully.
"Just paying my sister a visit."
"As you can see, she's still resting. Can't you at least wait until the fireball rises?!" Yosuke's nostrils flared in irritation.
I raised a hand to stop him before he did something rash. He might be a Libra descendant, but his temper was anything but balanced.
"It's fine. I was going to wake up early anyway," I groaned, tossing my blanket aside.
"What do you want for breakfast?" Yosuke scooted closer, eager to please. Before I could answer, Kurama smacked him upside the head.
"It's 'milady' for you!"
"Ugh, yeah, yeah," Yosuke grumbled, rubbing his sore scalp. Still, his eyes remained on me. "I'll make your favorite dish, milady."
Without waiting for confirmation, he bolted out of the room.
Kurama sighed heavily. "That fool..."
"So," Carter purred, batting his eyes, "what time are you heading back to the Center?"
I steeled myself. Don't get distracted. He's a god of erotic love. This is normal for him—even with me.
"Around noon. I'll be heading directly to the dungeon where the last descendant is sealed."
"Where? Sheol?"
"Abaddon."
Carter's smirk vanished.
"That place..." He hesitated. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"Lelith won't let you enter. You wouldn’t last a minute there."
"What?! Why?!"
I met his gaze evenly. "Because, as a god of love, your worst nightmare would be hearing the cries of those you’ve bound together by red strings... to the wrong people."
His face paled. "I-I did what?!"
Shit. He doesn't know.
"N-nothing!" I stammered, waving my hands.
"But—"
I inhaled sharply. Something smelled... off.
"Do you smell that?" I cut him off, sniffing the air.
Kurama and I exchanged horrified looks before dashing out of the room.
YOSUKE CAN’T COOK!