Dante's mind was in turmoil. Every time the Trickster and the Sound God took control of his body, it felt like his sense of self was being torn apart. But it wasn't a battle for dominance. It was more like a forced sharing, each god taking turns speaking when necessary. Dante was no longer just a vessel—he was a battleground for their wills.
The Trickster, ever mischievous, seized control again. His voice, dripping with wickedness, echoed inside Dante's mind.
"Ah, kid, I do love this chaos. Can you feel it? We're just getting started," the Trickster said, grinning as Dante's body moved on its own accord.
Dante fought the urge to speak, knowing that this wasn't his voice, but the Trickster's taking over. He still loathed what the Trickster had done, but now he had to deal with the aftermath.
Suddenly, the Sound God claimed control, his presence settling like an eerie calm. His voice was smooth and calculated, with an air of authority. "I hope you realize what this means," the Sound God remarked. "We're not just caught in the middle of a divine war. We're stirring the pot."
Dante tried to steady his breathing, feeling his very mind being stretched thin. The gods needed his body for their purposes, but the strain was starting to show.
"The gods are already at war," the Sound God continued, his tone not lacking in gravity. "And you're part of the reason why. Klythar sent an assassin to Oris. His target? Oris himself. This will create even more chaos."
Dante's mind churned. Klythar was dangerous—an agent of destruction who thrived on spreading conflict. He could already feel the shifting tensions between the gods, a line being drawn between those who sought to destroy Oris and those who wanted peace.
"The gods are dividing themselves now," the Sound God said, his voice now full of resignation. "Those who wish Oris dead and those who want peace with him. Klythar's actions will make it impossible to restore order. It's a recipe for even more chaos."
The Trickster took over again, his tone laced with excitement. "Oh, I love this part! More conflict means more fun for us! You see, while they're busy fighting, we'll have the perfect opportunity to take what we need."
Dante's mind struggled to stay focused. The Trickster wasn't just causing chaos for the sake of it—there was a method behind the madness.
The Trickster continued, grinning in Dante's head. "The more chaos we create, the more we can distract the gods. We're after some artifacts, kid. Things that will stabilize your body. And while we're at it, we'll be getting closer to freeing Zerathis."
Dante's stomach twisted at the thought. The Trickster had been playing the gods like pieces on a chessboard, manipulating them for his own gain. Every conflict, every war, was just another opportunity for him to steal what he needed.
But Dante couldn't deny that part of him understood. He didn't want to be just a tool for the Trickster's amusement, but what other choice did he have?
"What do you want me to do?" Dante asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Patience, kid. We're not there yet," the Trickster replied. "The gods are going to tear themselves apart soon enough. But while they're distracted, we'll make our move."
As Dante's body moved once again, it wasn't his own will behind it. The Trickster had already set things in motion, and the Sound God's presence was a quiet hum beneath the surface.
The Trickster's voice came again, more serious this time. "There's a god named Zerathis. A rival of mine, or so I've been told. He's locked away in a chamber at the divine household. He's been kept captive for some time, but we're going to change that. I've got a little plan, and you're going to help me carry it out."
Dante could feel the Trickster's wicked grin spreading across his face. "And you'll help me release Zerathis. You want to know why? Because once he's free, things are going to get a lot more interesting. But for now, we need to move carefully."
Dante frowned as the Trickster spoke of Zerathis, a god who had been locked away. The Trickster had been planning this for a long time, but why now? What had changed?
The Trickster laughed. "Because it's time, kid. And while we're at it, we'll cause a bit more chaos. Why not? The gods are already at each other's throats. You'll get a front-row seat to watch this mess unfold."
Dante gritted his teeth. He wasn't thrilled about being used again, but it was clear the Trickster had already set his course.
"What about when you're done? When do I get control again?" Dante asked, his voice strained.
"Oh, kid," the Trickster said with a chuckle. "You think you're going to get control back? Not so fast. We've got one more stop to make before we even think about that. But don't worry, I'll be in touch. I always am."
Dante wanted to argue, to demand control of his own body again, but he knew it was pointless. The Trickster was in full control now, and nothing he said would change that.
As the Trickster began to take action, Dante couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. The gods were falling into chaos, and the Trickster was right in the middle of it. And though he hated it, Dante knew he couldn't stop what was coming.
Dante felt the weight of the journey pressing down on him. They had managed to steal the artifacts, the ones that would stabilize his body and perhaps give them a better shot at controlling the chaos. The gods' confusion was still ringing in the air, like the last echo of a dying storm. But now, it was time for something even bigger: releasing Zerathis.
The Trickster, still fully in control of Dante's body, grinned from ear to ear. Dante could feel the familiar presence invade his mind again, but now, it wasn't just for chaos. The Trickster was in a rare mood, almost pleased with what they'd achieved.
"I told you, kid. It's all coming together," the Trickster's voice echoed in Dante's mind as they approached the chamber, the heavy door looming before them like a silent sentinel. "You've got to admit, I make things interesting."
Dante didn't respond. His eyes locked on the door, and despite his growing discomfort with the Trickster's methods, a small part of him was eager to see what would come next. The artifacts were in his possession, but this god—Zerathis—was the true prize. The Trickster had planned this for a long time, but what did he want from Zerathis?
With a casual flick of Dante's hand, the Trickster dismissed the guards that had been protecting the chamber, their presence no longer a problem. The air crackled with energy as the Trickster grinned.
"Let's go in, kid," the Trickster said. "It's showtime."
They stepped through the door, and the chamber lay before them. The room was dimly lit, a faint glow emanating from the walls. In the center of the room, locked in an ethereal prison, sat Zerathis. His form was obscured by chains made of some otherworldly metal, shimmering in a way that made it seem as though they were alive. The air around him vibrated with an oppressive, heavy silence.
Dante could feel the weight of the moment—the Trickster's glee, the tension in the air, and the growing realization that they were about to release someone who was, at best, a dangerous god. At worst, someone who would rival the Trickster.
"Zerathis," the Trickster's voice rang out, echoing through the chamber. "I've got an offer for you. You've been locked away for far too long, haven't you?"
Zerathis, his eyes glowing faintly, turned to face the sound of the voice. The chains rattled but didn't move, keeping him trapped in place. There was something about his presence—calm, unnerving, and full of potential power.
"You," Zerathis said, his voice calm and deep. "I didn't expect it to be you. I thought you had forgotten about me."
"Oh, I don't forget, kid," the Trickster said with a chuckle, stepping forward in Dante's body. "I just keep things interesting. You've been a little… tied up, haven't you?"
Zerathis' eyes narrowed, sensing the Trickster's intentions. "And why should I trust you, Trickster? Your schemes are notorious for leaving nothing but destruction in their wake."
The Trickster's grin widened, his voice dripping with amusement. "Well, you don't have to trust me. You just need to understand that you want to be free, and we need you to play a part in our little game. Help us, and I'll free you. But if you refuse... Well, you can stay here forever, rotting away."
Zerathis stared at him for a long moment, the silence in the room almost suffocating. Finally, his lips curled into a wry smile.
"I don't need to be free for you to achieve your goals. I'm not here for your petty tricks, Trickster. But I'll play along—for now. What do you want me to do?"
The Trickster grinned, clearly pleased. "That's the spirit. You'll pretend to be someone you're not. Someone who's far more dangerous than you ever were. I need you to impersonate Zephren—the god who's been stirring up even more chaos among the gods. We'll use his identity to make sure the others stay distracted while we handle our business."
Zerathis' eyes flashed with recognition. "Zephren? You really think I can pull that off?"
"Oh, I know you can," the Trickster said, his tone full of confidence. "All you need to do is keep the gods guessing. Keep them arguing, keep them fighting. You'll be a ghost in their midst, and while they're focused on you, we'll get what we came for."
Zerathis considered this for a moment. "And when this is over? What's in it for me?"
The Trickster's grin widened. "Once the chaos is done, you can do whatever you want. But the deal is simple—help us now, and I'll set you free."
Zerathis looked at the Trickster for a long while, measuring the situation. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. You've got a deal. But remember this, Trickster. I'm not your puppet. I'll do as you ask, but don't think I won't have my own plans once I'm out."
The Trickster laughed, clearly unbothered. "Wouldn't dream of controlling you, kid. But just to be safe…" With a flick of Dante's wrist, the chains binding Zerathis shattered, releasing him from his ethereal prison.
Zerathis stretched, his body radiating power as the chains fell to the ground in a clatter of broken links. The air seemed to shift around him as though the very fabric of reality was bending to his presence.
The Trickster nodded, pleased with his work. "You're free. Now, it's time for you to get to work."
Zerathis stood tall, and with a wave of his hand, he shifted into a new form. The Trickster made sure to alter the appearance to match Zephren's, changing his features, his aura, and even his voice to mimic the god they needed. It wasn't perfect, but it would fool the others for now.
Zerathis looked at his new form, then glanced back at the Trickster with a smirk. "Stuck in another person's flesh, again. At least this one doesn't smell like burnt rat."
The Trickster chuckled darkly. "You'll get used to it."
Before Zerathis could respond, the Trickster's grin returned. He snapped his fingers, and with a swirl of energy, a portal opened, carrying the Trickster away from the chamber and leaving Dante behind.
But in an instant, Dante felt the Trickster's presence leave him entirely, replaced by a sudden, unnerving calm. Dante was alone in the room, but it was brief. The Trickster reappeared at the top of a volcano, standing tall against the backdrop of flowing lava. He held the artifact they had stolen—glowing with an otherworldly power, pulsing in his hand like it was alive.
The Trickster's voice echoed in Dante's mind, sharp and full of satisfaction. "I told you it was all part of the plan, kid. Now we've got what we need. Let the gods tear each other apart while we make our next move."
Dante stood there, watching the Trickster at the top of the volcano, holding the artifact. He couldn't help but feel the weight of what was to come. They had just freed a god who was more dangerous than the Trickster had let on, and now, with the gods in disarray, there was no telling what would happen next.
"Ready for the next part, kid?" the Trickster asked, the grin audible in his voice.
Dante wasn't so sure. But one thing was clear: this was far from over. The gods were about to face a storm, and Dante was right in the middle of it.
The Trickster dropped the artifact into the volcano, and so the volcano erupted, just like his devious smile.