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DIABLO IN THE DEN
1
VIOLET
The dimly lit hallways of the Prize Pool buzzed with an eerie silence.
At regular intervals, platforms emerged from the floor, each carrying a beautiful female from some corner of the universe.
Each of us, a “Prize,” stood waiting, a mere commodity in this twisted game of claim and ownership.
The walls around me shimmered, translucent but solid.
Beyond them, the vast emptiness of space seemed to taunt us with its boundless freedom.
I looked around, taking in the sight of the other females.
Some stood with pride, their postures defiant, while others looked broken, their spirits seemingly crushed under the weight of their plight.
I had been here for two days.
Two days since my pleasant jog down empty country roads had turned into a nightmare.
The last thing I remembered before the blackout was the peculiar sight of the sky darkening rapidly, like ink spilled in water.
When I woke, I was here, in this alien environment, stripped of my freedom and identity.
Each day brought a new set of Champions, monstrous beings from the dark recesses of the universe, looking for a Prize to Claim.
They would saunter in, their steps echoing the cruel power they held, eyes scanning each platform with a predatory intensity.
Today was no different.
The grand doors of the Prize Pool opened, announcing the arrival of the latest Champion.
A hushed murmur spread among the females.
This wasn’t just any Champion.
This was one that even the bravest among us hoped would not set their eyes upon them.
Towering over most other prisoners, he was a monstrous sight.
Scales, as dark as the void of space, covered his body.
Six bulbous eyes scanned the room, each eye reflecting a different shade of malice.
His mouth, if you could call it that, was a gaping maw of sharp, gleaming teeth.
But it was his reputation that preceded him — whispers of the cruel and unusual ways he treated the ones he Claimed.
As he stepped closer, a chill enveloped the room, the temperature dropping rapidly.
The atmosphere grew thick with tension, each of us hoping that we would go unnoticed.
Beside me, a young girl from Nebula 6 whispered to herself in an endless mantra:
“By the stars, please let him pass. Not me. Not today.”
