I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!

The oppressive void of the Ninth Realm seemed heavier, thicker, as Hell sat frozen on his crimson throne, his mind racing with disbelief. The words of Morrathis lingered in the air like echoes of a revelation too vast to comprehend.

A mortal—a seemingly insignificant being—had defied all conventions. Not only had his soul remained intact despite being suppressed by Divinity, but it had absorbed that Divinity, and not just any Divinity—it bore the mark of a Creator.

It was unprecedented, utterly incomprehensible.

Even with his centuries of experience, Hell found himself at a loss. Normally, he would have dismissed such a notion as absurd, but the words had come from Morrathis herself—a being whose knowledge of souls eclipsed even his own.

The impossible became plausible in her presence, and he had no choice but to believe.

"That mortal's soul is one of a kind," Hell said finally, his voice carrying both awe and intrigue.

There was an unmistakable glint of fascination in his eyes now, and a new urge bloomed within him—a burning curiosity to examine the mortal's soul up close, to uncover its mysteries and understand its unprecedented nature.

Before Hell could indulge in his curiosity further, Morrathis's calm voice broke through his thoughts, carrying the weight of a quiet threat.

"It would be better if you don't try anything funny," she said, her tone steady and detached.

Hell's smirk faltered immediately as an icy chill ran down his spine. Though Morrathis's words were delivered calmly, he could see the truth beneath them.

His ability to perceive emotions showed him the swirling anger within her body—anger so massive and potent that it drowned out all other emotions.

'Does she truly care for a mortal?' Hell pondered, finding the notion absurd yet unable to dismiss it entirely.

To him, the idea of Morrathis, a being of boundless power and detachment, harboring any form of sentimentality for a mortal being was far more unbelievable than the revelation of the mortal's unique soul.

Despite his disbelief, the thought gnawed at the back of his mind.

"Do you have some kind of plans for him?" Hell asked. His tone was curious but edged with caution, as though he were treading on unstable ground.

"For now, just observe," Morrathis said, her words brief but purposeful.

Hell's eyes narrowed slightly, his intrigue only growing. He could sense no hints of anger or turmoil within her anymore, but her calmness together with the balance of emotions inside her unsettled him.

'Is she fond of him or not?' he thought, the uncertainty circling through his mind. He had spent millennia alongside Morrathis yet found himself utterly incapable of predicting her motives this time.

"Why?" Hell pressed, his curiosity overriding his caution. He couldn't fathom what was stopping Morrathis from acting, especially when her power was unparalleled and her will typically unshaken.

Morrathis remained silent, her gaze still fixed on her hand as though she could find the answers there. The truth was far more complex than Hell could have imagined.

Unbeknownst to him, the Soul Bond she shared with Ashok had fundamentally altered her relationship with her own power. Her divinity, which could obliterate realms in the blink of an eye, would no longer harm Ashok.

A bond that protected a mere mortal from her omnipotence—it was a revelation that, for Morrathis, was almost intolerable. The idea of revealing this fact to Hell would have been nothing short of a blow to her pride.

However instead of answering Hell's question Morrathis said something entirely different

"I didn't sense it at first because my Domain exists outside the constructs of Space and Time. But after being summoned by him, I can say for certain—the flow of Time within the Three Realms has been tampered with."

Her words fell like a hammer, and Hell froze for a moment. The gravity of her statement hit him like a tidal wave. For an eternal being who thrived on control and balance within chaos, this revelation shook him to his core.

His crimson eyes widened, and without hesitation, he rose from his jagged red throne. His wings flared slightly, their leathery texture catching the faint crimson light of the stagnant red moon overhead. This was no time to sit.

The implication of tampered time was catastrophic. If the natural flow of Time had been disturbed, it meant that the God of Time and the God of Space, who had long maintained neutrality, were no longer impartial.

For eons, the balance of power between the realms had been balanced in a steep rope.

This change signified a seismic shift in cosmic politics—one that could tilt the scales in favor of the Heavens. To Hell, it was a revelation that screamed disaster.

Should the balance be broken, the Heavens could easily hold the upper hand against the Realm of Hell, potentially leading to his own annihilation.

Hell's unease erupted into urgency. His hands clenched tightly, and he muttered under his breath, "This could destroy everything…"

Without sparing another glance at Morrathis, whose unshaken demeanor only underscored her detachment from the chaos brewing around her, he prepared to act.

His entire being now thrummed with the need for action.

"I need to speak with the Sins," Hell said sharply, his voice filled with rare tension.

"Sit down," Morrathis said, her voice commanding yet calm.

Hell, who had already risen from his jagged red throne and begun to retreat into the void, paused mid-step. He turned, his bat-like wings twitching faintly as he regarded her with an expression of confusion.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, his voice cautious, clearly caught off guard by her sudden directive.

Morrathis, unmoving as ever, tilted her head slightly, her piercing black gaze fixed on him. "What are emotions?" she asked.

"…"

Hell stared at her silently, his crimson eyes narrowing as he saw her waiting for his answer.

After a moment, Hell spoke, "What does that have to do with the tampered flow of Time?"

"He said to ask about emotions from you and that you would explain them better than he could," Morrathis said.

Hell's crimson eyes blinked in surprise, his wings twitching slightly. "Can't we do this later? My existence is... kind of on the line," he replied hastily, his nervous energy betraying his urgency as he turned, ready to retreat back into the abyss.

But he only made it a step before Morrathis's voice rang out once more, this time commanding and unyielding.

"Sit Down," she ordered, her Divine Tongue resonating with such immense power that Hell's body moved against his will. He found himself back on his throne, his limbs rigid as if controlled by invisible strings.

He clenched the armrests of the throne tightly, sweat dripping from his brow as he processed the unavoidable reality of the situation.

Morrathis's next words carried the weight of inevitability. "You shall not leave without answering my questions," she declared, her corrupted mist beginning to ripple outward from her body.

The mist, born of her divine power, swirled ominously around Hell, coiling like a predator. Its oppressive energy emanated a silent warning—anything it touched would rot, decay, and disintegrate in mere nanoseconds.

The mist's deadly presence surrounded Hell, its proximity ensuring his compliance.

Hell nodded quickly, his movements stiff and almost mechanical, as if he were a puppet bound to her will. "Y-yes... of course," he murmured, his voice almost indistinguishable in the suffocating silence of the realm.

For all his ancient authority as the Father of Seven Sins, Hell was reduced to a fragile form under the weight of Morrathis's indomitable power.

With Hell nodding like a chicken, the corrupted mist retreated back into her body as she reassured Hell, her words carrying an unsettling certainty.

"You don't need to worry. Until I am here, there won't be any immediate repercussions from Heaven. Now, answer my question. What are emotions?"

Hell, the Father of Seven Sins, sat still on his jagged red throne, the oppressive darkness of the realm pressing in around him. He dared not move, and sweat continued to bead on his brow.

Her demand left him deep in thought, his crimson eyes narrowing as he pondered how to respond. He understood the gravity of the moment—this wasn't a question to be brushed aside.

Morrathis, devoid of emotions for millennia, now sought understanding of something that had eluded her for all her existence. It was a question fraught with complexity and weight, and Hell knew better than to approach it carelessly.

To Hell, Morrathis seemed no different than a child experiencing emotions for the first time—an innocent yet dangerous curiosity stirred within her. Yet her power dwarfed all understanding, making any misstep potentially catastrophic.

As someone who embodied the intricate web of sins and desires, he had always thought of himself as a master of emotions. But explaining them to Morrathis felt like walking on the edge of a blade.

If he overcomplicated the explanation, he feared the Ninth Realm itself might cease to exist by day's end.

After deliberating carefully, he said, "Going by the book, emotions are simply feelings that derive from one's circumstances. However, based on my personal experience, I see emotions as nothing more than manifestations of our desires."

Morrathis listened intently, her stillness unbroken as his words echoed faintly through the void. After a moment of reflection, she responded, her tone even but commanding,

"Explain further."

Hell, nodded as he began his explanation.

"Emotions are the same for Gods as they are for Mortals. At their core, they are universal.

The Primal Emotions are Anger, Sadness, Happiness, Fear, Disgust, Surprise, and...

finally the one that stands from all the previous six Love. They…"

As he delved deeper into the nature of emotions, Hell's words grew more measured and deliberate, each sentence layered with meaning and designed to ensure Morrathis's understanding.

He discussed each emotion in detail, breaking down their essence, causes, and effects.

His voice echoed through the desolate realm, filling the oppressive silence with what soon became a slow and thorough lecture that didn't seem to end anytime soon.