The Leviathan roared, its four heads snapping at the deck of the ship. Lucian planted his cane, his eyes glowing blue as he prepared to unleash the Event Horizon.
And then... pause.
The world didn't turn white this time. It turned beige.
The sound of the ocean cut out. The smell of blood and salt vanished, replaced by the smell of… cheap coffee and drywall?
Lucian blinked. He was no longer on the ship. He was standing in a brightly lit, cramped waiting room. There were plastic chairs lined against the wall and a water cooler bubbling in the corner.
He wasn't alone.
To his left, Arthur was already curled up on three plastic chairs, snoring loudly, having instantly fallen asleep the moment he arrived.
To his right, Seraphim was inspecting his reflection in the darkened screen of a vending machine, fixing a strand of silver hair that was already perfect.
"What is this?" Lucian demanded, tapping his cane nervously on the linoleum floor. "Another Cenotaph? It smells terrible."
"Worse," a deep, burning voice growled from the corner.
Lucian turned to see Raphael Azarias, fully armored, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. The heat haze around him was warping the motivational posters stapled to the wall.
Next to Raphael stood his brothers. Michael was standing stiffly, blindfold in place, looking confused. Samael was sitting on the floor, looking utterly bored with existence.
Even the King was here. Charles IV was nervously adjusting his crown, looking around wildly. "Who authorized this assembly? I demand to speak to the manager of this reality!"
"Settle down, Your Majesty," a smooth voice called out.
The door to the room opened, and Azrael Aziz walked in, holding a clipboard and wearing a party hat that looked ridiculous on him.
"Welcome," Azrael smiled, his crimson eyes twinkling. "To the Intermission. The Author needed everyone in one frame for a moment."
"The Author?" Raphael scoffed, smoke rising from his shoulders. "Another false god trying to control me?"
"Something like that," Azrael checked his clipboard. "Alright, listen up, you lot. We have an announcement from 'The Management'."
Azrael cleared his throat and began to read from the clipboard.
"First off, a massive THANK YOU to everyone reading. We just hit almost 50,000 views! The support has been incredible."
Seraphim clapped politely. "Fifty thousand eyes admiring me? Wonderful."
Arthur snored loudly in response.
Azrael continued reading. "Secondly, a sincere apology regarding the update schedule. The Author is busy with real-life nonsense, and their health hasn't been great lately. Writing constantly has been tough. They ask for your patience."
"Weakness," Raphael spat. "Sickness is just an excuse for the inefficient."
"We can't all burn our problems away, Raphael," Lucian retorted coldly.
"Silence, children," Azrael interrupted. "There's one last thing."
Azrael paused for dramatic effect.
"We are almost at the end of Volume 1."
Lucian let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Finally. This Leviathan fight was dragging on."
King Charles looked relieved. "Excellent. Perhaps the next volume will feature more appreciation for my rule."
Azrael grinned, flipping the page on his clipboard.
"...Just kidding. We are not. lol."
The room went dead silent.
Raphael's flames flared up, nearly setting off the smoke alarm. "Is this a joke?"
"You guys thought Volume 1 was going to end on just 40 chapters? No, no. You guys are wrong. This will be a long-ass volume."
Azrael shrugged. "If I feel like it."
Arthur woke up just long enough to groan, "More work? Ugh..." before passing out again.
"Well," Azrael tossed the clipboard aside. "You heard the boss. Back to work, everyone. Lucian, try not to die to that big snake. Raphael, try not to burn down the set."
Before Lucian could protest, the beige room vanished.
The smell of salt and blood returned instantly. The Leviathan was roaring right in his face.
Lucian sighed, gripping his silver cane tight.
"Long-ass volume, huh? Let's get on with it then."