"Wait, those eyes, it bears the mark of the chosen," the first voice commented, a mix of pride and satisfaction tainting his tone.

"Indeed it does," the older man responded, though his tone was more contemplative... reserved.

"And its features, they seem..." the first voice added before trailing off.

"It seems it might have one of Venus's Graces," the older man finished.

Havon had only just recovered from the dull pain that had been clawing at his chest and began to take in his surroundings. He found himself perched atop a cold stone altar, within a room bathed in a faint crimson glow.

The walls of this marble prison were adorned with an array of odd inscriptions. Though they did not carry nearly as much ominous weight as the occult slab he had dealt with earlier.

After assessing his body, he rose from the altar, taking a quick glance at the two men before stumbling towards what appeared to be the exit.

He stood at least three heads above them, and they weren't short by any means. If Havon had to guess, he was probably 2.3 meters at minimum, a sign that the humans of this world were somewhat different from those on Earth.

"Brunetto, do you see this? What sort of summoned soul walks around mere moments after awakening?" the younger of the duo asked. He was a white-haired man probably in his mid-thirties, draped in a black regalia that looked to be an advanced nightmarish version of a military uniform.

"Where is the exit?" Havon asked, realizing that what he had mistaken for an exit was, in fact, just another inscription.

The two men continued conversing with each other, not bothering to even look at Havon.

"What is this?" Havon whispered to himself as he got closer to the obsidian walls.

They rippled constantly, almost as if the stone itself were alive, a river of energy flowing beneath it. And under this crimson lighting, it seemed akin to a pool of blood.

Still, it was just clear enough for him to make out his reflection past all the inscriptions.

He was now in the body of a white-haired man, perhaps early twenties, with radiant crimson eyes. No doubt what the others had referred to as '𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒏.' 

Strangely enough, it seemed that this body was even more captivating than his last, its face indiscernible from that of an angel's. In fact, even Havon, who had no interest in such matters, could not help but stare at his reflection for a while.

"What are its 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔?" the younger man asked as Havon inspected his new form on the obsidian walls.

Brunetto struck his staff gently onto the ground, flinging red particles into the air from the crimson gemstone nestled atop the staff.

He whispered something, and the particles began to arrange themselves into glowing words that floated right in front of him.

Havon stopped what he was doing, his attention drawn to the arcane spectacle unfolding before him.

An excited smile crept across his face as he stared at the floating words.

~So it's confirmed, the humans of this world can use magic. And based on the current events, there's no doubt that I'll soon have access to it as well,~ he thought to himself, as he stared deeply at the staff in Brunetto's hands.

"Ho, it seems the Moros family might have a new champion," Brunetto mumbled to himself. However, these words which should've been filled with delight were instead drenched in troubled uncertainty.

"A new champion? Are you saying its 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 are better than Dante's?" the younger man asked. 

To which Brunetto remained quiet in deep thought.

"Well, come on now, we haven't much time. They will soon collect him for the testing grounds, we need to make it known if he is to be placed among the special ranks," the younger man said impatiently as he stared at the floating crimson words in front of Brunetto.

However, based on his strained expression, it was clear that he could not understand the strange texts.

"It has three 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔—all of them ranked divine," Brunetto said finally.

A heavy silence lingered, the younger man's impatience was suddenly replaced by disbelief. And the two men turned to look at Havon, who in turn met their gaze with an unsettling confidence.

~I have no idea what they're talking about, but it's plain to see that I'm special. It seems Zlexay has kept his end of the bargain,~ Havon thought to himself.

However, in such situations, he knew it would be better to feign ignorance, lest they see him as too much of a threat.

Something he wouldn't have minded, had he known exactly what sort of powers he had, and how to use them. But that would come with time, no doubt.

"What is this place?" Havon asked instead. However, all that he was met with were shadowy expressions on the men's faces. 

"Tell me, which divine 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 are they?" the younger man asked, still staring at Havon warily.

"It has the mark of the chosen. The mark of Venus. And... this is strange," Brunetto muttered, his contemplation deepening.

Havon attempted to approach, however, the younger man reached for something at the waist of his regalia, and Havon understood his position.

"What? What's the final Grace?" the younger man asked, holding his hand out in a halting gesture as he stared at Havon.

"It speaks of the Curse of Deluded Fantasia... A cursed grace, it's unusual ... I've never heard of such a thing," Brunetto replied.

As Brunetto was talking, an army of footsteps could be heard approaching from outside. Havon was on high alert, suddenly aware that he was completely naked, without anything to defend himself.

However, the rather calm demeanour of the two men in front of him made him aware that whoever was approaching was likely not a threat.

"Moros 221 has been summoned to the testing grounds," a voice spoke up from somewhere behind the walls. 

The three men stared at each other in silence for a moment, Havon wondering what exactly was going on, whilst the other two seemed to be silently voicing their suspicions of each other.

"We should send it to the House Executives. To send a specimen like this to the testing grounds is treason," the younger of the two said.

"No... something isn't right here. We used a common peasant from the undercity as a template, and the soul essence we used was of no special origin either, then why is an awakened with three 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔, all divine non-theless standing in front of us?" Brunetto asked, now regarding Havon.

"And that's why it is imperative we report this to the House Executives, at the very least Don Arguero should know about this before we send it to the grounds," the younger man replied, however Brunetto shook his head in disagreement.

"In the current state of things, false hope like this is a poison. For all we know, it could be the work of a horror, the beacons have already lost enough power for the stronger horrors to play such tricks," Brunetto began mumbling.

"Conte Brunetto? Is everything okay in there?" a voice called from outside the walls, followed by the sounds of weapons slowly being drawn.

Brunetto glanced towards the source of the voice, his expression tense.

"Brunetto, decisions like these aren't yours to make. You're no longer an executive," the younger man whispered, though his body language did not show any attempt to retaliate.

"If this creature really is a Moros, then it will pass the trials of the testing grounds," Brunetto said with finality, before tapping his staff on the ground. With that, an entire section of the wall wobbled out of existence, and a group of large men donned in odd-looking armour came into view.

~Crusaders?~ Havon wondered to himself as one of the armoured men stepped forward.

They stared at each other for a moment. The crusader-looking warrior only one head shorter than him.

A moment later, he noticed the man's hand coming towards him and moved out of the way with the practised movements of a fencing champion.

This new vessel of his seemed to be even more refined than his former, allowing him to move faster than he could've ever imagined.

Everyone looked on in confusion for a moment, before Brunetto shook his head.

"There is no way this thing isn't some trickery from the horrors," he whispered to himself, before tapping his staff on the ground.

With that, purple particles rushed towards Havon's face, and before he could react, he found his consciousness slipping away from him.

~This is... interesting,~ he thought, as the world went black.