The Extra Wants Control

Chapter 92: Wages of Sin

The white room pressed in on me, suffocating in its sterile perfection. The five figures loomed before me, shadows twisting in their robes. They called Axl, the arrogant bastard, "their chosen"? My stomach churned. So I automatically deduced they were the Gods or at least their representatives.

"Your Name," one commanded, the voice echoing like a chorus in the empty space. My name tripped off my tongue, "Neveah Isolde." Why should they care even about my name, I thought.

This wasn't some courtroom; so maybe asking my name it was a power play, to intimidate and I was the fly caught in the spider's web.

"Give me your reason for trying to kill the dragon chosen," another figure spoke, their voice feminine and unnervingly calm.

"Self-defense," I said back, as calmly as I can.

"Self-defense..." they echoed, drawing out the word. It felt more like an accusation than a question. "Elaborate."

I took a steadying breath. "They attacked me, the blessed. Multiple of them, with no warning, no explanation. They wanted me dead." My voice sounded hollow and robotic even to my own ears.

"Hmmm..." another voice hummed, the sound like distant thunder. "But you brutally disarmed them, rendering them defenseless that should be enough.

And even in the final moment, you spared the human blessed's life, despite his clear hostility. Yet, you attempted to kill the dragon chosen. Explain."

"The rest were manipulated," I snarled, each word laced with venom. "They saw their fellow 'chosen' being attacked and reacted without question. Prejudice or not, they were the aggressors, not me." My eyes darted between the shrouded figures, frustration growing with each silent response. Then my head was made to bow to look down.

" Know you place child." Said the calm voice again.

I knew my place, I just wanted to see the face of god.

Them one of the figures hummed, the sound like distant thunder rolling through the room. "Perhaps," it conceded. "But even the dragon, the blessed you claim instigated this, is a blessed and that doesn't change the fact that you, a nobody, tried to kill him. You are aware how important they are, aren't you?"

" You should have just put your head down and accept it like the insignificant vampire filth you are." Said a voice without even trying to hide their malice.

My jaw clenched. "Maybe," I said with a sigh. "But the whole situation got to this because of him. He should be held accountable, no?"

A collective sigh, swept through the room. "We don't care about blame, boy," another figure intoned. The voice, devoid of emotion, sent a shiver down my spine. "We care about truth. And your justifications reek of self-serving bias. So what if your life was in danger, such is the life of mortals.

You should have disarmed him cause you had the ability mad calmly resolve your differences. What you did, what you tried to do was inexcusable!"

Before I could retort, a wave of searing pain ripped through me. A golden whip, materialized out of thin air, lashed across my face, the searing energy stripping the flesh from my cheekbone all the way down to my sternum. A groan tore from my throat, choked back into a ragged gasp as the white light dimmed, replaced by an agonizing blackness.

This wasn't a trial. It was a torture chamber. These weren't goddesses or their representatives. They were playing as something far worse – judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into one. And they weren't interested in the truth. They had their narrative, and they would break me until I conformed to it.

So I'm here for punishment for attempting to lay my hands on a chosen, I thought.

"Correct," boomed a voice that echoed in the white room, seemingly coming from all directions at once. "You will be punished. Your decision to kill a blessed was immature, reckless, and… out of jealousy."

Jealousy? The accusation hit me like a physical blow. Me? Jealous of a pompous, power-hungry bratty dragon prince? No way!

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words died in my throat as another figure materialized before me. It was still shrouded like the others, but instead of a humanoid figure, it transformed into a colossal dragon. I didn't look at it I just saw the shadow on the ground. It roared, the sound shaking the very foundation of the room.

"Impudent brat!" it boomed, its voice shaking my very core. The sheer power emanating from the creature was suffocating. Seemed it read my mind.

Then, from the side came a different voice, this one shrouded but somehow holding a seductive quality.

"My, my," it purred, almost flirtatious. "She's mad now."

The dragon ignored the comment, focusing solely on me. "The wage of sin against the divine is death!" it declared.

My blood ran cold. Death? Well it was expected wasn't it?

The room began to constrict, the white walls pushing inwards, the pressure building, tge figures seemed to be in the same room as I was yet they weren't even here. My face hit the floor with a sickening thud, the air knocked from my lungs.

My body felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, bones grinding against each other, cracking, my organs pressing against it other, my heart trying to beat with all it's might against the pressure around it, struggling but failing, blood flowing from every orifice. O couldn't move anypart of my body my head felt heavy and I began sweating under the pressure. I couldn't even take in air.

It was suffocating

But amidst the crushing pain, something strange happened. A tingling sensation spread through my body, an energy I couldn't quite place. My gravity manipulation, dormant since the fight, began to surge, an unconscious reaction to the crushing weight. It wasn't enough to counter the force, but it… it fought back? The pressure lessened ever so slightly, just enough for me to draw a ragged breath.

And my proficiency was rising?

What? How? This didn't make sense. They were trying to crush me, yet my own power, in this desperate struggle, was somehow resisting. Maybe it was a last-ditch effort, a survival instinct kicking in, or maybe… maybe there was a connection between this strange punishment and my unique magic. But why haven't they noticed.

Or maybe they don't even care. The same way a grasshopper tries to push away a predator when it's caught using it's legs but being unable to get away. It was futile attempt. And they weren't the least bit bothered by it.

A sliver of hope, fragile as a spider's thread, sparked within me. They wanted to break me, but perhaps, just perhaps, I could turn this against them. It was a long shot, yes, but it was the only shot I had. Focusing all my remaining energy, I channeled my gravity manipulation outwards, pushing against the invisible force that sought to crush me.

It was a struggle, a battle against an overwhelming force, but for the first time since they brought me here, I wasn't just a victim. I was fighting back, it was a pathetic attempt, yes. But this time I won't just lay here and wait for my death.

Even if I die. Atleast I could say I tried to fight back especially against god's might. It was a flex.

***********

[Third person PoV]

The white room resonated with a heavy silence. Neveah lay crumpled on the floor, his body a testament to the brutal power unleashed upon him. His ragged breaths were the only sound that dared to pierce the tension.

"All in favor of the vote," boomed the voice of the dragon-shaped figure, its words echoing in the sterile space. The vote was for his death.

A soft chime, almost musical, filled the room. It was followed by a sigh, light and almost amused. "I veto him to be kept alive," it declared.

The dragon figure, its form shimmering with righteous fury, roared in outrage. "What?! He is blasphemous! He attacked a blessed! My blessed!" It was undoubtedly the Dragon Goddess, her voice heavy with disapproval.

"As he said," countered another figure, its voice devoid of emotion but laced with a hint of amusement, "It's not his fault that the blessed are disappointing. And he just wanted to protect his life. Also we are pushing it. We have limits and in this decade alone, we interfered with the mortals and their realm more than we interfered for the past dozen millennia."

"I don't accept this!" roared the Dragon Goddess. "I veto your veto. I want this brat dead! This was a great humiliation not only to the dragons but also a slap in the face to me. Screw the rules. I'll bear the punishment."

Another figure spoke, its voice calm and collected but very chilling, a stark contrast to the escalating tension. "It doesn't work like that. A veto can only be used once in a meeting. The rest are obsolete else veto power is meaningless. And you being able to take the punishment isn't a problem, the problem is what comes after, inspection and observation, our freedom will be limited.

And I won't jeopardize my freedom so that you can kill some brat to satiate your rage."

The Dragon Goddess, her form shrinking with frustration, muttered a disgruntled, "Tsk... Do whatever you want."

A wave of unseen pressure lifted off Neveah. He gasped, sucking in a deep breath that sent a fresh wave of agony through his shattered body. His wounds, however, remained unhealed, a stark reminder of their power.

The air crackled with a tension that was different from before. The earlier aggression had been replaced by an air of… calculation.

"Still, he must be punished," declared the calm voice that had lifted the pressure.