"Now what should I do with you, human."

Luke stared at him, eyes wide, jaw slack. His body was wrapped tight in coarse jungle vines, their rasp against his skin sending jolts of discomfort. The scent of damp earth and crushed leaves clung to him.

The man—no, the being—stood tall and impossible. He wore a robe the shade of molten obsidian, threaded with glints of gold shaped like serpents and eclipses. The fabric flowed like smoke, wrapping around his hips and shoulder, effortless, regal, exposing the carved lines of his torso like marble left to weather under storms. His hair, long and raven-black, was tied high and back with a cord of leather and gold. Not a strand out of place. Not a thing about him out of control.

When he landed—hovering just moments before—Luke had felt the tremor in the ground. And now that they stood close, the difference between them hit hard.

Luke was tall. But this man was massive.

“I—I don’t believe it,” Luke muttered, more to himself than anything. “This is a dream. A nightmare. Just a really twisted nightmare.”

The man gave him a look, ego laced into every inch of his face. “Are you naïve, or just stupid? You were about to be eaten alive, and now you think this is all some dream?”

Luke’s lips parted in shock. “Who the hell are you calling stupid, you freak?!”

The moment the words left his mouth, everything shifted. In a blink, the being appeared right in front of him—no sound, no warning. His large hand clamped around Luke’s chin and cheeks, firm and unrelenting.

“You don’t seem to understand your status, human,” he said, voice like thunder rumbling beneath the surface. “I could snap your neck and trap your soul in an abyss so deep, not even time would remember you. I could erase you. Here. Now.”

Luke’s breath hitched. Fear ran through him in waves, but he forced himself to speak. “L-look... just let me go. I’ll leave. I’ll go back to... wherever I came from, and I won’t bother anyone, I swear—”

“...You’ll what, exactly?” The deity’s tone was flat, indifferent. His golden eyes burned straight through Luke.

Luke swallowed hard. He knew. Mythos wasn’t going to let him go. Not without taking something first.

“And besides,” the man added, voice dark with amusement, “do you really think I’d let you go? I’m... bored.” That devil’s smirk crept across his lips, slow and deadly.

Luke gulped, voice shaking. “W-wait! I’ll—” He struggled for something, anything, a bribe for his life. “I’ll do anything!”

The words left him before he could stop them, raw and desperate. But even as they did, his fists clenched. His jaw locked tight. He lifted his chin, barely, but enough to hold the deity’s gaze. Enough to show that he wasn’t going to collapse entirely.

He was terrified. But there was something else stirring in his chest. A flicker of stubborn fire behind the panic.

Mythos didn’t miss it.

He stared at the human in front of him—quivering, bound, clearly outmatched—but still managing to look at him without breaking.

His expression shifted, just slightly—interest, maybe. Power flickered behind his eyes.

Mythos tilted his head, studying him. There was something like amusement dancing in his gaze. “Interesting,” he murmured. “So weak. So helpless. And yet... you look at me like that.”

He moved closer. Shadows crawled across his features. “What is your name, little human?”

Luke hesitated. His throat was dry. “...Luke.”

“Anything, Luke?” Mythos stepped forward again, voice low and smooth. “Are you sure?”

Luke didn’t answer. He just nodded, stiffly, knowing it didn’t matter either way.

The deity laughed. A low, unsettling sound that seemed to echo around them.

“I’ll give you a little tip,” Mythos said. He leaned in close—forehead pressed to Luke’s, eyes locked. “Never bargain with a devil.”

Luke gasped when the vines loosened. Relief hit him like a wave—until he felt something new. Thick vines slithered up his legs, slow and deliberate, slick with something that clung to his skin.

“There’s something you can do for me,” Mythos said.

Luke’s eyes darted to the vines—watching them curl, tighten, coat his skin in slime. One of the vine tips split open like a mouth, drooling green liquid.

He thrashed. “W-what the hell—?!”

The deity grinned. “Why don’t you pleasure me... and become my bride?”

Luke whipped his head toward him. “What?! Are you insane?! I—I’m a guy! You can’t be serious!”

Mythos blinked slowly. “And? It's all... flesh. I take what I want, in whatever form it comes.”

Luke stared in disbelief. His gut twisted. One wrong move. One wrong word.

“I—wait! I take it back! I didn’t mean it!” He shouted, panic crawling up his throat. “Just let me go!”

But Mythos was already brushing his fingers along his cheek, slow and gentle.

Luke flinched away from his touch, voice sharp. “Don’t touch me!”

“Now, now,” the god said with mock patience. “I won’t hurt you. Though...” A dark smile bloomed across his face. “They do say the first time always hurts.”

Luke’s face went red. “Fuck you! Over my dead body!”

The god laughed. Full and shameless. “Gladly. Though I prefer you alive for it.”

Luke screamed, struggling against the vines as the slimy tendrils slithered higher.

“Don’t worry,” Mythos whispered, his breath hot against Luke’s ear, “I’ll make sure you enjoy every moment of it.”