Fantasia: I Am the Dungeon

Beneath a broad-crowned apple tree set upon a golden grassy hill and clouds, sits cross-legged a figure whose eternally furrowed brow is not enough to blur his beautiful face. The angel's stern eyes possess an electric blue glow, and his hair is like dull silver. God created him from the same matter with which shaped hurricanes and storms. The suit and tie he wears are light blue, impeccably, in sync with the strictness of the wearer's appearance.

The object Ramiel studies so intently is an old wooden abacus that he holds firmly in his hands, beads swollen with light and color whose vision would turn the mortal's eyes to dust. But Ramiel acts as if he is incapable of recognizing the beauty of the beads, and continues to move them with speed and noise, trying unsuccessfully to figure out what is wrong, to such an extent that becomes frustrated and runs a hand over his head, messing up his hair.

"Still with that?" asks a soft voice.

Ramiel looks back to find a slender woman, purple lipstick, black evening dress with bare shoulders, and high stiletto heels. The girl's short hair is blacker than the dark universal void, and while her smile may be the most pious in existence, it is the kind of mercy that many would run from without thinking.

"Azrael, this is not your problem” Ramiel says in a firm tone and returns to his task.

Azrael takes off her heels, ends up on knees behind the accountant's back and slips her arms around him, looking at the abacus as well.

"Have you thought about just letting it go? Why do you have to be so stubborn? -She asks as if they haven't had that conversation a million times already"

"We've had this conversation 10,464,698 times already and we haven't come to any consensus. You're wasting my time"

"The 10 464 699th time will be the lucky one"

Ramiel snorts and shakes his head. Azrael also begins to scan the various beads, more from curiosity than any real desire to help. Contributing would be pointless when they both hold different philosophies regarding God's creation.

Ramiel is a determinist, for him creation is a chain, a sequence of cause and reaction, from point A, to point B, to point Z, and with a suitable and powerful tool like that abacus in his hands, is able to know the origin and the end of all things. And wielding a mathematical judgment, to decree whether a soul must transcend, reincarnate, or purify itself between infernal punishments... In such perpetuity of results Ramiel finds divine perfection.

Azrael, on the other hand, is a stochastic, for her God's perfection is not in a grid system where all the pieces fit and the dominoes always end in one place. She recognizes randomness and the obtaining of unforeseen results, and also the beauty of the spontaneous. Azrael is faithful to free will.

"Maybe you were wrong and there is no mistake, think about it” Azrael says in her companion's ear.

"I know what I'm doing. Someone messed up the math, and even if it takes me a thousand centuries I will find out who it was and rectify this heresy,” Ramiel's firm tone makes it clear that he is not joking. "Hmm...?"

The accountant's attention is drawn to a specific bead. Sharpening his gaze, he leans in for a closer look. Glimpses Fantasia, as he delves deeper into the stardust, Ramiel sees a world of kingdoms and magics. Before he can sharpen his assessment, Azrael taps him on the shoulder to get his attention and points to a different bead.

"That looks problematic” Azrael says.

Ramiel brings his attention to the bead Azrael points to and forgets about Fantasia. From the other galaxy located in the abacus corner, colossal spaceships are seen emerging, with energy drills and antimatter engines destined to tear through reality itself to explore new horizons. A galaxy of a single faction that has reached its maximum potential, and now prepares to surpass the limits set by creation, carrying with it armies capable of turning planets into pebbles.

Ramiel grunts inwardly and carefully unclips a stick from the abacus, then pulls out the troublesome bead and, holding in his right palm, brings it close to his disgruntled face. Ramiel squeezes the hand until a cracking sound is heard. Dust falls between his fingers.

The accountant adjusts the abacus and continues with the math. Azrael gets bored and leaves.