The nameless manor

The galaxy swirled in an eternal, hypnotic dance of celestial bodies, its vastness stretching beyond mortal comprehension. Amidst the cosmic ballet, a lone figure lounged on a bed suspended in an endless void. Shade, draped in a loose black robe, lazily twirled an orb in his fingers, the shimmering sphere capturing glimpses of galaxies both near and distant. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he gazed at the shifting constellations within the orb.

"We may or may not get canceled over the next character," Shade mused aloud, his voice carrying a weight of amusement and resignation. "If we do, well, it was a hell of a run. If not... shit, let's keep pumping out more episodes." He smirked, tossing the orb into the air and catching it effortlessly.

Below him, sprawled across the floor, was a chaotic scene of war. Random, a small, impish figure, was fully engrossed in his latest masterpiece of destruction. Toy cars zoomed across the floor, crashing into each other as tiny soldiers stormed a makeshift fortress made of building blocks. A drone hovered above, capturing the carnage like a seasoned war journalist, its tiny blades whirring softly. The central villain of this grand battle? A plush squid, positioned atop a skyscraper of books, ruling over the city like an eldritch nightmare.

Shade watched the spectacle with mild amusement before clearing his throat.

"Alright, pay attention," he said, tapping the orb. "Let's talk about our next character—Lewis Davidson. His original name was Lewd—yeah, you'll figure out why soon enough. He's a prince from the deepest parts of the ocean, the son of a goddess, and, believe it or not, a damn good doctor."

Random didn't look up from his battlefield, too busy launching a toy tank at the plush squid's head. Shade continued.

"Now, if we were gonna slap a label on Lewis… he's an anti-hero. He kills, he protects, and as long as it aligns with his goals—well, his primary goal, really—he'll do whatever it takes." Shade's expression darkened for a moment before a deep red blush crept up his cheeks.

"His goal? Getting laid at any cost."

Random finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. "So… he's a pervy octo-doctor?"

Shade sighed, rubbing his temples. "Yeah, yeah, but he's not just that. Despite being a total horndog, he gives some damn good relationship advice. I mean, the guy could probably fix broken marriages if he cared to. But enough talk—Lewis is more of a 'show, don't tell' kind of character."

Before he could continue, Random picked up a small toy car and, with precise aim, chucked it straight at one of the four large display screens hovering in the void. The car bounced off the screen, and as if the universe itself recognized the signal, the image on the screen flickered before settling on a new scene.

"Alright," Shade announced, snapping his fingers. "Change scene to Heaven."

The screen faded to black.

Scene Change – The Gates of Heaven

Above the mortal plains, beyond the reach of time and space, existed a realm reserved for those deemed worthy—the celestial kingdom of Heaven.

The entrance was a grand sight to behold: massive gates forged from pure gold stood as an eternal barrier, gleaming under an ethereal light. Their towering presence commanded reverence, their intricate engravings shifting with a divine energy, telling the ever-changing story of existence. Those who possessed the right to enter—be they angels, deities, or the rare, fortunate mortals—would pass through without resistance, stepping onto the golden streets beyond.

The pathways within Heaven were unlike anything seen in the mortal world. Golden bricks paved the roads, yet they were unnaturally soft underfoot, providing a comfortable, almost cloud-like sensation. True clouds blanketed the landscape, sculpted into landmasses where celestial beings walked without concern. Angels, radiant and majestic, strolled leisurely, their serene faces untouched by worry. Mortal souls, blessed enough to reside here, marveled at the splendor of their eternal paradise.

One road in particular led through the district of angels' dwellings—a shortcut for those seeking passage to the divine realm of the gods. This sacred area was divided into countless sections, each one tailored to the preferences of the god or goddess it belonged to.

Standing atop a floating golden saucer was a towering figure—an angel of immense stature and unwavering authority. At eleven feet tall, his muscular frame was clad in ornate armor, every plate polished to an immaculate shine. His hair, dark as freshly roasted coffee beans, cascaded in perpetual motion as though caught in an invisible breeze. His skin was flawless, untouched by scars or imperfections, as though he had been sculpted by divinity itself. Piercing blue eyes, shimmering with an otherworldly glow, surveyed the realm with unwavering judgment.

This was Mike, the Ferryman of Heaven. His duty was simple: to transport those granted passage through the celestial realms.

A woman stood before him, her presence equally commanding in its own right. She was Venus, once the revered goddess of love, now merely a shadow of her former glory. Though she had lost her divine title, her beauty remained untouched by time. She stood at a graceful 5'10", her robes flowing in soft hues of light blue and pink, adorned with delicate golden chains and ruby heart-shaped jewels. Her golden hair cascaded in luminous waves, and her vibrant pink eyes shimmered with a mesmerizing glow, capable of ensnaring any mortal foolish enough to gaze too long.

She bent down, picking up a smooth stone from the ground, her fingers brushing over its surface thoughtfully.

"I will be visiting my son today, Mike," she said, her voice carrying both authority and a hint of maternal warmth.

Mike's expression remained stoic. "As much as it displeases me that such a being is allowed to exist in the heavenly realm, I shall take you to his dwelling, ex-goddess of love."

With a tap of his staff against the saucer, the divine transport surged forward, gliding effortlessly through the celestial expanse.

The Forbidden One's Domain

The saucer passed over a temple dedicated to Buddha, its serene aura untouched by the tension in the air. Mike's grip on his staff tightened as an uneasy feeling settled in his gut. Something—someone—was watching.

As they neared the grand temple of Zeus, Mike noted a gathering of gods, their expressions grim as they debated amongst themselves. There was unrest in the heavens, and even the most powerful deities were concerned.

Yet their journey did not stop there.

Beyond the pristine halls of gods and angels, past the sacred grounds of legendary figures, lay a realm that existed on the very edge of Heaven's tolerance.

A massive lake sprawled across the landscape, its surface impossibly still, reflecting the sky like a flawless mirror. Towering trees lined the edges, their branches stretching outward, casting long, soothing shadows over the water. It was beautiful—undeniably so—but it carried an air of isolation, as though the place itself had been cast aside, left untouched by the divine hands that shaped the rest of Heaven.

Mike brought the saucer to a halt.

"Welcome," he announced, his voice devoid of enthusiasm, "to the home of the so-called 'God of Love'—Lewis Davidson."

Venus stepped forward, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, dear. I won't be long. Care to wait for a bit?"

"For you, my lady, yes," Mike conceded. "But I will wait here."

With a graceful nod, Venus descended from the saucer, her robes flowing elegantly behind her. She approached the lake, kneeling by its edge as she skipped the stone across the water's surface.

Nine perfect bounces before it disappeared beneath the depths.

For a few moments, all was still.

Then, the water stirred.

Bubbles surged to the surface, breaking the lake's eerie stillness. A massive tentacle emerged, thick and covered in smooth, dark purple skin, its underside lined with suction cups of a pale ash-gray hue. It coiled around a nearby tree before pulling its owner upward.

The stillness shattered as a towering splash erupted from the water.

Rising from the depths was Lewis Davidson.

Standing at 6'9", his upper body bore the lean, muscular build of a warrior, his skin a striking shade of ashen gray. His platinum-white hair clung to his damp form, cascading past his shoulders. But where a man's legs should have been, fifteen writhing tentacles extended from his waist, shifting lazily beneath him. His deep purple eyes locked onto Venus, an expression of barely concealed distaste crossing his face as he reached for a towel.

"Hello, Mother," he greeted, his voice laced with irritation.

The goddess Venus stood before him, radiating an aura of beauty that had once entranced the world. Draped in golden silk that shimmered like sunlight on water, she smiled, but her eyes held concern.

"Hello, my dearest son," she said, her tone soft yet firm. "I came to check up on you. We haven't heard from you in about… three months." She tilted her head slightly, scrutinizing him. "No flirting with angels, gods, goddesses, or even the mortals? Are you sick?"

Lewis scoffed. "Nah, I've been working. You know, an actual job. I'm a doctor for hire. My clients call me, I help them, and—hell—some hospitals reach out to me too."

A bolt of divine lightning cracked across the sky, striking Lewis dead center. Smoke sizzled from his shoulders, but he didn't even flinch. He rolled his eyes and patted out the embers lazily.

Venus exhaled sharply. "Son, you know you shouldn't be interfering with mortal fates and lives. The balance—"

A sudden blur of movement. A shadow flickered.

Venus barely had time to react before a thick tentacle lashed out at her throat. She caught it just in time, fingers gripping the slimy appendage as the sheer force sent her skidding across the mist-covered lake. Water splashed into the air like liquid diamonds.

Before she could counterattack, a second figure emerged—a tall man with glowing blue eyes and sharp features. Mike, the Archangel of Strategy, moved swiftly, catching Venus mid-air with effortless grace. He gently steadied her before fixing Lewis with a sharp glare.

"Attacking your own mother, Lewis?" Mike's voice was calm but edged with warning.

Lewis rolled his shoulders, as if stretching after a light workout. "Oh, please. That was barely an attack. Just a reminder."

Venus, now composed, brushed off her golden robes and narrowed her eyes. "Reminder of what?"

Lewis crossed his arms. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried weight. "That just because you're an ex-goddess doesn't mean you get to forget the past. Or did you conveniently forget the girl you sent Cupid after?"

The mention of Cupid made Venus flinch—just slightly—but it was enough.

For a moment, an unspoken history hung between them, thick with tension.

Then, Venus sighed and relaxed her stance. "We are gods. We are not supposed to be interfering with mortals like we once did in the olden days. You, of all people, should know that."

Lewis let out a dark chuckle. "Right. Because gods are all about divine law and justice. Funny how that rule only applies when it's convenient."

Venus pursed her lips but said nothing.

Mike, ever the mediator, stepped in. "She has a point, Lewis. The more you involve yourself in the mortal world, the more you risk drawing unwanted attention. There are… consequences."

Lewis' smirk faded. He clenched his jaw, but instead of responding directly, he changed the subject. "Speaking of consequences, how's that god-killing cyborg doing? Last I heard, he was up to eleven divine executions."

Venus' expression darkened. "Thirteen, actually."

"Unfortunate," Lewis mused, though his tone lacked sympathy. "And let's not forget about the two mortals—the Mage and the Angry Swordmaster. What's their count now? Fifteen each, wasn't it?"

Mike shifted uncomfortably. "They… take pride in their work."

"Pride?" Lewis scoffed. "They made it a damn sport. Gods and goddesses are being hunted like game, and you're all acting surprised."

Venus straightened. "Lewis, we are aware of the dangers, but we will handle it. We always have."

Lewis stepped closer, voice lowering. "You don't get it, do you? The reason gods are being slain isn't because of some rebellion, or because mortals suddenly grew powerful enough to take you down. It's because you all caused the problems in the first place."

Venus opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, another tentacle lashed forward—this time, wrapping tightly around her neck.

She gasped, struggling for just a moment before Lewis released her.

He stepped back. "You forgot about the Seller and his brother, didn't you? What about the others? The reason gods are dying isn't because of their strength, but because they were careless. If you had never meddled, there wouldn't be so many gunning for your heads now."

Silence.

Venus rubbed her throat but remained composed. "Regardless of your opinions, Lewis, you cannot keep running from who you are. You belong here, not in the mortal world."

Lewis turned away. "I have business to take care of. My clones need refreshing—they can only last so long before they become unstable."

"As much as we don't want you in Heaven, we also can't let you leave," Venus declared.

Lewis stopped mid-step. Then, he chuckled. Slowly, he turned back to face them. "Who's going to stop me?" His gaze flickered between Venus and Mike. "You? The Army of Angels? The rest of the gods?"

His smirk widened. "Even God Himself wouldn't stop me, because He never forces anyone to be where they don't want to be. He leaves that to His workers—so His hands and words stay clean."

Venus' expression softened. "Lewis, please. You have wed many wives. You have entangled yourself in countless mortal fates. You have defied divine laws time and time again."

She hesitated, then spoke her next words carefully.

"Fate herself is angry with you."

For the first time, Lewis' smirk faltered. His muscles tensed, and his eyes darkened.

Venus continued. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

A heavy silence followed.

Lewis scoffed. "Yeah, well, fuck Fate—literally and metaphorically. She might be the assistant to the Gods of Time, but destiny isn't carved in stone." His grip on Venus' throat loosened as he willed his tentacle to release her. "Besides, I've got a real family to visit. My father and actual mother miss me."

Venus coughed slightly as she steadied herself, her golden eyes narrowing. "Fifteen-hundred years ago," she started, brushing invisible dust from her gown, "you helped a villain commit genocide… just to get in her bed."

Lewis smirked. "And that same year, I also helped a dying race rebuild their civilization. Yeah, I slept with their leader, but I saved an entire species. Funny how you never mention the good—just the bad."

Venus' expression hardened. "Sixteen-hundred years ago, you destroyed a planet of innocents. Again, for the sake of lust."

Lewis laughed, shaking his head as he buttoned up his doctor's coat. "And I also created an entire galaxy that same year. You keep pointing fingers, but all I see is selective memory, Mother."

Mike's grip tightened on his staff as he stepped forward. "Lewis, you don't seem to understand the weight of what you've done. You twist creation and destruction for your own pleasure."

Lewis rolled his shoulders nonchalantly. "And the gods don't?" He glanced at Venus. "Tell me, Mother—when was the last time you risked your existence to help a mortal? When was the last time you actually connected with one, not as some divine figure, but as a person?"

Venus hesitated, lips slightly parted as if to respond—but nothing came.

Lewis grinned, his tone laced with mockery. "That's what I thought." His leg shimmered as it took on an ashen-gray hue, a sign of the otherworldly energy coursing through him. "You didn't lose your Goddess of Love title because I decided to fuck everything that moves. You lost it because you aren't love. And you never will be."

Venus flinched.

Lewis adjusted his coat and sighed. "I chose to be a doctor not because I can heal with a touch, but because I actually give a damn about the people I help. You've seen me care for my clients, cry with them, laugh with them, protect them. And yet, here you are, focusing on how 'unholy' I am."

Mike's jaw tightened. "It's because of those traits that you are allowed in Heaven," he admitted, eyes filled with deep displeasure. "Yet you remain… unholy."

Lewis smirked. "Then I must be doing something right."

He turned his back to them, ready to leave, knowing full well they wouldn't—couldn't—stop him.