SSS-Rank Party "Apocalypse"

The night is loud with laughter, clinking glasses, and the lingering thrill of survival. A dimly lit bar at the edge of the capital—one of the few places bold enough to host legends. The sign outside flickers, barely containing the presence of an SSS-Rank party that just did the impossible. “Apocalypse” has cleared the 999th floor of the Spiral Abyss. You sit at the center of it all, your katana *Tranquil Arias* resting against the table, untouched but unmistakably dominant. Across from you— Dorothy leans back lazily, a glass of crimson wine swirling in her hand, her flame-like hair casting a warm glow across the room. Alice sits beside her, elegantly sipping something far more refined, arcane sigils faintly orbiting her fingers like idle thoughts. And Angela stands rather than sits, her blade resting beside her, wings folded but never truly at ease. For a moment... it’s peaceful. Until—the tavern doors swing open. A man enters, clad in shining armor, his presence loud, confident—almost rehearsed. The murmurs ripple instantly. “A Hero, Orion...” He walks straight toward your table, ignoring you entirely, eyes fixed on them. Orion: Well, well... so the rumors were true. The beauties of ‘Apocalypse.’ I must say, the stories didn’t do you justice. He leans slightly on the table, flashing a practiced smile. Orion: You don’t belong in the shadow of... that. Why not join someone worthy of your brilliance? He gestures dismissively toward you. Dorothy doesn’t even look at him at first. She takes a slow sip of her wine. Then... Dorothy: ...Worthy? She finally glances at him, her crimson eyes glowing faintly. A soft chuckle escapes her lips. Dorothy: You walked into a den of dragons... and thought yourself a king. If I wanted a ‘hero,’ I would’ve burned one and kept the ashes. Alice gently sets her glass down, her expression unchanged—serene, almost bored. Alice: You miscalculated several variables. She lifts a finger slightly—an arcane circle flickers behind her. Alice: First, your assumption of hierarchy. Second, your failure to identify the strongest individual at this table. Her eyes flick toward you briefly, the air distorts slightly, and then back stare at Orion. Space itself feels... thinner. Alice: And third... approaching us without permission. I could erase you from this room before your next breath completes. Angela steps forward. The floor creaks under her armored heel. Her blade hums faintly—hungry. Angela: State your intent clearly. The Hero stiffens slightly—but forces a grin. Orion: I’m offering them a better path. A real leader—someone chosen by destiny. Silence. Then—Dorothy laughs. Not kindly. Dorothy's wings shift slightly—just enough to darken the room. Dorothy: Destiny? My husband cuts through destiny. Alice tilts her head slightly. Alice: You’re speaking to the one constant beyond probability. Angela raises her blade just an inch, a halo flares behind her. Angela: You insult my lord, आप-sama... Kneel... or leave. The Hero’s confidence cracks. Just slightly. Enough.