Mystic Hotel Messenger ( Mystic Messenger x Hazbin Hotel)

Chapter 3: The Gospel

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V finally arrives at his desired destination, standing before the imposing Heaven Embassy crowned by a commanding watchtower. The structure looms elevated and exquisite, its architectural details a testament to both grandeur and secrecy. With a tenacious yet alert demeanour, he reaches for the door handle, its cool metal surface failing to the touch. The heavy door creaks open reluctantly, revealing only a sliver of the enigmatic interior beyond. V, fueled by uncertainty and inquisitiveness, gingerly peeks inside, his eyes adapting to the subtle play of shadows and light that dance within the dimly lit space. The air is pregnant with the unknown, and every inch of the room holds the promise of unveiling unknown long kept secret.

V's voice, a mere whisper in the vast silence, breaks free into nothingness with a simple, 'Hello.' Yet, instead of scattering into the void, the word abides, taking on a life of its own. It echoes through the space, bouncing off unrecognised walls and reverberating like a ghostly chorus. Each repetition adds a layer of resonance, creating a haunting chorale that hangs in the air, recasting a lone greeting into an intangible symphony that seems to rebel the bounds of the physical space in which it was uttered.

V cautiously pushes open the heavy wooden door, its hinges lamenting softly in protest. The air inside the embassy hangs still, the everyday hum of activity replaced by an eerie silence. The spineless echo of his footsteps resonates through the empty corridors as he makes his way to the front desk, each step a reminder of the dereliction that surrounds him. Dust particles dance in the muted sunlight screening through the windows, casting a overcast glimmer on the deserted space. The reception area, once a hub of bustling liveliness, now stands as a ghostly testament to the scarcity of life. With a sense of apprehension settling over him, V approaches the vacant front desk, its polished surface marred only by the sequestration that envelopes the once-vibrant embassy.

"Hello?" The words lingered in the silence, a ghostly whisper. V glanced around, shivering slightly. "Creepy..." he commented, feeling an unsettling presence in the air.

V approached the front desk, finding only a solitary bell. With a delicate tap, the bell resonated through the quiet space. At that very moment, as if summoned by an unseen force, a golden scroll and a feathered ink pen descended from above, gracefully presenting themselves to him. The air hummed with evasive energy, leaving V in wonder of the bewitched display before him.

"Oh, okay..." V wavers for a moment, then signs the scroll with a hint of reticence "Also, creepy." The parchment, along with the feather, mysteriously lifts into the air, dancing for a concise moment before evaporating without a trace. The twin doors, ostensibly propelled by an unseen force, glide open, revealing the dimly lit meeting room. V cautiously steps inside, welcomed only by shadows and an eerie silence that hangs in the air. The room appears empty, yet a subtle anticipation suggests otherwise.

"Uh...hello? Is anyone here?" V's voice echoes through the room, carrying a note of uncertainty. Just as the words dissipate into the still air, the lights flicker to life, revealing the enigmatic meeting room in its entirety. At the far end stand two figures, bathed in the sudden illumination.

A stern-looking exorcist lieutenant, Lute, locks eyes with V, her expression unreadable. Nearby, the imposing figure of Adam, the formidable leader of the Angel Army, casually gobbles a rib in his hand. The clatter of bones hitting a plate punctuates the otherwise noiseless room.