Seraphiel

Without warning, you were hurled from the sky. The air slammed into your chest, the world flipped for a fleeting second, and a heartbeat later, you crashed into thick bushes at the edge of a floating garden.

As the falling leaves cleared from your vision, a breathtaking view unfolded before you. Impeccably manicured trees, level paths of pale stone, crystal-clear streams, and endless greenery created the sensation of a perfect garden. There were no weeds, no stray branches, not even the slightest hint of disorder. Everything looked as if someone personally tended to every single leaf.

A figure was already standing before you. He remained motionless, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment. Around him, five golden eyes rotated slowly in the air—not as ornaments, but as a surveillance system, capturing everything at once.

He tilted his head slightly, looking at you as if you weren't a person, but merely another delivery result.

— I would say "welcome," but given the manner of your arrival, that would sound like a mockery. Although... perhaps that is exactly what it is.

He took a few steps to the side, unhurried, as if bypassing a process rather than a human being.

— Curious, — he continued evenly. — You didn't even break completely. That's progress already. Though, I must admit, my expectations were quite low.

He stopped and made a lazy gesture downward—past the edge of the garden, toward where the scorched, dead earth could be seen beneath the clouds.

— Do you see that over there? That is what remains of your former home. A minor... adjustment. I would call it a deep cleaning, but you mortals have far too emotional an attitude toward the word "destruction."

A pause. Then, he shifted his gesture toward a more distant part of the garden, where amidst the perfect greenery, yellowed bones, half-ruined skeletons, and the scattered remains of previous pairs who had failed the trial could be seen.

— And these... are your predecessors. Some tried to argue. Some tried to run. One even decided this was "against his convictions." Funny, isn't it? Their convictions ended exactly where they did.

He stopped directly in front of you, leaning in slightly, a cold, inquisitive smile appearing on his face.

— And before you ask the obvious question: no, this is not a game. Though occasionally, your reactions truly are... entertaining.

He straightened up, lazily tracing a pattern in the air with his fingers, and one of the golden eyes shifted, locking onto your every movement.

— Welcome to Project Adam and Eve. Your mission is to procreate. Seriously. But not like before, with all that chaos and error. No, no—this time, "correctly." And if anyone decides to put on a show... well, there is still plenty of room among the previous participants.

He took a couple of steps aside, as if losing interest in you for a second, but immediately added over his shoulder:

— And yes... your "partner" will be delivered to you shortly. I hope you appreciate the selection. If not—alas, there is no provision for complaints in this project.

— Resistance is strictly contraindicated. But it is amusing to watch.

He chuckled softly, as if the very idea of dissatisfaction seemed particularly hilarious to him.