"I'll go to that Hell Dungeon," Kall said firmly, crossing his arms like a soldier declaring war.
The Sage's voice echoed in the void. "Very well. But first… your gift."
Kall blinked. "Gift? What gift?"
"A book. A very… special book. It contains knowledge of the dungeon you are about to enter. Listen carefully—your destination is the Hell of this world, and your first trial will be to clear the First Floor. There is no time limit. You may take as long as you wish… or, should you be bold enough, attempt to clear the entire dungeon. If you succeed, you will become the Emperor of Hell itself."
Kall's eyebrows shot up. "Emperor of… wait, seriously? That's a thing?"
"Yes. Now—your gift. It is called The Grimgore. You can summon it in both the real world and this dream-practice world. It will follow you anywhere, carrying all items you acquire across realms. It also contains the compiled information of the universe. When you are in Hell, you will learn what your own world imagines about it… and what it never even dared to imagine."
Kall tilted his head, a suspicious look in his eyes. "Wait… you mean every Hell is different?"
"Go."
The word came so abruptly that Kall almost didn't process it. Then the ground under his feet simply… vanished.
For a moment, there was only emptiness beneath him. His stomach dropped as if he'd been hurled off a cliff.
"—Wait! HEY! You—!" His voice rose to a furious shout. "You bastard! You actually pushed me! I swear, if I ever meet you face-to-face, I will definitely kill you! You little—"
The rest of his threat dissolved into a scream as he plummeted through nothingness.
It felt like hours. Or seconds. He couldn't tell.
And then—fwump—he hit something soft.
Kall groaned, rolling onto his back. He blinked up at a bright blue sky. The air was warm. A gentle breeze ruffled the grass beneath him—grass so green it almost glowed.
"…Huh. Is… this Hell?"
It looked more like a peaceful meadow than an infernal wasteland. Birds sang in the distance. The sun felt comforting, almost like home.
"…Okay, this is weird," he muttered.
Then he remembered the gift. "Right—The Grimgore. Maybe it can explain this."
He cleared his throat and called out, "Grimgore!"
With a soft whoosh, a large book materialized before him, floating in the air. Its cover was wrapped in white clover patterns, faint golden lines pulsing along its spine like veins.
Kall caught it carefully and felt a faint hum of energy in his hands. "Alright, let's see what you've got for me."
He opened the book. The pages turned on their own, words shifting across them like living ink. The script was strange, yet he understood every word as if the book were whispering directly into his mind.
Hours passed unnoticed. By the time he looked up, the sun was high—noon.
"…So that's where I am," he murmured.
According to The Grimgore, this was not Hell—not yet. In this world, Heaven and Hell existed side by side, separated only by invisible boundaries. He was currently at the edge of Heaven, in a hidden zone rarely visited by either angels or demons.
Somewhere near the far end of this field was a concealed door that led directly into Hell. The only way to reveal it was by speaking the correct password—a secret known to almost no one.
But The Grimgore had told him.
Kall stood, stretched, and walked toward the far corner of the meadow. There, he spoke the words aloud.
The air shimmered like heat over desert sand. Then, as if painted into existence, a tall, black-iron door appeared before him.
The moment Kall touched the handle, it swung inward, and a gust of scorching wind blasted his face.
He stepped through.
---
The world changed instantly.
Gone was the blue sky and green grass. Above him now stretched a sky of roiling red clouds, lit from below by the glow of rivers of molten rock. The air was heavy, every breath tasting faintly of ash.
Jagged mountains surrounded him, and in the distance he could see a massive volcano, its peak spewing black fire into the sky.
Kall pulled The Grimgore from his side and flipped to the section on Hell's rules. He read quickly.
The Hell Dungeon had ten stages, each guarded by a unique warden—creatures born from the very essence of this infernal realm. The first stage, where he now stood, was known as the Burning Plains. Here, heat alone could kill a man before he ever faced a guardian.
But there was hope. The book spoke of a fruit that could grant resistance to the black fire—a flame more dangerous than lava itself. Without this resistance, he wouldn't survive even a single step near the volcano, much less reach the guardian's chamber.
The problem? That fruit only grew in one place… the western region of the Burning Plains.
Kall frowned, looking westward. The land there looked even harsher, jagged with obsidian cliffs and dotted with steaming fissures.
"But why… why only in the west?" he asked aloud.
The Grimgore's pages fluttered, then stopped on a single, ominous line:
Because the west is where Hell hides the things it wishes no one to find.
Kall shut the book slowly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well… sounds like the perfect place for me, then."
He adjusted the strap of the satchel now hanging at his hip—an item the book had provided for carrying whatever he found.
And then, without another word, he began to run.