When Hell reached for him, it failed.
[Hell wants to damn your soul.]
[Denied.]
[Hell is surprised.]
[Trying again…]
[Failed.]
[Trying again…]
[Failed.]
[User is still mortal. Hell has no authority over undamned souls.]
[Hell grows silent.]
Atlas sighed as the echoes of failure buzzed at the corner of his hearing, like cracked bells tolling in a dead city. Each denial carried a strange weight, as though the realm itself did not know whether to fear him, worship him, or destroy him.
He flew downward, cutting through the swollen sky, past thunderclouds bruised purple and black. Lightning laced their bellies, each strike trying to claim his outline, yet failing, as if the storm itself recoiled from touching him.
His torn shirt whipped in the hurricane winds as he descended toward the shattered earth—toward Lidia, whose crimson form clung veil like a shadow around her.
