Sezel plunged into the black pond, its liquid-like mass swallowing him, a cold abyss claiming his battered form. The ripples stilled, the surface mirroring the starless sky wrapped in eternal dark.
BLURP! GLURP!
He struggled, his one good arm and legs thrashing against a downward pull that felt like gravity itself had a personal grudge against him. But his strength was a flickering candle in a hurricane, and soon his body stilled, sapped by the icy depths.
It's dark. Too dark. His mind spiraled into a void that was a perfect match for the one surrounding him. Each gasp was a betrayal, his lungs filling with the thick, cloying liquid.
His blood felt like it was turning to ice, and a sharp pain lanced through his skull. The wounds that had been screaming in agony just moments before—his pierced chest, his severed arm—were now blessedly numb.
So, this is what peace feels like. I think... I want to cry.
His face twisted in a silent, agonized sob, but no tears fell. The liquid denied him even that small release. A gray fog clouded his mind, a sweet, seductive whisper urging him to just let go, to close his eyes and drift into the welcoming oblivion.
The Black Knight's blade had missed his heart by a mere sliver. A cruel jest of fate, really. Was this survival? Or just a prolonged, more elaborate form of torture? A swift death would've been kinder, he thought, regret a bitter pill in his throat. Why did I run? All that effort, all that pain, just to end up here. I could have saved myself the cardio.
Sezel remembered a selective few of his memories, which were relatively better than all others—not that they were happy memories. His sister's frail smile, her trust in his promise of food and water, surfaced like a blade to his heart.
Sorry, little one. Looks like I'm not coming back after all.
Drowning in the swift dark liquid of Spirit Realm, he'd never imagined such an end. He wanted to die surrounded by his loved ones, if there would be any. Wasn't that what every soul craved?
It wasn't exactly the heroic end he'd... well, he'd never imagined a heroic end. But this was just pathetic.
Well, this is a new and exciting way to die. At least it's original.
As his vision blurred, a butterfly appeared. It was pristine, its wings shimmering with a light that had no right to exist in this darkness. It danced before him, a beacon of impossible beauty and freedom.
Oh, great. Now I'm hallucinating. But still his heart said otherwise.
"I want to fly… to be free." He reached out, fingers trembling, yearning for its fleeting beauty.
Another hand grasped his—a pale, delicate hand, a young woman's. She emerged, petite, her skin milk-white, purple hair flowing like liquid starlight, synchronized with the pond's currents. Her touch pressed his cheek, cold as the void, devoid of warmth. Her smile, soft yet sinister, sent shivers through his fading soul.
"Oh, poor thing," she said, her voice a soft, charismatic whisper that carried an unsettling edge. "Hated by the creator itself."
Well, that's one way to put it. But i guess its true.
"Abandoned by your parents just after you were born," she continued, her voice a sweet, venomous lullaby. "Abandoned by your friends in this hell."
Sezel's eyes widened, the cold liquid stinging his pupils. Abandoned by my parents? They died in an accident! His mind, already drowning in chaos, latched onto the discrepancy.
The girl floated closer, her face inches from his. She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "Do you want to live?" Her breath was a ghost of a touch, an impossibility in this airless, liquid world.
He tried to thrash, to pull away, but his body was paralyzed, as stiff and unyielding as a corpse. Am I imagining this? Have I finally lost my mind?
Her laughter was a soft, piercing sound. "No, poor boy. I'm here, right beside you." Shock flooded his mind, a thousand questions piling up, but the suffocation was winning, his lungs burning, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Was I ever really living to begin with? Can this be called a life?
Her purple eyes met his charcoal, piercing his despair. "Is there no one you long to see? Don't you wish to witness the world?"
"The world? Everyone must have forgotten I ever existed. After all, I never did. The world doesn't even care if a rat dies or lives." His thoughts grew faint, his heart pounding, threatening to burst.
"Do you want to live?" she asked again, her voice an echo in the fading landscape of his mind.
On the very edge of death, his lips parted, the black liquid rushing in. Humans fear death, but Sezel had made his peace with it. Yet, here was a chance, a ridiculous, impossible chance. And why not take it?
If he awakened, would he become a hero, saving humanity? No, that wasn't his path.
I... I want to live a real life. I want to know what it means to live.
The girl let out a small sinister laugh. "I will lend you some of my powers until you get your own."
How will I get my own? What do you mean?
She floated back, graceful as a fish, her finger tracing her lips in a thoughtful pose. "By awakening your Spirit Meridian," she said with a deliberate, chilling smile.
Sezel stared at her blankly. Right. Simple as that. Just awaken my... whatever that is. While drowning. In hell.
The girl laughed again. "Yes, it's simple. You just need to get to the Awakening Shard."
The what now?
She ignored his silent, panicked question. "Do you have time for chatter, boy?"
Clearly, he didn't. Death's glare was rendering him useless.
"Go to the west."
The girl vanished into the waves without saying another word.
Sezel felt a stir of strength, his numbness slowly going away. With desperate moves, Sezel propelled himself up. Struggling, he finally managed to touch the surface.
Pulling himself out, coughing out blood and the black liquid, gasping. The pain in his left side and chest returned. He bit his lip in agony, the coppery taste of his own blood a grim reminder that he was, for the moment, alive.
"West," he rasped.
His eyes narrowed, catching a pulsing yellow light in the distance. Had he missed it before?
He stumbled to his feet, picking up the metallic chain and wrapping it around his arm. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. With faltering steps, he marched toward the light, his only hope in this godforsaken realm. Salvation, or just another, more elaborate trap? At this point, he was too tired to care.