The first drop fell heavy, like molten lead.
Soon, an absurd storm tore across the sky – but there was no sky here, only a darkness without origin. The pale light that bathed them came from something that should have been the moon, yet there was no moon in this world.
The trees groaned under the weight of the rain, their leaves trembling as if screaming.
Within seconds, the ground had become a swamp, water rising fast, swallowing roots, covering trunks.
"We're going to die again…" – the man murmured, his voice faltering, as if he had already accepted the end.
The woman beside him, already fragile and broken from the battle, finally collapsed. She fell to her knees, eyes red from crying, sobs tearing at her throat.
"I don't want to… I don't want to… please, I can't die anymore!" – she repeated in despair, like a child pleading for the impossible.
Lennon watched, frozen. The water rose, cold, cutting at his skin.
He turned to the man, clutching his sword, breathing uneven.
"What do we do!? This rain is flooding the entire forest!"
The man's gaze had no fire left. Only a sick resignation.
"There's nothing to do…" – he said in a faint voice.
"This rain will drown us… it will attract monsters… we'll die again."
The words fell like hammers in Lennon's mind. He stepped back, heart racing.
The woman was almost submerged, screaming in pure terror, thrashing, unable to swim. The man, perhaps by instinct, perhaps still holding onto some humanity, plunged in to try to help her.
Lennon remained paralyzed. Eyes fixed on the scene, breathing short.
The memory of his last death still burned in his body, and now fear devoured him faster than the water.
He did not want to die again. He did not want to feel it again.
But the forest did not wait for decisions.
A movement sliced through the water – a monstrous whirlpool.
Suddenly, a colossal, grotesque fish, with two heads wide open, jaws full of teeth, surged from the newly formed depths.
No warning. No chance.
In a single strike, the monster devoured the woman, tearing her scream in half. The man barely had time to react; the second head grabbed him and ripped him from the water, crushing him with a sickening crack.
Lennon was alone.
His body froze, panic taking over. He began to swim blindly, arms flailing desperately against the water, trying to escape, trying to survive. But there was no direction, no way out.
"Guide! Guide, help me! Please!"
– he screamed, choking between water and terror.
Nothing. No response. Only crushing silence, broken by the sound of the monster approaching.
A massive log, dragged by the current, came straight at him. Lennon had no time to dodge. The impact split his forehead, blood spreading through the dark water.
Consciousness slipped away like sand through fingers.
And then, in the darkness, he felt two jaws closing over his body.
Pain. Then, nothing.
The fish swallowed Lennon whole.
He awoke with a scream caught in his throat.
The pain was worse than before, as if every bone had been broken and rebuilt wrong, as if his very flesh remembered being devoured.
His chest heaved, breath ragged, and his mind trembled in pieces.
He barely recognized himself.
Each death had stolen something from him – and now he seemed on the verge of madness.
He tried to move. Couldn't.
Cold chains tore at his wrists and ankles, binding him to the hard, filthy ground.
He raised his gaze.
He was surrounded.
Dozens, maybe hundreds of prisoners in the same condition, chained, all wearing the same uniform.
Some screamed, pleading for mercy, voices shredded by fear.
Others cried, endless sobs, swollen eyes.
Some had completely broken: laughing alone, mumbling nonsense, lunatics.
And others, merely murmured with vacant eyes:
"I don't want to die again… I don't want to…"
The air was thick, macabre.
The sound of dragging chains, the smell of sweat, blood, and despair mixed into a suffocating atmosphere.
Then, a sound cut through everything.
Applause.
Strong, measured claps, echoing all around.
Lennon blinked, his blurred vision struggling to focus.
When it finally cleared, his heart froze.
They were in an arena.
A colossal circle, where he and the other prisoners were mere pieces placed in the center.
Around, grandstands rose, filled with spectators – but they were not human.
Hordes of distorted faces, eyes blazing, mouths full of fangs, misshapen forms that laughed, roared, and applauded with wild fervor.
Some, yes, resembled humans. But their smiles were too wide, eyes shining with perverse pleasure.
Lennon felt his stomach twist.
And then he noticed:
each prisoner had a metal plate hanging from their chest, marked with numbers.
In front of him, a man with a blank stare trembled, his plate reading: Forgotten 666.
Across, a woman with a hungry face bore: Forgotten 234.
And more, dozens, hundreds of other numbers.
All of them "Forgotten."
All of them like him.
The clapping grew into a roar.
Suddenly, a female voice rose, cutting through the crowd like a blade.
Lennon recognized it immediately – it was the same voice of the demonic guardian who registered him upon arrival.
High above, on a pulpit, she appeared.
Tall, cruelly beautiful, clad in a living crimson dress, eyes glowing like embers.
Her lips curled in a cynical smile as she raised her arms like a show host.
"My proud demonic people!" – her voice echoed, soft and deafening at once.
"The applause shows the prisoners put on a fine performance!"
The crowd erupted in screams, laughter, grotesque whistles.
Some stomped their feet, others howled like animals, all celebrating the massacre Lennon had just endured.
He felt his throat dry.
These were not just deaths.
They were shows.
And he… was part of the spectacle.
The guardian raised the chalice she held, voice echoing, dripping with cruel theatricality:
"I believe my people are gathered here because they know of the new prisoner from the last series… the one who, even after death, still resonates in the human world. A myth. A legend. This… is the first Forgotten to bear a legendary utility in the Pride domain!"
The stands erupted in bestial acclaim, screams, hysterical laughter. The sound was deafening, like a wave of horror swallowing the air.
"Even after years of your miserable end," – the guardian continued, smiling with scorn – "the human world still remembers you as if you were alive. You enjoyed the pact as no one ever dared. Bring him here… Forgotten 666, from the Pride domain of the last series!"
Lennon's heart nearly stopped.
For a moment, the world seemed frozen.
"What…? Me? Legendary? The first?"
He felt the chains vibrate on his wrists, cold as ice.
His stomach turned.
It was as if he were naked before thousands of hungry eyes, each devouring him with the same hunger the two-headed monster had used.
His mind spun in chaos.
"Legendary utility… what does it mean? Why me? How can they know my name? My past? What do they want from me?!"
The idea of still being remembered in the human world, even dead, throbbed in his head like a curse.
He did not want to be remembered like this.
Not in this place.
All eyes were on him now.
The entire audience of horrors, the other prisoners – some shocked, others staring at him with pity, fear, or pure disbelief.
The sound of dragging chains echoed as his guardian appeared.
Tall, dark, eyes burning like glowing coals beneath a mask, holding Lennon's chain and pulling him.
He fell to his knees, dragged like cattle. His skin burned from friction with the ground.
He tried to resist, but the chains burned even more, forcing him to yield.
The crowd roared in delight at every stumble, as if it were part of the show.
Laughter cut through his ears.
His heart pounded like a drum.
"I… am nothing but a toy here. A piece in their theater."
With each step, each pull, certainty crushed him:
hell was not just punishment.
It was a stage.
And he had just been announced as the star.