A swirling vortex of thick black mist tore through the air, gliding like a predator on the hunt. It left behind a trail of smoke that writhed and dissipated into nothingness.
*Swish~*
Moments later, the vortex slammed into the ground with a heavy crack. The smoke exploded outward, cloaking the area in shadow.
From within the haze, Morvathos emerged. His expression was calm, almost intrigued, as the mist dispersed around him. His thoughts lingered with faint amusement,
'Its like Death Eater Flight, Nice!'
The corner of his mouth curved into a slight smile.
This was one of his inborn abilities since his ascension,the art of moving through the air as shadow, bending the world's veil around himself. The Authority Seal had called it Umbral Dissolution. He could summon it at any time, any where and in any situation, and it would grow as he did. A handy skill, and one that felt natural in his hands, like breathing.
Morvathos gazed ahead. Looming before him stood a massive gate: towering red pillars framed a colossal black door, its surface etched with faintly glowing inscriptions that seemed to breathe with an otherworldly pulse. A weathered signboard hung above, blunt in its declaration: Pit of Karma and Punishment.
There were supposed to be guards here, according to the flood of knowledge stuffed into his head. Instead, silence. Not a single staff member patrolled the entrance. Hell, it seemed, was running on skeleton crew,if that skeleton was him alone.
'Just how broke was that guy to be not even able to hire some staff?'
Morvathos sighed, stepped forward, and the heavy doors groaned open automatically. What greeted him was a sight of Crimson with Gold taint flmaes and accompanied by a sound,an avalanche of screams that spilled through the threshold like a wave.
"AAAAARRRRHHH!!! I'M BURNING!! SOMEBODY HELP!! IT HURTS SO MUCH!!"
"HELP!! HELP!! PLEASE GET ME OUT OF HERE!!"
"WATER!! WATER!! SOMEBODY GIVE ME WATER!!"
They crashed into him with raw desperation: pleas, sobs, shrieks of agony.
'I don't feel anything at all...wow!'
He didn't flinch and that shockedhim a littlebecauseas far as he remembered, in his earth days he would feel his stomach drop with the slightest hit of conflict but right now, hearing such horrifying screams, he didn'teven flinch.
Instead, he invoked Umbral Dissolution again. The mist swallowed him, then carried him downward. He descended through the flames, which bent away from his body in acknowledgment,it acknowledged his Authority Seal. If not for that he should have started burn as well. The karmic fire simply didn't care.
The Karmic Flame was impartial. It burned sin, not status. King, peasant, god,it made no difference. Any soul that touched it would be stripped bare and purified.
When his feet touched the ground, Morvathos noticed the floor gleamed silver, unpolished amdscarred, reflecting the fire like a mirror of torment. Strange screens hovered in the air, replaying fragments of sins committed by those trapped here.
He barely had time to examine them before a ragged figure stumbled from the inferno. Naked, eyes wild, the man staggered toward Morvathos, voice raw with desperation.
"WATER—PLEASE, WATER!"
His cries were hoarse, his hands stretched as if Morvathos were salvation incarnate.
Morvathos lifted his right hand, flicked his middle finger against the man's forehead. A pulse of black energy flared, sending the soul flying backward with a scream that tore into the cacophony already ringing through the pit.
He hadn't even needed to check the records to know the man's sin. The karmic flames themselves revealed it, it concentrated fiercest where his groin had once been. The fire licked and devoured him there relentlessly. Morvathos didn't need imagination to guess the crime. Rapist.
Whether he had been or not, it didn't matter. The flames burned sinners without question.
And sympathy… sympathy felt distant, like an emotion he had once owned but long since misplaced. Even if he had wanted to pity the man, something deeper inside denied it. His mind remained steady, clear as still water. Anyone else might have recoiled, horrified by the wailing masses and burning flesh. But he was the God of Death. This was natural.
He observed quietly. The souls writhed, their bodies looking fleshy and human, but in truth, they were merely constructs,physical manifestations of their sins, tethering their essence so they wouldn't drift away. The karmic flames feasted on those constructs, searing and peeling them apart piece by piece.
They screamed, clawed at the ground, begged for it to end. Their skin melted away into golden dust that shimmered briefly before sinking into the silver floor, absorbed like tribute to the infernal system.
Morvathos turned from the suffering. Not out of disgust, nor mercy, but practicality. He had work to do. He shifted into shadow again, Umbral Dissolution carrying him in wide circles as he inspected the pit from above.
The real problem was elsewhere, the Spring of Reincarnation. Still, the pit had to be checked for structural damage. If the karmic flames faltered, Hell's income stream,souls purified and recycled,would collapse. And if that collapsed, so would he.
For dozens of minutes, he circled and scoured. No cracks, no faults, no interruptions in the cycle. Relief swelled faintly in him. At least this part of Hell's machinery was still intact.
Satisfied, he surged upward in a blur of shadow, cutting through the smoky sky. His target lay fifty kilometers away, he kept the flight speed moderate. At its full potential, Umbral Dissolution can catch up to Mach 1 in terms of speed.
From above, Hell's geography unfolded beneath him. A circular expanse of land, finite yet vast enough to hold its grim machinery. At one side lay the Pit of Karma and Punishment. On the opposite, the Spring of Reincarnation. Between them, at the very center, rose the Crimson Descent Palace,his palace, the seat of death itself.
As he closed in, the air thickened. The Spring was surrounded by the Fog of First Arrival, a pale, shrouded barrier where new souls drifted in, stripped of flesh and memory. From there, they plunged into the River of Reincarnation, which in turn flowed into the Spring itself.
Morvathos descended. The terrain here felt different. Whereas the pit had been an inferno of chaos, this place was subdued, heavy with stillness. The fog clung to the air like a shroud, cold and damp, muffling sound. The closer he drew, the more oppressive the silence became.
This was the heart of rebirth, but it reeked of unease. Eeriness pressed down on him, far heavier than flames ever could.
Behind him, three kilometers away, the Crimson Descent Palace loomed faintly through the haze. The land in between was deceptively gentle,lush green forests, quiet groves, streams trickling like some idyllic parkland. Nothing about it fit the common image of Hell.
It was a lie of a landscape. A veneer of serenity wrapped around a broken cycle.
And Morvathos, now its ruler, was here to peel that veneer away.