Ezkiel was about to fall into the new passageway when he held his posture erect. It wasn't an easy task with the dozens of wounds on his body and mind. Before him were the beings known as The Others, paralyzed with fear, and at his back was a dark room, one that even his eyes couldn't adjust to. The sensation gripping his organs persisted, joined by the uninterrupted chill. But what choice did he have? The gate had already been completely swallowed by the ground when he took his first steps forward.
Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed The Others shifting in fury and fear, unable to take a step forward.
Animals whose instincts left them with no control over their actions.
Ezkiel began to wander forward. The chains on his arms shifted against his body, while the one on his neck scraped lightly against the ground. With each step into the darkness, the silence grew deeper. It seemed as if not even sound had the right to escape this place.
As he ventured further into the darkness, the lost boy tripped on something. Falling to the ground, he noticed that the floor ahead was covered in chains, yet they were both similar to and different from his own.
They were white as lilies.
The floor resembled a nest of snakes, completely flooded with chains that intertwined with each other. Ezkiel took care with each step, trying not to touch the chains, even though it was impossible. There was something wrong with this place; everything seemed ethereal and mysterious, causing a complex reaction throughout his body. The word that came to his mind was discomfort.
This feeling only grew with each step, but he just kept moving forward. Not that he had any other choice. The creatures were still staring at him from the distant gate.
By now, he had already lost track of the walls, just delving into the darkness before him, watching the crimson eyes behind him grow more distant until they became small red dots... then nothing, only darkness.
Ezkiel wandered for an indeterminate amount of time, his only company the white chains all over the ground. However, this moment of calm after his long escape was beneficial for his mind, but bad for his body. He slowly began to notice the effects of his injuries on his movement. His right shoulder could no longer move, now that the adrenaline had faded. His limp had become heavier, and the pain, more intense. The taste of blood pulsed in his mouth, forcing him to spit the reddish saliva onto the ground.
Where am I? This place seems infinitely large! Ah... Fuck it! I'm tired of trying to understand this dream... I'm too tired for this! I just want to wake up already!
" Return available in 1h 14min "
Ezkiel looked at the timer in disbelief. An urge to laugh was trapped in his blood-soaked throat. His eyes were beginning to grow heavy from the number of injuries and the energy he had spent. Soon, his body would collapse.
It can't be... HAHAHAHA! I've only been in this hell for 45 minutes! It's not even halfway over...
The boy placed his left hand on his face, feeling the metal of the chains touching his bruised and slimy chest, slick with the blood from his shoulder wound.
I don't know if I'll last much longer... I can't take this nightmare anymore... I don't deserve this... I wasn't born for this! I want to go home...
Fear took hold of his mind, paralyzing him for brief moments. His gaze focused on the dagger in his right hand, which was almost falling to the ground from the weak grip he could manage with that arm.
He knew he couldn't give up. He knew he couldn't accept death. He had made this choice: to try to survive. However, he didn't know the cost of that choice.
His body still pulsed with discomfort. His mind reasoned and was swallowed by the fear that overflowed from the rooms, but he kept walking. There was no apparent reason, only the will to live, something he didn't even know he had.
In all the years of his life, he had never suffered any great trauma. Ezkiel had always had an ordinary life. He was a mediocre boy. Average grades, good at sports but not enough to be on any team, with few hobbies. He was someone common, without dreams or ambitions, without desires large or small. He just let life take him down the easiest path. His father and mother had always taken good care of him, his girlfriend was loving and strange in a cute way. His life followed a common pattern and he never even thought about taking a turn. He liked living in that small city and had no dreams of moving.
In truth, Ezkiel had no dreams.
Now, he found himself trapped in this hell. Guided by a survival instinct he didn't know existed. Something that had bubbled up from within him in a state of crisis. And the boy clung to this instinct with all his might. After all, it was the only thing he had left. For someone who had never had wants, noticing one being born inside his body, even if he didn't realize it, sustained his existence even in hell.
— I finally have visitors!
A voice echoed in the darkness.
Ezkiel was startled, nearly falling to the ground due to his body's weakness.
After the voice stopped echoing, all the chains on the ground began to move in the same direction. Something was pulling them.
— W-who's there?
The prisoner's weak voice echoed through the darkness. A greater discomfort struck Ezkiel's mind. The voice was nothing like his own and, even coming from his own throat, it sounded confused. It was higher and had a different timbre, like that of a small boy who never grew up.
— Ah... That wasn't the answer I was expecting... Much less the visitor!
The man had a sarcastic tone in his hoarse voice, from lack of use.
Ezkiel stood still in silence. The man's voice bubbled in his organs and a pressure emerged inside his body that he didn't even know existed. This feeling only worsened with each passing moment. A force was building up from within his heart, trying to make space among his organs.
— To whom do I owe such company?
The voice was satirical, amusing itself with the chance to converse.
— E-Ezkiel... Ezkiel Arcs!
The boy roared in discomfort, still adapting to his new way of speaking.
The chains moved again in response. Snakes slithering up between his feet, intertwining with one another, following the voice of their leader.
A laugh filled the darkness. The chains reverberated, trembling in their white hue throughout the room, joining the metallic symphony.
— An outsider! Oh, boy! You shouldn't tell your name to anyone, much less your full one. If I had my arms free, I could identify your sigils. After all, in this world, he who knows your name has control over it!
The man then took a brief pause in his speech. Silence echoed through the environment, while Ezkiel's fear merged with the pressure on his organs.
— Of course... It's not your fault... In my time, only a few knew the sigils. I imagine that now almost no one else knows their true power.
He paused, while all the chains moved in unison to Ezkiel's right.
— That leads me to another question: how did someone who doesn't know the sigils enter my cell?
The chains continued to be pulled, indicating a path for the prisoner. A piece of information which Ezkiel didn't know how to use. If the pain was already this bad just from him speaking, imagine getting closer to this man.
— I just scratched the gate...
The explanation was simple, as simple as the deed had been for him in his excess of rage.
Laughter took over the environment again, shaking the little posture Ezkiel was trying to maintain.
— Just scratched the gate! It seems you have a sense of humor, my dear visitor. Not as bad a company as you seemed.
The chains rattled in genuine happiness.
Ezkiel, still confused, gathered his courage to follow the direction of the chains. The man was the first in this world to be minimally kind to him. And it was the first time he'd had a decent conversation since his arrival.
— Oh... Your pulse doesn't lie!
The chains stopped moving with the man's pronouncement. The pain in Ezkiel intensified.
— You really broke the sigils with a scratch? How did a soulless one withstand the pressure of the sigils?
There was a real doubt in the air. The chains moved a little more, following the intended direction. However, the pressure in Ezkiel's chest began to slowly decrease, though it was still present, pushing his organs, taking up space inside the small body.
— I used my knife to scratch the gate... The symbols were making my head hurt a lot...
Ezkiel lied. In truth, the pain had been diminishing when he made the cut. He had only scratched the gate in anger.
The laughter echoed through the chains again and in some morbid way, it was beginning to sound beautiful to the ears.
— Your head hurt? Ah, dear outsider! Your mind should have corroded just from looking at the sigils!
The voice sounded amused, yet sad at the same time.
— To break the symbols of an Arche with just a knife... Times really have changed.
Ezkiel took a few more steps forward, still wary of the man bound by those thousands of chains.
— Don't be afraid, Ezkiel Arcs.
As soon as the voice spoke his name, a chill pierced his mind, flowing through his entire body like a cascade.
— You must be one of those special ones, my dear visitor. Those who possess unique talents in this world.
The boy continued forward until he reached the end of the chains. Before him was a completely naked man, bound by thousands of chains that left almost none of his skin visible. He was suspended in the air, with his legs together and his arms outstretched. Hundreds of white chains ran over his body, pulling him upwards, while only the chains on his feet fell to the ground. His face was the only visible part, but his black hair, with several silvery-white streaks, fell against his face and body, descending to the floor, joining the chains.
Noticing Ezkiel's approach, he threw his head back, making all the chains on his body move, the metal howling all around the endless darkness.
With his face visible, he smiled. The man was thin, with no beard on his face. His eyes shone with a unique amber, making them look like precious jewels. His cheekbones were prominent and his eyebrows were well-filled. His mouth was chapped from lack of water, but there was still a reddish tone to it. He was a handsome man, in his 30s.
— By the fragmented heavens! You're uglier than I expected!