INT. STAGING PLATFORM – DAY
The crowd has not stopped crying, praying, and clinging to the fences. The chosen stand in silence, the weight of millions pressing down on their shoulders.
Gabriel lowers his wings, his gaze like cold iron.
Gabriel: Today, you depart. Say your final words, for when you enter... no signal will pass. No voice will leave. The earth will not hear you, and Heaven will not answer. You will face Hell alone.
Gasps ripple through the families. Some collapse into prayer. Others scream in despair. The chosen exchange glances — some pale, some hardened.
EXT. STAGING PLATFORM – DAY
Families rush forward again, pressing trinkets and charms into trembling hands.
Mother: Take this, please... for protection.
Father: Carry this with you. Remember us.
Lover: Promise you'll return.
Necklaces, bracelets, scraps of cloth — desperate tokens of faith are pressed into the candidates' hands.
The media's cameras flash relentlessly, capturing every embrace, every prayer, every tear.
All around, voices rise together, a storm of prayer. Thousands bow, kneel, or raise their hands toward the chosen, begging God to guide them. The air shakes with hope and despair entwined.
INT. ARMORY GATE – DAY
The massive steel door groans open, gears grinding. Beyond lies a swirling abyss of red light, pulsing like a wound in the sky.
The chosen stand before it, forty-five in number, their survival packs strapped tightly — one week of food, water, and medicine secured.
Gabriel steps aside. His voice is final.
Gabriel: Steel will protect you. Blood will baptize you. Walk forward — or walk to nothingness.
No encouragement. No comfort. Only judgment.
EXT. PORTAL – CONTINUOUS
One by one, the chosen step into the light. Darkness swallows them.
INT. THE VOID – UNKNOWN
The world shatters. Weight disappears.
They fall — all of them together, tumbling in a storm of broken swords, shattered shields, and bones of the dead.
Some cry out. Others grit their teeth in silence.
But the void is not empty. Shadows claw from the dark. Demons lunge mid-fall, dragging unlucky souls screaming into the abyss. Their voices vanish instantly.
Arven spins helplessly — his hand brushing cold steel. It pulls to him as though it were always his. A katana, faintly glowing. Its weight feels frighteningly natural in his grasp.
He grips it tightly, heart pounding.
Around him, others seize their weapons too:
Kael: Finally... something that feels right. (twin iron gauntlets clamp over his arms, sparks of energy bursting with every movement)
Cassian: Heh. A weapon fit for command. (he swings a black halberd, its blade shimmering faintly)
Julian: A dagger? Seriously?! (he stares in disbelief at the short blade in his palm)
Tanaka: Hah! Now this... this feels like home. (a spiked chain coils around his arm, rattling like a serpent)
Others shout or curse, some thrilled, others terrified, each weapon a reflection of their soul.
EXT. DOMAIN – HELL
With a thunderous crash, they strike the earth.
Crimson soil cracks beneath them. Rivers of blood stretch like veins through the land. Towers of rusted iron claw at the black heavens. Chains rattle endlessly above, clanging though no wind blows.
The chosen groan, coughing, counting who remains. Some are already gone. Claimed in the fall.
And then — the voice.
It does not come from the sky. It comes from within their skulls. Heavy. Inevitable.
Azrael (voice): Welcome, children of dust. I am Azrael... Sigil of the First. You walk the road of blood and steel. Your screams will mark its stones. Your deaths will pave its path. Welcome... to Hell.
The ground trembles. Chains thunder like bells. Shadows stretch across the horizon, vast and formless.
The chosen freeze in terror.
Cassian: If that was only his voice... what happens when we see him?
Arven's knuckles turn white around the katana. His silence is heavier than fear.
Narration: Blood in the soil. Steel in trembling hands. The road had opened — and there would be no return.
To be continued...