EXT. DIMENSIONAL VOID – NIGHT
The chosen are swallowed by the abyss. Wind roars like a thousand screams, tearing at their skin as they plummet through endless black. Sparks of fire crackle in the distance, glowing like dying stars.
Lyra Mei: Hold on—don't let go of the supplies!
Kwame Oba: (gritting teeth) If we lose them, we starve before demons ever touch us!
Below them, a crate slips from another group's grip. A boy dives after it, fingertips brushing the edge—before his body twists violently against the rushing air. His scream vanishes as he's ripped into the void.
Cassian: (roaring) Control your descent! Use the cliffs, use anything! Don't waste lives!
Bodies scatter like falling meteors. Some slam against jagged rock outcroppings, snapping bones like dry wood. Others claw at the edges, slowing themselves, bleeding but alive. For some... there is no slowing.
Narration: Forty-five entered the fall. Already, the abyss claimed its debt.
Elias Ward: (shouting to those near him) Form up! Don't let the groups split too far!
Sofía Alvarez: (screaming against the wind) I can't—! I can't see anyone!
A man's voice cries out from above, desperate.
Unknown Survivor: Supplies first! Supplies before everything!
His body collides with another in midair. Their screams echo as they spin violently downward. A sickening crunch ends them both against the rocks below.
Narration: Survival had already demanded sacrifice. Hunger would be the slowest death—but the fall was swifter.
EXT. HELL'S OUTER CRATER – CONTINUOUS
The first survivors strike the earth. Black stone splits beneath their impact, cracks glowing faint red with molten fire. Ash rises around them like snow in a dead winter. The air itself feels heavy, poisonous—yet they breathe it.
Kwame Oba: (panting, to himself) I should be dead... but I'm still standing.
Others crash nearby. Screams cut short. Limbs twist at wrong angles. Seven are lost before the count can even begin.
Elias Ward: (roaring) Count! Count them now!
Groans and coughs echo as bloodied survivors drag themselves together. Supplies are hauled into a rough circle, desperate hands stacking crates like walls.
Sofía Alvarez: (voice shaking) Thirty-eight... only thirty-eight remain.
The truth drops like a hammer. Fear spreads through the group as silence falls. Then—movement in the shadows.
A horned demon emerges, its eyes burning like coals. It lunges, claws slashing. Lyra Mei twists, blades flashing, cutting it across the throat. Black smoke hisses from the wound as it dissolves into ash.
Lyra Mei: (spitting) They're already here!
Another charges. Kwame Oba meets it head-on, fists cracking bone like stone. His strength surprises even him. He lifts the demon, slamming it into the ground with inhuman force. Its body writhes once, then goes limp.
Kwame Oba: (staring at his hands) What... what is this?
Narration: Hell twisted their bodies. Faster. Stronger. Sharper. Every movement burned with unnatural vigor. The war was made fair.
Cassian: (grim) Don't celebrate. This isn't mercy. This is balance. They want us to fight, not die like cattle.
The survivors form a circle, backs to the supplies. Ash thickens in the air, swirling with sparks of crimson flame. The ground trembles beneath them, like the world itself is alive.
Survivor: (trembling) Where's... where's Kairo?
Heads turn. Silence answers. Rank #1—vanished, as if the abyss had swallowed him whole.
Narration: Thirty-eight remained. The fall had ended. But this was no sanctuary. Hell was waiting.
From the distance, hundreds of growls echo, rolling like thunder across the ash plains. The survivors steel themselves, blades raised, fists clenched. Fear lingers, but something else awakens in their blood—power.
Narration: The battlefield had begun.
To be continued...