In the records of Coronach, blue fires were believed to be harmless.
Ernest stared in utter shock as the wail of his sister echoed in the cobblestone-sealed chambers of their room. The scent of scorched skin singeing the hairs off his nostrils, as those fabled "harmless" flames burned his sister alive, arising from within the chalk-drawn pentagon they just used to summon a demon.
They. Were. Wrong.
.
.
.
To thrive in hell is to allow the ruin of one's goodwill. The price to enter said hell is a different cost. More 'sorrowful,' the sane wept, or more 'exhilarating,' the deranged reveled.
To Ernest, it was both.
The terms of entry are simple; it's rewritten in every historical fact of hell. 'A soul for A soul.' There's no back door. For the gates of Purgatus to open, a dear sacrifice must be made, and Anastasia's offering was her brother. Ernest Au Cladmir, in other words—
Him.
That was their first mistake, being bold enough to think they had a choice to choose which one of them would end up in its infernos.
Hell isn't that lenient.
Just like the many other secrets lying beneath the soils of their towered hierarchy, that simple truth was hidden; as a result, it wasn't his soul that was taken as an offering— it was his sister's.
「current location: Unidentified village」
「Dimension: 1st, Nullity」
Teetering off the edge of the windowsill, warm light bounces off the broken shard of glass, its iridescent rays streaking along the wooden walls. With each dip of the glass, it nears its inevitable descent to the floor.
The glass and the nimble wind dance in tandem on the edge. Both are unwilling to let go of each other. Until the natural laws of gravity claim the shard of glass, plunging it to the floor.
Clatter!
The sound of the glass rattles a man awake.
"Christ!"
He yells, jolting upright. The bolts and springs of the bed groan beneath his weight.
"Good grief."
He gasps, air slowly expanding his lungs.
"Where am—?"
He questions, only to fall silent.
Cold hands rush to his face, brushing stubble, eyebrows, and then dried lips. All features that he doesn't recognize.
"I'm… I'm alive."
He voices, slowly and uncertainly, his chest heaving as memory of the not-so-distant past floods his mind.
"I'm not suppose to be alive… Not me, but her."
He can still smell the burning flesh, a lump forming in his throat, both due to the death of his sister and also a slow, agonizing realization. Ernest wasn't prepared for any of this; frankly, the only thing he was prepared for was death.
'What the hell do I do.'
He feels the panic and anxiety settling in the depths of his stomach.
"Firstly, glasses."
He nods frantically, looking around, surveying the blurred expanse of what seems to be a room.
Gently placing his hands at his side, he shifts his weight on the bed, feet crashing onto the floor on what he knows is wood.
Moving his leg and hands around, he searches for glasses or anything he can use to cure the blur that plagues his eyesight.
"Bloody hell, doesn't hell have any specs?"
He grumbles, swerving his knee quickly to the side in frustration, wincing as it impacts with a solid object.
"A..."
He swipes his hands across the top.
"A nightstand!"
'It should be here, right?'
He moves his hands over the circumference of its surface and finally locates it.
'Found it!'
"Glasses!"
He beams, picking it up and sliding it over his eyes.
'This has to be the first time I've become so excited for glasses.'
The haze in his vision clears quickly, though a yellow tint lingers from the stained lenses, and the cracked glass subtly warps the space around him; however, it's something he's accustomed to.
Ernest's prior life was a compilation of broken specs and ancient records, so naturally, he learned to adapt to whatever condition his glasses were in.
"So then… this is the esteemed first dimension of Purgatos Hell. Ana would be disappointed."
The room is neither refined nor a blazing house of horrors and death, yet it lies uncomfortably close to both.
Its aged wooden floors and walls mirror those of any medieval chamber, while dim light spills across the stone hearth, a dominant fixture of the era's design, stretching shadows along the room's edges.
"It surely isn't anything death-worthy. If I wanted to visit hell, I'd just go to the old archives."
He utters flatly.
'Is this really what my sister died for?'
Taking his first steps, he uses the wall to balance himself. Yet, once he removes his hands, a thin coat of moisture clings to his palms, and the scent soon follows. The suffocating, earthy, stale stench fills his nostrils.
"Ughh~... What's that smell?"
He advances closer to the wall and realizes it's the source.
"Heavens... How can one lie here?"
He backs away, moving towards the window instead, spotting the glass that awakened him and the gaping hole of the shattered window from which it emerged.
'Sharp tip, good shape. Suitable weapon if needed.'
He bends down, picking it up, safely tucking it into his pants before switching his attention to the world outside the room.
"Nullity…"
He utters to himself, staring absentmindedly at a world he had only known through classified books and his sister.
"Ernest, what the hell are you going to do here?"
「The devil welcomes you.」
The panel pops up, and he steps back from the window.
'It's about to begin.'
「Before the commencement of the entrance trail, you must begin with the pledge of Purgatus.」
"Even in hell there's a pledge. Why does everyone crave worship?"
He questioned, eyebrow furrowing.
「I sacrifice my mundane livelihood for brutality.」
"I sacrifice my mundane livelihood for brutality." Ernest starts uncertainty dripping from each word
「I sacrifice my knowledge for truth.」
He repeats.
「I welcome thy sin to sprout in my heart like a tree of poison, for I willingly give thy soul to the game for true devils on a conquest for godhood. I worship myself and none else. 」
'It's vastly different from the gods' pledge.'
He hesitates for a second; however, it's too late to question or back away from the game. The demon already took his sister, and if he does manage to go back to Coronach, the only thing that will greet him is death. Used as an example of what happens to heretics or former followers who question their rule. Most of all, their secrets would stay unrevealed.
"I welcome thy sin to sprout in my heart like a poison tree, for I willingly give thy soul to the game for true devils." He completes.
「Excellent. Sinner #660 has successfully solidified their place in the entrance trail. I hope you enjoy your time within the first dimension of Purgatus. Nullity」
The sheer unrealness of his situation sinks in. Ernest was supposed to be recording, sorting, and learning history, not witnessing it, especially not an event like this. This is a heretic's dream, a game held in a hell out of the gods' reach. A game where a single soul can become strong enough to defeat them.
'What have we gotten ourselves into, dear sister?'
「Dear Sinner, tell me your purpose for entering the gates of Purg.」
'I know this; it's the first test.'
Ernest recalled his sister practicing the answer for this question a few days before their first attempt at entering the game.
"I… I want the truth."
He says it plainly, hoping it is enough.
「Is that what you truly want?」
The text burns brighter.
"Yes! I want it… I need it!" He shouts, desperation clawing its way up his chest. "It's all that I want… I want to uncover every lie and deception the gods have woven into our realms, nothing more, nothing less. "
In that moment, he reached a silent resolve: he would see his sister's wishes fulfilled. Ernest had never harbored ambitions of his own; he had always followed the path she set for him, even becoming a historian because it was what she wanted. So why should he change that now?
「Wonderful! For that, what must you need?」
"I need knowledge on everything. The truth." He answers.
「That's partially correct. To thrive and survive long enough to gain such truths, you need power and strength. Have you ever questioned what you would do if you figured out the whole truth?」
"I..." He pauses. "I would let the universe know."
「Fool. Do you think the gods will allow such? Would they allow a mortal to uncover their secrets?. The answer is no. They would bury you before their lies are told to anyone.」
He remains silent in deep contemplation, knowing everything the entity behind the panel is saying is true. Ernest Au Cladmir was is a nobody; he is but a low-ranking historian whose sister stumbled upon something she shouldn't have.
They'd obliterate him in a millisecond.
「I am the Covenant. An entity who is willing to aid you, if allow me to. Do you want power? Enough to rival the gods and protect yourself from whatever's to come?」
"I need it. There's no going back, or else her sacrifice would be for nothing." He accepts.
「Good. Forget companionship and kindness; a blissful heart only falls. In Purgatos, only the strongest survive. Your life from here is now set to Hell mode; expect the unexpected and believe none, you are all sinners after all.」
"Sinners..." His heart skips a beat. "Am I a sinner?"
「Only you carry that answer. Now, for your admission exam, I'll spin the wheel of difficulty to see what level of difficulty your examination will be on.」
"The admission exam." He tightens his fist.
Before him, a large spinning wheel materializes, forcing him to step back so he can take in its full grandeur. Etched upon it are five levels: Easy, Normal, Hard, Nightmare, Hell.
'I hope it's at least normal.'
He steadies himself, then steps forward, gripping the handle and giving it a firm turn. Holding her breath, she watches without blinking, fingers crossed as the wheel spins, its outcome threading their fates together.
As the wheel slows, every pass over Hell sends his pulse racing until at last it grinds to a stop.
「Results: NIGHTMARE!」
"Blood hell." He hisses. "I'm fucked."
Next chapter- A PRICE FOR POWER