CHAPTER 3: DAILY LIFE IN PURGATORY
Day 1
They slept.
All four of them, curled together in the corner of the main chamber like exhausted kittens. I stood watch—not because I expected danger, but because I didn't know what else to do. Watching was what I did. Watching was what I'd always done.
The Purgatory hummed around us. The seals pulsed in gentle rhythms. And for the first time in a millennium, I wasn't alone.
This is weird, I thought. This is really, really weird.
I'd been an accountant. I'd lived in a tiny apartment in Tokyo. I'd never even owned a pet, let alone hosted four adventurers in my cosmic prison.
And yet.
And yet watching them sleep, seeing the tension leave their faces, feeling the Purgatory approve of their presence—it felt... right. Like this was always meant to happen.
Stupid, I told myself. You're a lock. You're not supposed to have feelings.
But the runes on my skin pulsed warmer, and I couldn't quite bring myself to believe it.
---
Day 2
They woke hungry.
I hadn't considered that. Immortals don't eat. The Purgatory doesn't stock a fridge. And four mortal women needed food.
"I can fix this," Liana said, rummaging through her pack. "I have emergency rations. Enough for... maybe two days if we're careful."
"Two days." Kaia's voice was flat. "Then what?"
No one answered.
I cleared my throat. The sound still made the walls vibrate slightly. "I might... have an idea."
They looked at me.
I concentrated. Reached into the Purgatory's deeper layers—the spaces between spaces, the folds where forgotten things accumulated. And I pulled.
A pocket dimension opened. Pocket Space perk, 15 cubic feet of storage I'd forgotten I had. Inside: supplies. Not food, but materials. Metal. Leather. Tools.
"Give me an hour," I said.
---
One hour later, I'd forged four hunting knives.
Blacksmith perk, working overtime. The metal wasn't magical—not yet—but it was sharp. Sharp enough to hunt whatever lived in the Purgatory's outer reaches.
"There are creatures here," I explained, handing each woman a knife. "Not dangerous to me. But edible. Probably. You'll need to—"
"You're sending us out to hunt?" Raine's voice pitched high.
"I'm giving you a choice. Stay here and starve, or—"
"I'll go."
Kaia took her knife, tested the edge, and nodded once. "Liana. With me. We'll need someone who can identify safe game."
Liana paled. "I'm a scholar. I don't—"
"You'll learn." Kaia's smile was thin. "We all will."
They left through a passage I opened. Elara watched them go, then turned to me.
"You're adapting quickly," she said. "For someone who's been alone a thousand years."
"I adapt." I paused. "I was... I wasn't always like this. Before. I was human."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Human?"
"A different world. A different life." I looked away. "I chose this. I don't regret it. But I remember what it was like to need breakfast."
Elara was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly: "Kairos. That's what I'll call you. Until you tell me your real name."
I blinked. "Kairos?"
"It means 'the right moment.'" She almost smiled. "You appeared at exactly the right moment for us. It fits."
Kairos. I turned the word over in my mind. It felt... lighter than my true name. Less weight. Less eternity.
"Kairos," I repeated. "I... yes. That works."
Elara's almost-smile became a real one. "Good. Now teach me about these seals. If we're going to fight back, I need to understand what we're defending."
And so, for the first time in a thousand years, I talked. Really talked. Explained the runes, the patterns, the way the Purgatory breathed. Elara listened, asked questions, challenged my assumptions. By the time Kaia and Liana returned with three rabbit-like creatures, I felt... lighter.
Like loneliness was a disease, and conversation was the cure.
---
Day 3
Raine came to me at night.
The others slept. The fire—conjured from nothing, because I could—crackled softly. And Raine sat across from me, hugging her knees, staring into the flames.
"You're not sleeping," I observed.
"Can't." Her voice was small. "Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. Alaric's. Smiling."
I didn't answer immediately. What could I say? That betrayal was part of life? That she'd heal? I'd been betrayed too, once. In my human life. A girlfriend who'd emptied my bank account. A boss who'd taken credit for my work. It had hurt then.
But this was different. This was a father figure sending his children to die.
"I can't fix it," I finally said. "I can't make the memories stop. But I can..." I hesitated. "I can sit here. While you talk. Or while you're quiet. Whatever helps."
Raine looked at me. In the firelight, my form was still indistinct—shifting shadows and golden runes—but she didn't flinch.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why do you care? You don't know us."
"I know what it's like to be used." The words came out before I could stop them. "I know what it's like to realize the people you trusted never saw you as a person. Just a tool."
Raine's eyes widened. "You—"
"Different circumstances. Same pain." I looked away. "I'm not good at this. Comfort. Connection. But I... I don't want you to feel alone. Not here. Not in this."
Silence.
Then, softly: "Can I... can I sit next to you?"
I nodded.
She moved closer, until she was almost touching me. The runes on my skin warmed—not from power, but from something else. Something I didn't have a name for.
We sat like that until dawn.
---
Day 5
Kaia cornered me.
Literally. Her hand against the wall beside my head, her gray eyes boring into mine. In my human life, this would have been terrifying. Now it was just... intriguing.
"You're hiding something," she said.
"I'm hiding many things. You'll need to be specific."
"The way you look at us." Her voice was quiet, intense. "Like we matter. Like we're not just... temporary. Why?"
I considered lying. Considered deflecting. But Kaia was too sharp for that.
"Because you're the first people I've spoken to in a thousand years," I said honestly. "Because you're the first people who've seen me as anything but a monster. Because..." I paused, searching for words. "Because I was human once. And I remember what it felt like to be seen."
Kaia stared at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, she lowered her hand.
"Liana thinks you're a reincarnated soul. Someone who chose this." She tilted her head. "Is she right?"
"Yes."
"Then you're an idiot."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Choosing immortality. Choosing this." She gestured at the seals, the darkness, the weight of eternity. "Who does that?"
"Someone who had nothing to lose."
Kaia's expression flickered. Just for a moment. Then it was gone.
"We'll see," she said. "We'll see if you still feel that way when we're gone."
She walked away before I could answer.
But I noticed she didn't say if.
She said when.
---
Day 7
A week in Purgatory.
I'd expected them to hate it. To count the days until they could leave. Instead, something strange happened: they adapted.
Liana spent her days studying the seals, documenting every pattern, building a comprehensive theory of Purgatory's magic. She'd started teaching me about her world—the kingdoms, the guilds, the politics. In return, I taught her about runic theory that predated human civilization.
Elara trained. Relentlessly. The Purgatory's strange gravity made her stronger, faster. She'd started incorporating the seals into her drills—dodging between them, using their light as distractions. When I watched her, she'd catch my eye and smile. A real smile. Not the strained politeness of the first days.
Kaia hunted. Every day, she brought back food. But she also brought back knowledge—the layout of the outer Purgatory, the behavior of its creatures, the way the terrain shifted. She was mapping our domain, preparing for something. I didn't ask what.
And Raine... Raine bloomed.
Without the pressure of the mission, without the weight of expectation, she became someone new. Someone who laughed. Someone who asked questions. Someone who sat beside me at night and talked about her village, her family, her dreams of being a real hero.
"You already are," I told her once.
She'd blushed so hard the fire seemed dim by comparison.
---
Day 10
The ritual outside reached its peak.
I felt it before they did—a tremor in the fabric between worlds. Alaric and his cultists, completing their preparations. Ready to harvest the souls they thought were already dead.
"They're moving," I said.
The four women gathered around me. No weapons drawn. No fear in their eyes. Just... readiness.
"What do we need to do?" Elara asked.
I looked at each of them in turn. Elara, who'd chosen trust over suspicion. Kaia, who'd chosen to stay despite every instinct. Liana, who'd chosen knowledge over ignorance. Raine, who'd chosen hope over despair.
They'd been sent here to die.
Instead, they'd found a home.
"Follow me," I said. "It's time to show your former mentor what happens when you underestimate the lock and the key."
The seals around us flared bright.
And for the first time in a thousand years, I smiled.
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