"What if there were no criminals in this world?"
"What if no one was poor or forced into desperation?"
These questions had barely arisen in my mind when suddenly the taste in my mouth turned bitter, like raw iron. In the next moment, a searing burn traveled from my throat to my mouth, and thick, red blood surged out. It felt as if I had swallowed a handful of sharp iron shards, which were peeling away my inner flesh with every passing second.
But the real hell was in my stomach. Five bullets... five pieces of searing death had embedded themselves into my lungs. With every breath, my broken ribs stabbed into my own insides like a dagger, triggering a wave of pain so intense it numbed my brain.
Is this my end?
I tried to breathe, but my lungs were filling with blood instead of air. Every time I tried to steady my heartbeat, a fresh fountain of blood erupted from my mouth. My brain felt like it was being fried in a furnace, the pain was so intense that I eventually stopped feeling it altogether.
"Mom... Dad... please forgive me!"
Warm tears flowed from my eyes and mingled with my blood-stained face. These were not tears of grief; they were tears of the defeat I was accepting today before my enemies. Slowly, the light began to drift away from me. It felt as if someone was pushing me very rapidly into a dark well, snatching away my power of sight.
Forgive me... because your son failed!
My eyes were beginning to close, but then... a hazy light broke through the darkness.
The pain suddenly vanished. That iron-like stench of blood was now gone. In its place, I began to smell the scent of earthy soil and freshly made *rotis.
I saw that I was sitting in that same old courtyard. The sunlight was soft, and birds were chirping. Father was sitting in front of me; his face was full of exhaustion, but his eyes held that same old spark for me. He stroked my head with his rough hands and looked toward Mom with a smile.
"Look, our Rudra has grown so much," his voice was so clear, it felt like he was whispering right into my ear.
Mother walked out of the kitchen, an old plate in her hands. She wiped her sweat with her veil and sat beside me. "He might have grown up, but he'll still eat from my hands today," she laughed, breaking a morsel of food and bringing it to my lips.
That one bite... the taste was so real that for a second, I forgot I was on the brink of death. My mother's love and my father's faith...
But just as I opened my mouth to eat, my mother's face began to blur. My father's laughter slowly turned into an eerie silence. The soft sunlight of the courtyard was being swallowed by a deep, black shadow.
"Mom! Dad! Wait!" I tried to scream, but my voice failed me.
The beautiful memory shattered like glass. The light vanished. My mother's hand slipped from my head, and I fell back into the cold, filthy pool of blood. Now, there was no Mom, no Dad... only an eternal, black darkness.
Rudra's final breath had left his body. The last, tired beat of his heart went silent forever. There was no more pain, no more screams, and no more of death's horrific agony. There was only an infinite darkness, a silence that felt centuries old.
It felt as though Rudra was lying on a bed of ice, where time had stopped. But then, he opened his eyes.
"Huh!"
He looked from left to right, but there was nothing except the black void. But as he moved his hand, his eyes widened in shock. His own body was glowing like shimmering glass. In that world of darkness, Rudra himself had become a source of light.
"Is this... hell?" he whispered softly.
Rudra tried to stand, but every part of his body felt as if it were made of ancient iron. His head felt so heavy, as if someone had placed an entire mountain on him.
"Aah! My head...!"
His voice echoed thousands of times in that silent void, like an old well. When he looked down, his astonishment knew no bounds. He was not sitting on the ground, but rather on a liquid or water-like surface, where every movement of his was creating blue ripples.
He was just about to stumble to his feet when, far off in the darkness, he saw a hazy, tiny light shimmering. That light was like a ray of hope in that darkness, but there was something in it that was terrifying Rudra to his core.
Rudra narrowed his eyes and tried to recognize that shimmering, hazy light in the distance. That light was still like a mere spot, but as it grew larger, an unknown fear began to grow in Rudra's chest. His spiritual heartbeat quickened. That light was not some wandering ray. It was moving right toward Rudra.
"What... what is that?" he gasped, trying in vain to calm his breathing.
The light was close enough now for its true form to emerge. A ragged, wooden boat appeared through the shadows. Standing on it was a figure, an old man with white hair so long and thick that it covered his entire face like a veil.
In one hand, he held an old lantern, its red flame burning like a searing fire. When that sinister red light hit the old man's white form, it created a haunting sight. But the most terrifying part was yet to come.
As the red light of the lantern hit the water below, the black liquid suddenly turned thick and crimson. Right before Rudra's eyes, the place had turned into a river of blood. It looked as if the old man was rowing through blood to reach him.
Terrified, Rudra immediately checked his hand where he was sitting. To his surprise, the red water wasn't wetting his body. He was perfectly dry. The blood was just a shadow... or perhaps, a warning.
The old man brought his boat to a halt right in front of Rudra. The silence was so heavy that Rudra could hear the oil burning inside the lantern. The red glow spread everywhere, lighting up the void like a sun in a graveyard. Finally, the mysterious old man slowly raised his head.
"So, a new human has arrived!"
His voice sounded like dry wood snapping. As he lifted his head, the thick white hair parted slightly, revealing a single eye, an eye that glowed red like a burning coal, casting a demonic light into the darkness.
Rudra's body began to shiver, not from cold, but from pure dread. His hair stood on end. He tried to scramble backward, but seeing his reaction, the old man burst into laughter.
"Hehehehe..."
The laughter echoed across the silent river like a nightmare. "Do not fear, human!" he said, though his voice sounded more like a threat than a comfort.
Then, he reached out his left hand. It didn't look human. It was the hand of a thousand-year-old skeleton with black, rotting skin clinging to the bone. His nails were long and twisted, filled with the filth of centuries. It looked like a hand that had clawed its way out of the depths of death.
Disgusted and terrified, Rudra backed away even further. He still didn't know if he was alive or dead, or if this place was a dream or reality.
Finding some courage, he asked in a trembling voice, "Who... who are you?"
The energy radiating from the old man was so intense that Rudra felt like he was suffocating. It felt as if he would shatter if he spoke one more word. A strange, unknown fear tightened the nerves in his brain like hot iron, making his head throb with pain.
Then, the old man moved to step out of his small wooden boat. Until now, he had been sitting with his legs folded, making him look like a small dwarf. But as he stood up to his full height, Rudra's eyes nearly popped out.
He wouldn't stop growing. The old man stretched upwards until he towered over Rudra like a massive, golden pillar. As he stood, his white hair, which had been touching the ground, now only reached his knees. Rudra was nothing more than a tiny insect before him now.
The massive figure tore through the silence with his heavy, thundering voice.
"Hmm... you must be afraid."
That same horrific laughter erupted again.
"Hehehe... as you should be! For I am the King of this eternal darkness... KAAL."
As he spoke, the crimson water of the river began to boil, as if there was a demonic power in the very name. Rudra's breath hitched, this was no ordinary ghost or spirit. He was standing before the physical manifestation of Death itself.