Hell

Everything had vanished.

And a thick, suffocating darkness swallowed Alex whole.

His breath hitched slightly as he turned in place.

His fists clenched.

There was nothing around.

Not a floor beneath his feet. Not a wall to touch. Just an endless void, black as the abyss.

It reminded him of the white space where he first met Oracle—except this felt... heavier.

Then a voice boomed, shaking the emptiness.

It came from everywhere. Nowhere. All at once.

It was the voice of the undead guide.

"Player 666, what is your image of hell?"

Alex's brow twitched.

What the hell kind of question was that?

His eyes darted around, scanning for anything—a shape, a ripple, a sign.

But the void stayed blank. Silent.

So he exhaled, kept his cool, and answered, tone casual—

"I dunno. Fire. Screams. Demons."

"Well," the voice chuckled, smooth and amused.