Survive the abyss

Mikhael slowly walked out of his now-destroyed house. Other than his father, he had seen no one else.

He let out an exhausted sigh, brushing his hair back. "I guess I just have to wait till this nightmare is over."

"Welcome to the Abyss." Hel's voice resounded as the scene around him shifted.

The ruins of his house vanished, replaced by the desperate cries that filled the air. A dark sky loomed above, engulfing the place in shadows, while a sea of fire burned in the distance.

Mikhael suddenly felt a strong grasp on his ankle, making him glance down. "THE…F**K!!" He instantly jolted away, breaking free from the grip.

A sickly hand, burnt and bruised, clung to the edge of the cliff. Mikhael gasped, stumbling backward, his throat dry as he gulped. "What the hell… is happening?" he mumbled under his breath as more hands began to emerge.

WHOOSH!

THUMP!

As if corpse-like hands weren't enough of a nightmare, Mikhael could only plop onto the ground, frozen in place. His eyes locked onto the beastly creature before him, its rotting stench filling his lungs. Its glowing eyes ignored him, instead focusing on the corpse hands below.

Taking the opportunity, Mikhael tried to run. "Wake up… wake up… wake up…"

"GRAAAHHHH!"

An earth-shattering bellow filled the atmosphere, causing Mikhael to lose his balance and fall onto the ashen ground. That was when he finally noticed the terrain beneath him—molten rock and skeletal remains jutting out from the depths.

"AHH!" Mikhael could no longer scream. His hands hovered above the ground, trying not to touch it.

"So, you are the new Grim Reaper." A young female voice called out.

"What's your name?" A small girl with red bobbed hair suddenly appeared in front of him.

Mikhael was further stunned by the absurdity of his dream. "I really need to wake up."

"Oi, Nidh! I think he's broken," the girl said, turning in another direction.

"Stop bullying him. Hela wants to train him to be her personal servant." The beast transformed into a humanoid figure, walking toward Mikhael.

Mikhael glanced between them. "This is f**king absurd."

"I see you have already met your co-workers," Hel's familiar voice rang out once again.

Mikhael stood up, scanning his surroundings. Hel stood a few feet away. Other than a black veil hiding her face, she looked the same as before.

"Hela," the unfamiliar girl and the now-human dragon kneeled before her.

"Ratatoskr." Hel remained calm, her staff planted firmly at the center of her stance, hands resting on top of it.

"Y-Yes," the young girl stammered nervously in response.

"What did I tell you about entering the Abyss, especially the Corpse Shore?" Hel's voice was still calm and composed.

"It's my fault, Hela. She came to deliver a rune, and the Corpse Hands started reaching out, trying to grab him," Nidhogg admitted, casting a quick glance toward Mikhael before lowering his head.

Hel remained silent, slowly strolling up to Nidhogg. "Corpse Meat, is your job becoming difficult for you?" She tapped the other end of her staff against his forehead. "Leaving the Shore to feud with that damn eagle isn't in your job description, is it?" she inquired, her tone ever so composed.

"I apologize. It won't happen again. I accept any punishment you have for me," Nidhogg responded, keeping his head lowered.

After a moment of silence, Hel burst out laughing. "Corpse Meat, don't act so nervous. The new one might think I'm cruel." She waved her hand dismissively before turning toward Mikhael. Nidhogg and Ratatoskr followed her gaze.

Mikhael, who had been silently observing, could only gulp in fear. A dragon, the literal goddess of Hel, and the mythological squirrel turned into a girl—what kind of weird shit had he read to dream of this?

"Still clinging to the dream idea?" Hel's question caught him off guard. He sensed the looming danger in her words. Taking a step back, he prayed he would wake up from this nightmare or somehow escape this hell.

In a blink, Hel grabbed his collar and dragged him toward the shore.

"WAIT—WAIT—NO-NO-NO—" Mikhael struggled, but it was futile. His feet barely touched the ground as she hauled him forward.

"OH-OH-OH"

As they neared the shore, Mikhael clung desperately to her arm.

Hel stopped at the cliff's edge. Mikhael instinctively tried to step away, only for Hel to tighten her grip on his collar, pushing him forward until his feet were nearly dangling over the abyss.

The howling cries pierced his ears. The sickly corpse hands clawed at the cliff, endlessly trying to climb up. Mikhael couldn't see the bottom, nor did he have any interest in finding out.

"This is not a dream. Listen closely to those cries. Do they sound like dreams to you?" Hel inquired, her grip firm on his shoulder.

Mikhael's breath quickened, his hands still clutching her arm. "Look at you, fearing your own kind," Hel continued. "Those cries belong to none other than pests like you—murderers, adulterers, criminals… And people like you, who turned a blind eye to another's suffering."

Mikhael never imagined that the price of selfishness could be this high. Where was justice when his so-called father wished for his death every day?

"Want to escape this place?" Hel leaned closer, whispering in his ear.

Mikhael's expression remained blank. Making a deal with the daughter of the Trickster was never simple. This had been a trap from the beginning—from her asking him to kill his father to him ending up on this cliff.

"What do you want?" he asked directly. Dream or not, if this was a game, he would survive.

Hel chuckled at his determined look before releasing him from the edge. Mikhael instantly stepped back, gasping for breath.

"I'll be honest with you. You are Death's son."

"The… what?"

"Death. The lowly slave you compared me to earlier. He ferries souls from the living world to their destined afterlife. Once every eclipse, Death chooses his heir to continue his work. This time, it's you."

Mikhael was speechless. Even at the end of his life, he had no intention of becoming a servant, let alone a Grim Reaper.

"You will be appointed as the new Grim Reaper at the next moonrise. You get one rest day a year, one meal a day. Any questions?"

Now, Mikhael was certain—in a hundred lifetimes, he would never choose this.

"Uhh…"

"If you refuse, you can join your kind," Hel continued, gesturing toward the cliff.

"What will you choose? The Grim Reaper… or the Shore?" she asked, stepping closer.

"I—I…" Mikhael backed away, struggling to find an escape.

"Too slow." Without letting him finish, Hel struck him with her staff and pushed him off the cliff.

"WAITT!!!" Mikhael's scream echoed as he plummeted.

"Better survive the Abyss."