The First Step into Hell

Raiyan had lost track of time. How long had it been since he fell into this abyss? Days? Hours? Did time even exist here? His body felt like it was being crushed by an unseen weight, every inch of movement a battle against exhaustion. But stopping was not an option.

The voice that had tormented him, that had pushed him to keep crawling forward, had gone silent. But its final command still echoed in his mind.

"Then crawl."

And so he did.

His fingers scraped against the jagged stone ground, leaving behind streaks of blood. His arms trembled, his legs barely responded, but he kept moving. Ahead, barely visible in the eternal darkness, was a faint glimmer—his sword. The only thing in this wretched world that belonged to him.

Behind him, the heavy chains rattled again, their sound reverberating through the void. Something was watching.

A deep chuckle rumbled through the darkness, slow and deliberate.

"Pathetic… but stubborn."

The same voice. The one that had mocked him, tested him, demanded more. He had no energy left to respond. Words were meaningless here. The only thing that mattered was survival.

His mind wandered despite himself. Why was he here? What was this place? He had died—he was certain of it. The memory of cold steel piercing his throat, the rush of blood, the fading lights of Osaka… it was real. But this? This wasn't the afterlife.

It was something far worse.

A realm where the weak were swallowed.

A place where only those who clawed their way forward had the right to exist.

And he had to keep moving.

The glimmer of his sword grew stronger, an anchor keeping him from drowning in despair. But just as his fingers stretched toward the hilt, a low growl filled the air.

He wasn't alone.

From the darkness, they emerged.

Crawling. Twisted figures. Shadows that vaguely resembled humans but moved like starving beasts. Their hollow eyes glowed faintly, empty yet filled with hunger.

Wretches.

That was the only word that came to mind. Things that once were human, but had lost themselves to this place.

And they were hungry.

One lunged. Raiyan barely had time to react. He rolled, his body screaming in protest as sharp claws raked against the ground where he had been a moment ago.

His vision spun. His body was weak. He could barely move.

Another one came, snarling, snapping. Raiyan tried to crawl away, but he wasn't fast enough. The creature's fingers wrapped around his ankle—cold, rotting. A corpse that refused to die.

Panic surged through him. He twisted, kicking wildly, his foot slamming into its hollow face. It reeled back, but another took its place.

Too many. There were too many.

The rattling chains grew louder. The voice, amused.

"Will you die here, weakling?"

No. No.

His hand shot forward, fingers grazing the hilt of his sword. Just a little more.

A wretch lunged, jaws unhinged, ready to tear into his flesh—

Raiyan grabbed his sword.

And then—

Light.

A blinding, searing pulse of energy burst from the blade, cutting through the darkness like lightning splitting the sky.

The wretches shrieked. Some were incinerated instantly, their hollow bodies unable to withstand the force. The others fled, crawling back into the shadows, screeching in agony.

Silence.

The darkness recoiled.

Raiyan lay there, chest heaving, his fingers gripping the hilt with everything he had. The sword—his sword—was real. Warm in his hands, familiar, like it had always been a part of him.

The deep voice rumbled again. But this time…

It wasn't laughing.

For the first time since Raiyan had arrived in this nightmare, the presence watching him grew silent.

And in that silence, Raiyan understood one thing.

He was not supposed to have survived.

To be continued…