Chapter 22 – The Land That Cannot Die

Rin's feet touched the earth, but the ground beneath him felt wrong—alive in a way that was unnatural. It pulsed like a living thing, its heartbeat echoing in the distance, as if the land itself was somehow aware of his presence. The air was thick with the scent of iron and despair, and the sky above was an oppressive shade of crimson, as if the heavens themselves bled.

This was the Realm of Bleeding Heaven.

It was a place where death had been subverted, twisted, and forced into something grotesque. The land itself seemed to shimmer with an eternal suffering, a cruel paradox that chained mortals in a never-ending cycle of agony. This was no paradise, nor was it a realm of bliss. It was a land where mortals could not die, no matter the wounds inflicted upon them. The divine curse had seen to that.

The moment Rin arrived, he felt the weight of the curse press against him—an invisible force that seemed to permeate everything. He could hear the cries of the suffering before he even saw them, faint whispers carried by the wind, each voice cracking with the weight of centuries of torment.

He turned his gaze toward the battlefield ahead, where figures were locked in endless combat. Their bodies were torn, bloodied, and broken, but they were still fighting, still struggling against an invisible force. And when they fell, their wounds healed in an instant. Limbs that had been severed grew back, skin that had been shredded regenerated as if it had never been harmed.

But their faces—those were the worst part.

They were twisted in anguish, eyes wide with silent screams. These were not warriors who reveled in battle. These were souls trapped in an eternal torment, bound by the curse of immortality.

Rin's heart twisted in his chest.

The heavens had done this.

This was no battlefield for glory. It was a prison for those who had dared defy divine orders, who had rebelled against fate itself. The immortality bestowed upon them was not a gift but a cruel punishment. To never die, to never be free from pain, to be forever caught in the cycle of suffering without release. Heaven had twisted death into something that was never meant to be. The heavens saw mercy in this torment—saw beauty in the agony of unending life.

As he stepped forward, a figure approached him. A man, or what had once been a man. His face was gaunt, hollow, and his body was little more than a patchwork of scars and regeneration. His eyes, however, were clear—a stark contrast to the horror of his form.

"Please," the man's voice cracked. "End it. End it now."

Rin stared at him, feeling the depth of his pain. He was not alone. There were countless others like him, scattered across the field, each of them crying out for release, for true death. This man had been caught in the cycle for eons, his body constantly repaired, his wounds ever-fresh, his spirit slowly eroding beneath the weight of endless suffering.

"What happened to you?" Rin asked, his voice quiet, though the words felt heavy on his tongue.

"We defied the heavens," the man rasped, his voice a broken whisper. "We sought immortality, but we were cursed instead. This... this is the price. To live forever, yet never to be truly alive."

Rin felt the gnawing disgust in his gut. He had known suffering—he had known pain—but this... this was something beyond his comprehension. To be denied death, to be forced to endure endless agony, it was a fate far worse than anything he had encountered before.

"I can help you," Rin said softly, stepping closer.

The man's eyes flickered with hope, but it was quickly replaced by the despair of knowing that hope was fleeting. "No... you cannot. No one can. Not here."

Rin hesitated, a spark of defiance lighting within him. He had transcended death, become it himself, and yet he had never imagined a fate like this. The power of death—his death, his core—had always been one of release, of freedom, of finality. To see it perverted into something so cruel sickened him.

"No," Rin said firmly, stepping forward. "I can."

With a swift movement, Rin reached out and placed his hand over the man's heart. His fingers glowed faintly, a dark light that pulsed with the power of his Death Core. He could feel the man's life force, the endless cycle of regeneration that had kept him alive through thousands of wounds, thousands of deaths that never came. Rin focused, narrowing his awareness to the concept of release—the true nature of death as it was meant to be.

The moment his hand touched the man's chest, there was a soft crackle, and the regeneration slowed. The man's body grew still, his chest no longer rising and falling with the cycle of life and death. His eyes, still wide with desperation, slowly closed, and his body went limp in Rin's grasp.

It was done.

The man was free.

Rin stepped back, a strange emptiness settling within him. He could feel the weight of the concept he had absorbed, a new understanding of death blossoming within his core. Merciful Ending. A technique that allowed one to end the curse of eternal regeneration, to grant a true death to those who were trapped in an endless cycle of torment. It was a gift, yes, but it was also a burden. He would carry this knowledge with him, and every life he would touch hereafter would carry the weight of his actions.

But before he could contemplate the implications of this new ability, a shadow loomed over him.

The air grew cold, a sudden drop in temperature that made the very ground tremble. Rin turned, his senses flaring as a towering figure approached—a celestial warrior clad in ornate armor, his face impassive, his eyes glowing with divine light. The man was a giant, at least ten feet tall, and his very presence radiated power. This was no ordinary being.

The celestial guardian of this land.

General Yao the Deathless.

"You have broken the law of the heavens," Yao's voice boomed, deep and unyielding, like thunder crashing through the skies. "You have granted them release—an act of mercy that is forbidden here."

Rin met his gaze with cold resolve. "Mercy is never forbidden. It is only denied by those who fear it."

Yao's eyes flickered with a strange mix of wrath and pity. "You will regret this, mortal. You cannot escape the divine will of the heavens. You will join them—join the ranks of the tormented—and feel the curse of eternal life."

A deadly silence fell between them, broken only by the distant cries of the warriors still caught in their endless battles. Rin's hand curled into a fist, the power of his Death Core thrumming beneath his skin. He had transcended. He had become death itself. He would not bow before the heavens, nor would he submit to their twisted version of mercy.

"I am already dead," Rin said, his voice a quiet snarl, "and I refuse to live for you."

Yao's weapon—a massive sword of celestial metal—was raised high. With a roar, he swung it toward Rin, but the blade was met with the pulse of Rin's Death Core, a burst of power that sent a shockwave through the air.

"You can never stop me," Rin said, stepping forward, his form becoming a blur of darkness and death.

The celestial guardian would fall. And so would the heavens.

This land, this Realm of Bleeding Heaven, would know the true meaning of release.

The battle had begun.

To be continued…