Chapter 31 – Realm of Black Immortality

The air was thick with stagnation. A suffocating twilight hung over the land like a curse, smothering the realm in a constant state of decay. No sun pierced the sky, no moon graced the heavens — only the dying stars remained, their light so faint that it barely touched the ground. This was the Realm of Black Immortality, a place where the very essence of life had been consumed by eternity's refusal to end. There was no rebirth here, no cycles of life and death. Only stagnation. Only decay.

Rin Xie stood alone in the Valley of Unbirth, his form seemingly impervious to the weight of this world. He felt no wind, no warmth, no cold — only an overwhelming silence that pressed against his skin. His footsteps disturbed the blackened soil beneath him, the land itself crumbling at the touch. Around him, the remnants of what once were souls — now nothing more than wandering fragments of memories — moved aimlessly, caught between oblivion and existence. They were souls that had escaped reincarnation, souls that refused to die. Souls like him, yet unlike him.

As Rin surveyed the valley, he saw nothing but broken echoes of forgotten lives. Some wandered aimlessly, their bodies half-finished or skeletal, others kneeling in prayer to nothingness, their pleas unheard. They were lost, not to death, but to the refusal of it. A horrifying kind of immortality, where time had become irrelevant, and eternity was not a blessing, but a curse. To be free of the cycle was to embrace endless wandering. To be free from the heavens was to be cursed to never end.

In the distance, something caught his attention. A figure — an old man, hunched and frail, his body decaying as though the very flesh of him was being consumed by time itself. Despite the rot that consumed his being, there was an undeniable aura of power around him. A wretched energy, like the smoldering remnants of a long-dead fire. This man was not merely alive — he was a relic, an immortal who had failed to ascend, who had instead chosen to rot in the deepest pits of existence.

The figure turned slowly toward Rin, his eyes hollow yet brimming with dark understanding.

"You have arrived, Endborne Seed," the hermit said, his voice raspy, yet commanding. His lips barely moved as he spoke, as if even sound was too much for him. "You who have become more than death. You who no longer fear it. But you do not know the cost of your ascension. Not here. Not in this realm."

Rin stepped forward, drawn by the strange pull of the hermit's words. "Endborne Seed," he echoed. "What is that?"

The hermit's laugh was a dry rasp, a sound like cracking bones. "It is what you are, boy. A seed of death yet to sprout fully. In this realm, death is more than a concept. It is currency, but life—life is the poison that holds this place together. Here, we were the ones who refused to die, who believed immortality could give us power. But in doing so, we forsook the very essence of death."

Rin's brow furrowed. He had long since transcended the need for life, yet this hermit spoke of something he had never fully understood: immortality without purpose. A hollow eternity.

"You speak of immortality like a curse," Rin said, his voice steady despite the unease that crept into his chest. "But I have been through death more times than I can count. I have seen its forms. I have forged it. What is it about this place that frightens you so?"

The hermit's eyes darkened, a faint glow flickering in the black depths. "You are not yet one of us, Endborne. You have not yet tasted the true nature of what it means to live forever without purpose. It is not the agony of death you will face here. It is the slow withering of the soul. The decay of all things meaningful. We were once celestials, once gods. But we could not accept the end, and now we are nothing but empty vessels."

The hermit's body seemed to disintegrate further as he spoke, his flesh falling away in chunks like rotted wood, revealing the bare bones beneath. Yet still, he spoke, the raw power of his voice unwavering, as if the decay of his body only made him more potent.

"This realm, boy," the hermit continued, "was born from the refusal of death. A place where immortality reigns, and time ceases to exist. Those who enter here, those who are fortunate or cursed enough to arrive, are not bound by time. They are bound only by memory. For without death, there is no change. Without change, there is nothing."

Rin's thoughts raced. A place where memory governed, where time had no meaning — what was this realm but the embodiment of all his fears? A place where immortality was a punishment, a prison where there was no escape. The heavens had enslaved gods with the promise of immortality. But here, immortality was no gift. It was decay.

The hermit's voice became softer, more contemplative. "I see it in your eyes. You think you've transcended. But you don't know what it means to transcend fully. You've escaped death, but you haven't truly let go of life."

Rin felt a pang deep in his chest, the words slicing through his thoughts like a blade. He had escaped death, yes, but in doing so, had he embraced something worse? The endless torment of being caught between worlds, unable to move forward or backward, unable to let go? Was this truly the fate he sought? To be like these ancient, decaying immortals — forever in a state of stagnation, forever in a limbo where no purpose could be found?

The hermit raised a hand, and the blackened sky above them trembled. "Here, death is currency, and those who master it rule. But know this: those who truly refuse to die, who escape the cycles, who think themselves free from the heavens — they are the ones who become the rot. They are the ones who decay in mind and body. Their immortality becomes a prison."

Rin stared at the hermit, at the rotting body, the decaying soul. And for the first time in his long journey, he understood. Immortality, true immortality, was not a blessing. It was the denial of death. It was a refusal to accept the natural order of things. And in doing so, one became a mockery of life. A broken, empty thing, caught between the worlds of the living and the dead.

He turned away from the hermit, his gaze sweeping over the desolate valley. The Valley of Unbirth. A place where souls wandered, lost in their endless yearning for release. It was a fate Rin would not accept.

"I do not fear death," Rin said, his voice firm. "But I will not become like you."

The hermit's hollow eyes glowed brighter. "You will, Endborne. You will. Because there is no escape from this realm. And when you finally see the truth of it, you will understand that there is nothing else left to do but embrace the rot."

With a final look, Rin stepped forward, leaving the hermit behind. He could feel the weight of the realm pressing down on him, the silent, suffocating atmosphere wrapping around him like a second skin. But he was no longer afraid. He had seen the depths of death. He had seen the torment of immortality. And he would not let this place claim him.

As he walked, he felt the pull of the memories, the weight of the souls trapped in this realm. But now, he understood. Death was not the end, nor was it the beginning. It was simply a part of the cycle. And only through accepting it — fully — could one transcend. But to transcend meant rejecting the lies of the heavens. It meant embracing death as freedom, not as a curse.

The hermit's words echoed in his mind, but they no longer held power over him. Rin had already made his choice.

And his choice was not to remain in this realm of black immortality.

He would transcend.

And with that thought, he stepped forward, into the heart of the Valley of Unbirth, toward his final trial.

To be continued…