Between Heaven and Hell, I chose HELL

[TIMER — 00:57:37]

Pressure built behind his eyes, like something was squeezing his head tighter and tighter.

His chest felt like it was being crushed. Like invisible hands were wrapping around his ribs and pressing in.

[TIMER — 00:57:32]

He stumbled back a step.

His vision dimmed around the edges. A sharp, buzzing pain hit the back of his head, like someone had jabbed a needle of noise into his brain.

[TIMER — 00:57:17]

He sucked in a breath.

Not from fear. But from pain.

This wasn't just a countdown.

The System was already punishing him.

And it wasn't going to wait.

***

Someone once told me a story about life.

I don't remember who they were. Their name, their face, it's all gone now. But their voice stuck with me. Rough, tired. Like someone who had lived too long and seen too much.

We were sitting on top of an old parking garage. The city had gone to sleep around us. Just flickering windows and quiet hums. And they said;

"Life is like a house on fire."

That, I vividly remember.

At the time, I thought it was a joke. I gave them that dry stare I always gave when someone tried to wax poetic. But they just kept going, eyes on the clouds.

"You start with all this structure. All of this wood and framework and steel. And for a while, it's whole. But slowly, life sets it alight. Regret, grief, time… it all lights the match. And you try to put it out, try to save what you can. But you can't save the whole thing. It'll burn. Because that's what it does."

I remember asking them why we bother building anything if it's all just going to fall apart in the end.

They shrugged and said, "Because for a while… you get to live in it."

That stuck with me.

***

Now here I am, standing out in the open, watching a Centurion in the distance. The machine doesn't move, not yet, but I know it's watching. Waiting. I know what it can do.

I wonder, not for the first time, what it'd feel like. Not pain... No. I've felt pain. Pain is manageable. Pain is old news.

I mean the quiet that would come after.

No more System. No more orders. No more waking up cold, sore, unsure if you're going to make it through the hour.

I think about stepping forward. Just one step. That's all it would take. No struggle. No chase.

One step.

Let them take me.

Let the metal arms clamp down

Let them erase me. Lock me away. Or just finish it.

It wouldn't hurt for long.

Let them 'burn' the last of the house down.

'Wouldn't that be mercy?'

There's a voice in my head that keeps whispering.

Do it. Just walk. You're tired. This won't end any other way.

You've hurt people. You've killed people. They'll never forgive you. And you don't deserve it.

They'll all see what you are eventually. Let them stop you before that happens.

I don't argue with the voice. Not really. Because deep down… it makes sense.

The System in my head is buzzing again. A countdown I can't turn off. Numbers ticking down toward something I don't even understand.

Another objective. Another target. Another disaster.

I'm just a machine with a soul jammed inside. . .

No home. No control. No peace.

So maybe I should stop running.

Just step into the light and let them do what they came here to do.

Maybe that's the closest thing to freedom I'll ever get.

Then, like a crack in the wall of thought—

I hear something. Laughter.

Somewhere off to the side. Not cruel laughter. Not a mocking kind of laughter. Just… bright.

Alive.

I turn my head slightly and see Orenji. His voice cuts through the fog in my brain. He's talking to someone. Probably joking. Probably waving his hands in the usual way he does, like he can bend the air around his words to make people listen.

He's real. A little too real. Too warm for a world like this.

I barely know him. But that's the problem. Even that small flicker of light feels too much to carry.

He doesn't know what I am. Not really. He doesn't know the full truth about me. Not yet. He still looks at me like I'm… normal. Like I'm a person. Like I matter.

And I don't know why that hits me so hard.

I mean, it shouldn't though.

It shouldn't matter.

But it does.

Maybe because I want it to be true.

And when he finds out, when he sees what happens when The System activates, when the world starts treating me like what it thinks I am. . . he'll run. He'll run eventually. Or worse, he won't. And he'll get hurt.

They always do.

Another second ticks.

[TIMER — 00:53:08]

I close my eyes.

The person on the rooftop…

I think they knew what was coming for them. Maybe not in a detailed way. But I think they knew the fire was catching up. And they wanted me to understand something before it got to me too.

"One day," they said, "we're all going to die. Humans, I mean. Maybe we'll nuke ourselves, or the sun'll blow, or the air'll rot so bad nothing lives. But we're all gonna go. That's the nature of things."

"Then why fight?" I asked them.

They looked over. Their eyes weren't sad. Just steady.

"Because it matters what kind of story we leave in the ashes."

I exhale.

***

Kael exhaled not because it helped. But because it was something to do.

He stepped forward.

Just one foot. Onto the main street. The Centurion shifted slightly, its scanners sweeping toward him. One more step and it would likely activate. Lock on. End this.

But something held him.

Not fear.

Not hope, either.

Something in between.

A tiny voice that said: You still have a choice.

Her voice.

"God d*mn it," he muttered.

Kael turned his head.

Orenji was still talking to someone, spinning that red ball in his hand like the world wasn't falling apart. Oblivious. Smiling. Alive. No idea how close Kael had come to stepping into silence.

Something inside him gave way, like a rusted chain snapping under too much pressure.

Not yet.

Not today.

***

"Let's go," Kael blurted out, quick and sharp, no time to think. Just focused solely on moving.

Orenji blinked, thrown off. "Kael? You okay?"

Kael didn't answer. He just kept walking.

Orenji frowned, taking a hesitant step back. "Wait, what are you—"

Before he could finish, Kael reached out and grabbed his arm, yanking him forward with more force than intended. His face, pale and unreadable, looked less like someone returning and more like someone barely here.

Or maybe like someone crawling out of their own grave.

"Wait, what? We're going to play?" Orenji asked, confused, glancing toward the field.

Kael didn't respond.

He just moved.

Just… forward.

Toward the laughter. Toward the game. Toward the chaos of kids who hadn't yet been hunted by countdowns or punished by systems.

Toward the burning house of the living.

In other words—

Toward Hell.

And he didn't know why.

It wasn't rational. It wasn't hopeful. It wasn't even safe.

But he walked anyway.

Whatever it took to keep the fire at bay for one more day.

And behind his eyes, The System kept ticking.

[TIMER — 00:52:49]

But he wasn't listening anymore.

Not right now.

Because even Hell has an exit wound where the light leaks in.

And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.

< Chapter Eight > Fin.