Did I die?
The thought, forlorn and distant, echoed in his mind, his senses slowly returning from a numbing void. An unfamiliar sensation, a twisted parody of pleasure, rippled through his veins, a fleeting moment of deceptive peace. Then, with a monumental effort, his heavy eyelids parted.
The world swam before him, a kaleidoscope of blurred shapes as his eyes struggled to focus. A dark, indistinct figure loomed nearby, slowly unfurling as he fought to sit up. It was a decaying female form, its lower body crushed by some unknown force. Empty sockets stared back at him, the face caked in dried blood and a viscous mass of indeterminate origin. Tangled hair, matted and foul, obscured what remained of the skull, parts of which seemed to have been ripped away, revealing a brain that pulsed as it...was sucking away at his…
Shit!
His eyes snapped open. Disgusted, he lashed out, his leg connecting with the wraith-like abomination. His foot sank into the remnants of its skull, dislodging a massive, writhing worm that fell to the ground with a sickening thud. He recoiled in horror, pulling his leg back, as the wraith looked up at him, a lewd grin twisting its dripping lips.
Damn it!
His hair stood on end, and he scrambled to his feet, only then allowing his gaze to sweep across the surroundings. He froze, the weight of the environment crashing over him like a tidal wave.
"Oh... my... god."
The words escaped his lips in a silent whisper. As far as the eye could see, repulsive wraiths writhed in a grotesque parody of life, engaged in abominable acts.
A particularly repellent group crowded around female wraiths, impaling their decaying bodies with their brittle, pathetic manhood . Some feverishly clawed at breasts that offered no resistance, the rotting skin peeling away and crumbling under their bony grips. Strangely, the wraiths being assaulted offered no protest, if anything, they even seemed to be enjoying it, if the nasty grin on their saggy faces was any indication. In the distance, others fought, gouging out eyes and devouring them as if they were the finest delicacies. Still others had developed a perverse affection for rotting nether regions, sinking their teeth into the decaying flesh.
His stomach clenched, bile rising in his throat. If he could have vomited, he would have emptied his insides.
Suddenly, he noticed a lone figure standing nearby, it's gaze distant. The figure seemed...normal, somehow distinct from the surrounding horrors, it's flesh was still relatively normal and untainted. With hesitant steps, he approached, the figure's hair obscuring its face.
"Hello? Please, do you know where this is?" His voice trembled.
The figure remained motionless, as if the question had passed through it. He drew closer, reaching out and tapping its shoulder. Immediately, something grasped his leg, and he kicked out in terror, a writhing wraith flailing away.
He steadied his breath and looked back at the lone figure, who was now turning to face him. When he saw its face, his blood turned to ice.
The figure's face was morphing, shifting into the grotesque visage of the surrounding wraiths. Both eyes detached, sliding down its cheeks, revealing the silhouette of a worm devouring its head from within.
The figure's jaw moved, and he thought he heard a whisper, barely audible above the cacophony of depravity:
"Our sins…easily beset us."
Driven by pure instinct, he followed the figure's gaze.
He shuddered, the weight of existence pressing down upon him, threatening to crush him.
Before him, a gigantic skeletal figure sat enthroned atop a mountain of bones. Its head towered above the dark, stormy clouds, dwarfing the world itself. Its aura seemed to suck the moisture from the air, making him feel utterly insignificant, unworthy to stand before such a being. He crumpled to his knees, his mind fracturing. After what felt like an eternity or perhaps a second, he understood.
They were naked, all of them, before this thing. Not just physically, but stripped bare beyond the reach of the mundane. Its abysmal, hollow eyes judged them, counted their sins, declaring them unworthy.
Hell…I'm in hell.
The realization crashed down, and he felt his body begin to lose shape, to rot.
This is the end, isn't it? The death I wanted is finally here. Sweet…solace.
Then, something unexpected occurred, the gigantic abomination of bones stirred.
His rotting eyes must be deceiving him. Was it even possible for something that immense to move?
But it happened again. Its jaw creaked open, and a voice, mighty and ancient, wielding finality like an absolute law, enveloped the world.
"ANOTHER OBSTINATE MORTAL, REFUSING TO DIE!"
He gazed up at the skeletal behemoth, and a courage he never knew he possessed surged within him. He replied to the skeletal behemoth.
"I want to die!"
In response, a cold, heavy arm fell across his shoulders, buckling his knees. A soothing voice followed, a stark contrast to the desolation.
"That should be for me, buddy. I don't think that pile of bones will ever be humble enough to address you."
His head jerked back in terror, only to meet a face beaming with unsettling cheerfulness. The man looked utterly out of place in that hellscape, like a mote of flame in absolute darkness.
As the man walked forward, he finally took in his figure in all its harrowing glory. Despite the friendly gaze, a very convincing facade, he exuded an aura of absolute lethality, something similar to but vastly different from the aura of the skeleton.
His long hair flowed like molten gold. Both of his arms, up to the shoulders, were forged wholly from gold, or perhaps plated in it. Either way, he staggered slightly as he walked, as if struggling under the weight of both limbs. Only his groin was draped in fine silk; his torso was bare, muscles bulging and rippling with latent power.
The man looked up, eyes locking with those of the skeleton. They seemed to engage in a silent, cryptic conversation. Then, the skeleton stirred.
Big as it was, it stood, its movements deceptively slow owing to its size. In reality, it was anything but.
It pulled a giant mace, adorned with pulsing purple crystals, from the pile of bones it sat upon. The appearance of the mace summoned a jagged lightning bolt that cracked across the sky in dark glee, illuminating the horrors with grotesque clarity.
Still on his knees, he felt the world was about to end.
In the gigantic skeleton's grip, the mace moved with frightening speed and power, brushing against the fabric of the world, distorting space as it hurtled down, hoping to crush the man. But it was of no use against the man in gold.
The man in gold moved like a golden meteor towards the skeleton's head, swift and decisive. With one of his golden fists, he burst through it, unleashing an ineffable surge of power that rolled outward, flattening legions of wraiths.
The skeleton, big as it was, crumbled to the ground right in front of him, obscuring the world in a dust cloud and crushing thousands of wraiths into paste. An abysmal orb rolled out of a crack in its skull, small, but it seemed bigger than the realm itself. He who knelt felt an intense, all-consuming desire to possess the orb, to have it all to himself. He would give even his life for it. The pressing need mounted, becoming unbearable.
Lust...The feeling was lust.
He mustered a last surge of strength, lunged towards the orb, beating the other wraiths to it, and picked it up and swallowed it.
The cry of the man in gold was the last thing he heard before the world dissolved into blankness.