'Pain!'
A shriek of pure agony tore from Ariz's throat, chilling and raw. Excruciating pain consumed him; it felt as though his body was being ripped apart. His fists clenched so tightly his nails threatened to pierce his own palms. A sensation of weightlessness seized him, leaving him feeling adrift, utterly at the mercy of unseen forces. Gritting his teeth against the torment, Ariz slowly forced his eyes open, desperate to see his surroundings.
What he saw made him question if he had indeed descended into hell.
Scarlet mist swirled densely around him, shrouding everything in its crimson embrace. Below yawned an infinite abyss. He realized he was falling—a ceaseless plunge with no end in sight.
'So this is the first layer of hell? Not quite how the tales described it… Seems even death offers no respite from suffering.'
Suddenly, a gentle masculine voice began to sing. The melody washed over Ariz, miraculously dissolving his pain. Relief, profound and blissful, flooded through him—a feeling akin to salvation.
'Oh, I know this… this style… it must be a Slumber-Soul Ballad!'
As abruptly as it began, the song ceased. A resonant, majestic male voice boomed: "Soul… I, as the… invite you… to come to this… nay, return to this… world! But the condition is...… Will you accept?"
'What… soul... I am truly dead. But an invitation? A world? Conditions? Wait… I know he said them… but I forgot? How…?'
Then, uncontrollably, Ariz found himself speaking: "I…!"
The mighty voice spoke again, its words indistinct and muddled.
Instantly, agony exploded through Ariz's form anew. The surrounding mist convulsed into chaos. The metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils, making him shudder violently. His flesh began to writhe and even liquefy. This horrific transformation continued until something cold and vital seemed to detach itself slowly from his failing body.
Relief washed over Ariz. His flesh began its slow, painful reknitting. He suddenly realized: he had lost all control of his physical form. His eyes remained open, blankly staring upwards at the scarlet "sky."
The cold, vital object—now a silvery-blue artifact pulsing with blinding light—hovered above the still-falling Ariz. Its intense radiance stabbed directly into his eyes.
Abruptly, Ariz shot upwards. He was accelerating towards the light. Sounds assaulted him: the cacophony of a crowd, the distinct sobbing of someone, the sharp clack of determined footsteps.
Overwhelming weakness crashed over Ariz. His ears rang viciously; his mind fogged. He wanted only to rest, to sleep. He didn't understand what was happening, nor did he wish to. Countless images and fractured sounds swirled into incoherence, shattering his thoughts.
Darkness closed in. He plummeted into unconsciousness.
[The author here, I will rest for one day, guys. Thanks!]