The five souls sat in a loose circle, their shadows stretching long across the pale stone floor.
The armored one spoke, "I still remember the moment you arrived, you ran for the gates. Do you even remember? You moved like something was calling you."
A rasping chuckle came from the man in a long coat.
"And the statues came down on you like wolves. Never seen them that quick. Not for any of us."
"Tell us, Arthur… what did you do to make Purgatory spit you out like that?" Spoke the scholar. She was fascinated by Arthur, about how he fell from the skies of Purgatory, with a dramatic entrance for ages.
Arthur said nothing. His eyes never left the faraway light.
"He's not going to answer," the thin one muttered. "In all the years he's been here, we've heard nothing but his name."
"Because he's from somewhere else," the dragon-robed individual spoke. "Earth, he called it. Never heard a word about this world."
They shifted uncomfortably.
"Eternally damned," the starlight figure said at last, almost like a prayer. "There are six of us — only six in all of Purgatory. We don't die. We don't feel joy, rage, hunger… nothing. Just pain."
The jade-armored one threw a stone.
"We've tried breaking out. Every damned cycle. The guards always stop us before we've gone a fraction of the Path."
"And yet you keep staring at it, Arthur. Day after day. As if you expect it to open for you."
"Let him. A dream's the closest thing we get to hope here."
They turned back to their usual talk, the circle closing without him. Arthur listened, still staring at the distant shimmer.
The jade-armored one spoke, his tone light, almost conversational. "Thirty thousand people. I gave them three days to leave before I drowned the valley. They didn't believe me. Not one survived."
"You always waste your victims," the long-coated man replied lazily. "Fear needs to linger, not vanish with the body. When I culled three empires, the survivors carried the memory for generations, until they begged for extinction. I gave them what they wanted. I stripped every soul till they breathed, worked, birthed children — all without thought. I made an empire of puppets, each one smiling because I told them to.
"Whatever. I prefer something immediate," humphed the stralit figure. "Necromancy was always my favorite. The way they screamed when their children clawed free of the grave. It was poetry."
The dragon-robed one smiled faintly. "I broke continents with my sword. Oceans. Not for conquest or power. To see if I could. And I could."
The scholar's voice was a silk thread. "My sin was simpler. I poisoned my very continent. It was a poison so potent even I, the Alchemy Empress, died by it."
"What about it? Not like you wiped out the entire planet. People Survived."
"I don't know why we repeat these conversations again and again. I have lived for five million years, yet I am out of my memories."
Arthur understood little of their words. Cultivation realms? Soul-binding formations? The Thirteen Tomb Sutras? Million-Year Lifespans? Immortals?
The words and their logic were alien, but the scale of their cruelty was comprehensible. In all this, Arthur caught the one thing that mattered. They were not from the same universe.
The scholar's gaze drifted back to him. She studied the lines of his face.
"I wonder," she whispered, "what he did."
It had been hundreds of thousands of years since Arthur arrived. He had only spoken once — the moment the five had rushed to intercept him from the guards, not to help, but to amuse themselves. They had been empty for eons, but now. They had someone. But Arthur had only given them two words: Arthur and Earth. They had never heard of it, and he never spoke after that day.
About to unfold was today. Arthur interrupted their talk.
"How about we see the path up close," he said.
They froze, stunned at the sound of his voice. Even the statues seemed to turn their faceless attention toward him.
The six walked parallel to the endless black road, far enough from the chained procession that the drifting glow of the souls couldn't touch them.
The obsidian giants along the way shifted almost imperceptibly.
The statues of the edge of the Path, which faced their backs towards the six damned souls, one statue after another, in alternating fashion, were turning their backs towards the group, waiting for them to act. But they just strolled. The statue that still had its attention on the Path was consistently guiding the chained line, silent and cold.
It was like the guardians were tightening a net, ensuring the six would not cross onto the road.
They walked for a long while in silence, the distant clink-clink of chains. At last, the long-coated man spoke, his voice dry.
"You could've done this alone. Why drag us out here?"
Arthur's eyes stayed on the faraway shimmer.
"Aren't you interested in speaking to me?"
Four heads turned sharply toward him. The starlit figure gave a slow, incredulous laugh.
"You've been mute for a hundred thousand years — and now you talk?"
The jade-armored man's tone was almost eager. "So why haven't you spoken before?"
"I had no questions for you," Arthur said evenly. "And I have heard enough."
Their excitement was sudden and sharp like a predator scenting blood.
The scholar leaned forward, her silks brushing the ground. "Then tell us. What is this "Earth"?"
The dragon-robed man's eyes narrowed. "Is it a realm? A sect? A hidden world? I have never heard of it. Not in the Immortal realm?"
"What type of Immortals are there?" the armored one pressed. "Do you have Heavenly treasures?"
The starlit figure's smile grew sly. "Or was it like here? What type of Soul Arts do you possess?"
The long-coated man cut in, almost snarling the words. "What did you do there, Arthur? To be cast here with us?"
The questions came like tides, one after the other. The immortals were really bored.
Arthur's steps never slowed. His gaze stayed locked on the distant light.
"From your knowledge, I understand it was what you call a mortal world."
Silence fell. The five of them had visible expressions of excitement.
"Ah, I see," the scholar said slowly, as if savoring the sound of her deduction. "So you were an immortal who sacrificed a mortal world. That's why you are here." She tilted her head toward the others, eyes glinting like a predator's. "Again? How many mortal worlds must one sacrifice to be evil enough for Purgatory?"
The long-coated man gave a crooked smirk. "Two? Ten?"
The dragon-robed one chuckled darkly. "A hundred, perhaps. I'd like to see the list."
The starlit figure's expression was unreadable, like he was already imagining the crimes Arthur had committed in his mind.
But Arthur cut through their speculation.
"Uh… no."
They all turned to him.
"Huh? Then what is it?" the scholar asked, frowning as if the riddle displeased her.
Arthur didn't slow, didn't blink. His voice was almost casual.
"I was a mortal."
The effect was instantaneous.
"What?" they all said in unison, but it wasn't a shout — it was something between disbelief and confusion, the kind of tone reserved for something that should be impossible.
The jade-armored man's eyes narrowed until they were little more than slits. "That's not possible."
"Why?"
"How can a mortal be a damned soul. What can you possibly do to end up here?" The man in the Jade armor was shocked.
The group of five looked at Arthur like a treasure trove. But instead of gold, it was a mountain of memories.