"Aaaa—aaaaaah—aaaaah! Save me!"
"Aaaa—aaaah! Help me!"
"Aaaaa—aaaaaaa—aaaaaaano! Save me!"
"Please! I was wrong, don't do this to me!"
"Aaah! I am rich! I will give you everything I have—just let me out of this hell!"
The screams were endless. They twisted and tore through the void, raw voices echoing with such despair that they no longer sounded human.
Fu Yang's consciousness stirred within the chaos. His eyelids fluttered, heavy as stone, and when they opened, he felt something scorch against his throat. A burning chain coiled tightly around his neck, its heat searing his very soul. He gasped, trying to breathe, but the flames branded him with every exhale.
His mind froze.
(Why wasn't death my end?)
He remembered the explosion. The blaze, the heat, the shockwave swallowing everything—his flesh, his bones, his will. He had chosen to die. Yet here he was.
"Am I… really in hell?"
The answer came not in words, but in screams.
Around him, countless figures writhed and staggered. They were translucent, ghostly forms of men and women stripped of flesh, reduced to silhouettes of torment. Chains bound them all, glowing red, dragging them toward a single destination.
Fu Yang raised his eyes—and froze.
Ahead stretched a cyclone of fire so vast that it split the heavens themselves. Its molten winds screeched, shrieking like the cries of a thousand burning souls. Every moment, it swallowed more shadows, pulling them in with an irresistible force. Once they touched its core, they twisted like brittle paper, torn apart and scattered into ash before plunging into the lake of lava churning below.
The sight pierced even Fu Yang's hardened heart.
Heuk.
"What the—! I'm being pulled in too!"
The chain at his neck tugged forward with a merciless grip. His body—no, his soul—lurched toward the cyclone's flaming maw. The air burned hotter with every breath. He looked around frantically, searching for something, anything that could resist this pull. But there was nothing. Only endless streams of souls and the storm that devoured them.
"Aaaaah—aaaaah—aaaaaah!"
Time warped. The distance between him and the cyclone closed slowly, agonizingly, but every moment was torture. The nearer he drew, the louder the screams became. They pierced bone and marrow, cutting deeper than blades, sharper than knives. The heat gnawed into his very essence, and he felt his soul begin to fray at its edges.
His jaw clenched, his teeth grinding. His thoughts spiraled.
(I did those things because I had no choice! I was forced to!)
(I killed people—so what? I betrayed the useless—so what? It was all for survival!)
Again and again, he repeated the words, a desperate mantra to shield himself from the cyclone's hunger. But no matter how often he repeated them, the storm loomed closer, swallowing every excuse, every lie, every shred of justification.
The chain tightened further, choking him. His limbs trembled, his soul shuddered. Panic clawed at him—until suddenly, clarity broke through the haze.
"Wait… my soul isn't from this world. So why am I trapped in this world's hell?" His eyes widened, light flickering in their depths. "Could this… be ?"
A sound split the air.
Kkkkkkkkkkkk—
The cyclone shuddered. At its blazing core, a jagged cut ripped open, revealing something that should not exist.
Darkness.
Not the darkness of night, nor the shadows of fear, but pure void. It was an abyss without light, without form, without end. It radiated no heat, no sound, no presence—only nothingness. Yet that nothingness was deeper, heavier, and more terrifying than the flames themselves.
Fu Yang stared, stunned, his chains loosening. For the first time since awakening here, hope stirred in his chest.
But hope died as quickly as it came.
Behind him, the countless souls suddenly shrieked—not in agony, but in terror. The cyclone's pull reversed for them; their chains melted into ash, vanishing as if they had never been bound at all. Freed, they scattered wildly, fleeing from the abyss at the cyclone's heart.
Fu Yang's eyes widened.
"Their chains… gone?"
He twisted his head, only to feel the collar of flame biting tighter. His own chain still bound him, glowing hotter, dragging him closer toward that black abyss while the others fled.
Of all the souls here, why only him? Why only his neck still bound?
His face darkened, rage and despair twisting together.
"Shitty luck of mine…"
The cyclone howled. The abyss widened. Fu Yang felt the chain on his neck snap taut, pulling him with unstoppable force into the unknown darkness.
His body lurched forward, weightless, helpless. Around him, the freed souls vanished into the distance, their screams echoing faintly, swallowed by the storm. The world narrowed until there was only him, the burning chain, and the void waiting with silent hunger.
As the pull grew stronger, tearing at his soul, Fu Yang gritted his teeth and laughed. It was a dry, broken laugh, but one that carried defiance.
"Hahaha… so what if it's hell or something worse? Even if heaven and hell spit me out, I'll carve my path in the void itself!"
With that vow burning in his heart, he was dragged into the abyss.
And the darkness closed over him.
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Author's Note: If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a like and review. I promise—you won't be bored as the story unfolds.