As the world faded around him, Kamrik felt at peace. The encroaching darkness was a welcome friend. He would rather die than endure a world with no future.
As the darkness swallowed him, he closed his eyes.
The world was dead.
And he was dead too.
Right?
He slowly opened his eyes.
He was not met with darkness—
But light.
"Ah—!"
The light stung his face, almost as if he were alive.
But that wasn't possible.
He had been killed by that abomination.
Yet as he looked around, he had to marvel at the reality before him.
This was not death.
But it was not life either.
The world around him was white — a vast expanse made of tiny specks of dust, each illuminating its own degree of light. Some were white. Others glowed faintly purple. Distant flashes of white lightning flickered across the horizon, silent and without thunder.
"Where am I?"
Just moments ago he had been slaughtered. Now he stood in a white world of shining dust and strange lightning.
"Is this death? No… that's not possible. The realm of death is decay. Not calm. Not like this."
With a hand on his chin, he speculated about the origin of this place.
Then he felt something.
"Hm?!"
Seven distant specks hovered in the air, each a different color.
Red. Green. Purple. Black. Pink. Orange. Yellow.
They shone brighter than the surrounding dust.
As if beckoning him.
He didn't understand — but before he could process it, he was moving toward them.
His legs pumped with vigor no dead man should possess.
Halfway through, he realized he wasn't even running.
Reality itself was folding, warping, drawing him closer to the waiting lights.
Before he could properly analyze it—
He was already standing before them.
He panted as though he had run, yet he felt no fatigue. His body reacted out of habit, acting as if he was alive.
"That proves it. I'm dead… but not."
As he beheld the splendor of the colors, he didn't even realize his hand was reaching out.
His finger touched the red light.
Agony.
Raw. Immediate. Absolute.
Pain tore through his mind at impossible speed.
The shock made him stumble — his body crashing into the remaining colors.
The agony multiplied.
He had to ask again what he had done to deserve this. But even that thought was soon drowned out by the cacophony in his head.
Memories flooded him.
A life of anger and wrath. A life of laziness and sloth. A life of jealousy and envy. A life of narcissism and pride. A life of unrequited love and lust. A life of self-satisfaction and greed. A life of voracious hunger.
As he clutched his face, his fingers dug into his cheeks, carving bloody lines.
The memories surged at blinding speed.
But it wasn't just memories.
It was emotion.
Love. Hate.
Hunger.
They flooded his being, remaking him into something else.
He was becoming a vessel for these countless memories and emotions, each trying to usurp the others — and his own.
He felt everything.
Every sin. Every longing. Every hunger. Every weakness. Every desire.
And by the gods, it was amazing — and disgusting at the same time.
His jaw dislocated from screaming. His eyes rolled back. Blood leaked from his ears.
He collapsed facing upwards.
And when he looked up—
An eye.
A single black eye watched him from above.
At its gaze, he felt seen.
Not observed.
Seen.
At that gaze, the agony stopped.
His mind shattered.
No—
His soul.
Cracks spread through it like fractured glass.
As he fell unconscious, the seven colors surged forward and poured into his broken soul.