Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction—at least, that’s what it felt like. I couldn't see anything. It was pitch black. I took a cautious step forward, then another, arms slightly raised as I searched for anything around me—walls, obstacles, light—but there was nothing. Only the void.

  "Where am I…" I muttered under my breath.

  I clenched my fists and slapped my cheek—hard. The sting confirmed it: I’m not dreaming. And I’m definitely not dead.

  I took another step forward.

  The ground felt solid—until it didn’t. My foot slipped through nothingness. My body lurched, and I reached out instinctively, trying to grab hold of something, anything, but there was nothing there.

  I was falling.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the unknown… but then paused. It’s already dark. What difference does it make if my eyes are closed or not?

  So I opened them—and I’m glad I did.

  As I kept falling, light began to bloom from below, soft and surreal. Layers of the world unfolded before my eyes: rippling water flowing through invisible channels, shimmering ribbons of light dancing through the air, patches of lush grass sprouting from floating stones, and jagged rocks suspended like fractured memories. It was beautiful—strange and dreamlike, yet real in a way I couldn’t explain.

  And then—splash.

  I hit the surface of a crystal-clear pond. The impact was gentle, as if the water had embraced me. I lay there, floating, unmoving, staring up at the layered world I had fallen through.

  And for a moment, I just breathed. The world was quiet. The beauty above me, reflected in the water’s surface, felt like something sacred.

  For the first time since I was summoned to this world… I felt at peace.

  Floating in that pond, surrounded by surreal beauty, all the chaos and weight I’d been carrying seemed to melt away. No voices in my head. No missions. No blades pointed at my throat. Just stillness.

  Then—splash.

  Followed by another.

  Ripples stirred the water near me. I lifted my head slightly, eyes narrowing.

  Someone was approaching in a kayak, cutting through the mirrored surface with calm, practiced strokes. The figure was dressed simply, face partially shadowed by a hood. Yet somehow, despite the strangeness of it all, I didn’t feel the need to run. Or fight.

  In fact… I felt safe.

  I swam toward the kayak and pulled myself up, settling into the front seat with a tired breath. The water dripped from my clothes, pooling at my feet. I took a quick glance back at the one paddling.

  Well… he wasn’t human.

  He looked like swirling gas—wisps of translucent smoke held together by some invisible form. His body shifted and pulsed like a living fog, with faint traces of light flowing through him like veins.

  Then he spoke.

  His voice was calm, clear, and oddly weightless. It felt like wind passing through trees—gentle, yet unmistakably real.

  “He got another one, didn’t he?” the figure said, his gaseous form drifting slightly forward. What seemed to be his head turned toward me. “You're still fresh… Well, I guess we all were.”

  I leaned back instinctively, uncomfortable with how close he was—and more than a little confused.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Zareth?”

  The being gave a soft scoff, amused or bitter—I couldn’t tell.

  “Yes. The one and only,” he replied, floating back a little. “You’ll get used to this realm eventually.”

  I spoke again, more firmly this time. “Can I ask… where are we? And what did he do to me?”

  The figure paused. Its formless head turned, gazing around as if trying to find the right words—or maybe just the right reality to match them.

  “To answer your first question… I don’t know exactly,” it said slowly. “But what I do know is that we’re beneath the Abyssal Skylands.”

  “Abyssal Skylands?” I echoed, furrowing my brows.

  “Mm,” it hummed, almost wistfully. “A place where things aren't bound by the same rules. Time bleeds. Space folds. Definitions shift. Here, what is… might not be. And what isn't… might be watching.”

  Its glowing eyes—or the closest thing to them—turned to me again.

  “As for what he did to you…” The misty form sighed, a soft puff of vapor escaping from where a mouth might have been. “That’s harder to explain.”

  It drifted a little closer, the kayak barely moving with its motion.

  “But judging from the way you’re talking, thinking, feeling… I’d say he split you. Took your consciousness—this part of you—and separated it from your body.”

  “What?” I whispered.

  “Basically,” it continued, “you’ve been divided. One body is still out there somewhere… walking around like a doll without a soul. And the other part—your mind, your awareness—is here.”

  A cold chill ran through me that had nothing to do with the water.

  “So… I’m not whole,” I muttered.

  “Not anymore,” the figure said softly. “Welcome to the in-between, traveler.”

  It continued to paddle in silence, the soft rhythm of water against wood filling the strange void around us.

  “So… what are you?” I asked, still watching the swirling gas that made up its form.

  “What am I?” it echoed with a puff of vapor. “Ah, what a great question.”

  It let the words hang for a moment, drifting along with the current before continuing.

  “I guess you could call me a lost soul. A worker. A slave. Or whatever else makes sense to you. Doesn’t matter much, really. The names change, but the chains don’t.”

  “A soul?” I frowned. “But how does that even work? If you're bound to Zareth—if you're some kind of slave—how do you actually serve him? What kind of work do you even do?”

  The figure gave a soft, bitter chuckle. “Work, huh? That’s a generous word.”

  It paused, then resumed paddling slowly, eyes—or what I assumed were eyes—glancing at the still black water.

  “We don’t really do anything for him. Not most of the time. We just... rot here. In this broken dimension, feeding his need for control. For the satisfaction of knowing someone exists beneath him, stuck, helpless.”

  My stomach tightened.

  “But when he gets bored,” it went on, voice quieter now, “he’ll pull one of us out. Just… reach in and pluck a soul like you’d pick fruit off a tree.”

  It turned slightly toward me.

  “Then he’ll shove that soul into a ‘doll’—some hollow shell, some puppet—and make us do his bidding in the waking world. Fight. Kill. Obey. Sometimes for a few days. Sometimes for years.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “And when he’s done with us?” The figure gave another puff, this one heavier. “He tosses us back in here. Broken, used, and even more confused than before.”

  I felt cold. Not from the air—but from the weight of it all.

  “So that’s it?” I asked quietly. “You just… wait until he decides to use you again?”

  The soul nodded. “That’s the curse. We’re not living. We’re not dead. We’re just leftovers.”

  What am I hearing right now, I know that Zareth was an embodiment of sloth but I wouldn't think of this as his main power source.

  “You mentioned we earlier,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “But… I haven’t seen anyone else besides you.”

  It let out a low puff, almost like a sigh.

  “Well, that’s because they don’t want to show themselves to you. No offense.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

  “They’re cautious. Broken things tend to be that way.” The figure glanced over its shoulder, the kayak still gliding steadily through the dark waters. “Some are too far gone to even remember how to speak. Others… they just don’t trust newcomers. Especially ones that still have hope in their eyes.”

  I didn’t respond right away. I wasn’t sure if I felt insulted… or pitied.

  “So they’re watching?” I finally asked, glancing into the shadowed horizon around us.

  “They always are.” It nodded slowly. “Just out of sight, just beyond the fog. You’ll feel them soon enough.”

  “I don’t know if this is something you want to hear,” I said, my voice steady despite the weight of the moment. “But I think I can free everyone here.”

  The figure gave a puff of air, almost a laugh but hollow and lacking warmth.

  “Free everyone? That’s funny. Too bad I can’t really laugh,” it said, its voice dripping with a kind of resigned amusement. “You’d be the first to think so.”

  I didn’t flinch. My eyes stayed locked on the shifting mist that made up the figure.

  Slowly, I reached for Nyxrend, feeling its weight in my hand as I unsheathed it with a smooth motion. The blade gleamed faintly in the strange lightless world we inhabited.

  “This is a soul-eating sword,” I said quietly, the words echoing through the still air. “I’m not forcing you, but… I’m just giving you an option.”

  The figure didn’t flinch either. It simply stared at me, as if weighing my offer—though whether it was intrigued or indifferent, I couldn’t tell.

  “You think that blade will save us?” it asked, its tone softer now, almost curious. “You think eating souls is the answer? You think Zareth would let you do that?”

  I held Nyxrend steady, the weight of my decision pressing against me. “I don’t know what Zareth will allow. But I do know that if you want freedom, there’s always a price. Sometimes, it’s a soul. Sometimes, it’s something more.”

  The misty figure lingered for a long moment, its form swirling slightly.

  “What makes you think we’re worth saving?” it asked at last, voice tinged with something almost like doubt.

  I held Nyxrend steady, my grip firm as I faced the misty figure.

  “Let me shoot that question back at you,” I said, my voice sharp. “What are you worth? Do you really want to keep roaming around, chained to someone like him?”

  The figure paused, its vaporous form swirling slowly as if the question had struck deeper than it expected. It didn’t answer immediately, and for a moment, the air seemed heavier, the stillness pressing in around us.

  “I’ve never really wanted anything,” it murmured, its voice a low, almost mournful whisper. “Not since… since I was pulled into this place. It’s easier to stop wanting after a while. You get tired of the hope, the struggle.”

  I took a step forward, my eyes never leaving the shifting shape. “That’s exactly why I’m asking. You’ve accepted this existence. You’ve let it define you. But it doesn’t have to be like this.”

  The mist twisted, like it was considering my words.

  “Easier said than done,” it finally replied, the words dripping with weariness. “You can’t just carve your way out of this place with a sword. Even if you eat every soul here, Zareth’s reach is vast. We’ve tried before.”

  I tightened my grip on Nyxrend, the blade pulsing faintly in my hand. “That doesn’t mean we stop trying. Doesn’t mean we give up.”

  The figure’s form rippled again, a long, deep exhale escaping from it. “You’re different. You want to fight. I can feel that. But you’ll learn, sooner or later…” Its voice lowered, almost a warning. “Zareth doesn’t let go. Not without taking everything from you first.”

  I pointed my sword towards the figure, my hand steady but my heart racing with purpose. “I won’t let him,” I said, my voice unwavering. “Not with everyone. No—together, we will.”

  I stood up in the kayak, my gaze fixed on the shifting form of the soul before me. “What do you say?”

  The figure seemed to pause, its misty form rippling, a strange silence stretching between us before it finally spoke.

  “You really are something.” It said it with a mixture of disbelief and quiet respect. “What is your name?”

  “Eli,” I answered, my grip tightening on the hilt of Nyxrend. “Elric Eli Dela Cruz.”

  The figure’s voice softened. “Eli, I’ve called all the souls in the direction this kayak is heading… So please… do the honor and save everyone.”

  Without another word, I thrust my sword forward. The blade sang through the air as Nyxrend glowed with a fierce, ominous light. In that instant, parts of its power—its memories—flooded into me.

  The memories were clear, vivid—too real.

  I saw him—the man—a simple farmer, weathered hands calloused from years of toil, working the land in the sun, his face lined with years of worry. I saw his family—a wife who looked at him with love and quiet hope, a son frail from illness, coughing with each labored breath. Their crops withered in the parched soil, and all he could do was pray.

  Then, a shadow loomed over their lives.

  Zareth.

  The demon appeared like a god in their time of desperation, promising salvation in exchange for something. The man agreed, believing the demon was his last hope.

  But what Zareth offered was no miracle—it was a curse. A soul lost, bound to serve Zareth’s will, a life extinguished in exchange for power.

  I gritted my teeth, feeling the weight of the soul’s memory pressing against me.

  “Tsk…” I growled under my breath, fury swelling inside me. “I’m going to kill that fucking demon.”

  I took a steady breath, shaking off the weight of the soul’s memories. They were now part of me, stored deep within, fueling my resolve.

  I grabbed the paddle, dipping it into the water, and the kayak began to glide forward. The silence felt different now—heavier, yet with a sense of purpose, like the weight of the souls ahead of me was already pushing me forward.

  As I paddled, the landscape around me began to change. The air, once thick with mist, began to clear. The Abyssal Skylands stretched out above, their jagged peaks rising high into the infinite black sky. The water shimmered, reflecting fractured stars and strange lights, as if they were worlds I could never touch. But still, I paddled forward, driven by a single goal.

  There were no more voices in the air, no whispers of lost souls. Just the hum of the kayak cutting through the still waters, and the memory of what I had learned—the farmer’s life, his sacrifice, the pain of those left behind. That pain wasn’t something I could let go. Not now.

  I steeled myself as I continued to paddle, knowing that the next step of this journey would be even more dangerous. The souls ahead were waiting, and I wasn’t about to let Zareth claim any more of them.

  The kayak sliced through the still water, each stroke of the paddle pushing me further into the unknown. The weight of the absorbed soul lingered in my mind, but it wasn’t a burden—it was fuel. Every memory, every shred of emotion that Nyxrend had claimed became a part of me, sharpening my focus, solidifying my resolve.

  The sky above still hung heavy with darkness, a sea of stars suspended in the blackness. The Abyssal Skylands loomed high above, casting jagged shadows over the water. There was a quiet beauty in the way everything seemed suspended in time, yet I could feel it—something was waiting. The air crackled with an electric tension, the kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

  I paddled harder, my thoughts racing. What would I find ahead? How many more souls were trapped here, just like the farmer? How many had suffered at Zareth’s hands, only to be forgotten, their lives nothing more than shadows?

  The kayak glided smoothly across the water, its path lit by faint starlight that seemed to come from all directions, as if the very air around me was alive with energy. The water shimmered, flowing like liquid glass, undisturbed by the turmoil in my mind.

  And then, just as I was beginning to think that perhaps this was all just a dream, a faint glow appeared ahead.

  It wasn’t a light, not like any I’d seen before. This glow was darker—more alive, like the faintest ember in the heart of a dying fire. It pulsed gently, calling to me, its presence both unsettling and strangely comforting.

  I shifted my grip on the paddle, guiding the kayak toward the source of the glow. With each stroke, the light grew stronger, and as I neared, I realized that it was coming from something in the water itself. A ripple ran across the surface, distorting the reflection of the sky above, and in the distance, I saw shapes.

  Figures. Forms. Souls.

  I could feel them before I saw them—whispers, like the faintest echoes of voices long lost. They were waiting for something. For me?

  The kayak moved closer, and the figures became clearer. They were translucent, like the one I had encountered before, but there were dozens of them now. Each one was different, each one carrying the weight of their own tragic stories, but they were all the same in one way—they were trapped.

  I slowed the kayak, taking in the sight before me. The souls hovered in the water, their eyes empty but filled with a kind of desperate longing. They had been waiting for something—for someone—to break their chains, to release them from this prison.

  And I was that someone.

  I set the paddle aside, unsheathing Nyxrend. The blade felt heavier now, as if it had absorbed the very weight of their suffering, as if the sword itself understood what had to be done.

  I took a deep breath, readying myself for what was to come. This wasn’t going to be easy. Zareth’s influence ran deep in this place, and breaking it would take everything I had.

  But I wasn’t going to stop. Not until every last soul here was free.

  With Nyxrend in hand, I stood, raising the sword high. A pulse of energy ran through it, and for a moment, it felt as though the very air around me was holding its breath.

  Then, with a sharp, decisive motion, I thrust the blade downward into the water.

  The souls around me trembled, and I felt the sword respond—its power unlocking, feeding off the souls it had consumed. The water around me began to stir, the light growing brighter, swirling around my feet like a whirlwind of energy.

  The souls began to speak, their voices melding together into a chorus of sound that resonated deep within me. It wasn’t pain, or fear—it was hope.

  We’re free.

  I exhaled, lowering the sword, watching as the light around me began to shift, breaking apart like a fading storm. The figures started to fade, one by one, their forms dissipating into the air, leaving only traces of light behind.

  And just like that, they were gone.

  The stillness that followed felt almost unbearable. The weight of their absence pressed on me, but it wasn’t a bad feeling—it was peace.

  I sank back down into the kayak, exhausted but filled with a sense of purpose. This was only the beginning, but I could feel that something inside me had changed.

  The journey ahead would be long, and Zareth was still out there, but for the first time since I arrived in this world, I felt like I had a real chance of taking him down.

  And I wasn’t going to stop until I did.