The underworld was an immense, multi-layered realm, divided into nine distinct levels that descended ever deeper into darkness. Known collectively as the Nine Levels of Hell, each layer was more intimidating and daunting than the one above it.
Souls from various corners of the cosmos, including those from the pocket universe and among them, Aurelius', began their afterlife in the first level. This vast and barren expanse was a place of waiting, where the newly arrived souls would linger until their fate was decided. Would they face reincarnation, or something far more uncertain?
Aurelius' soul, still shimmering with the golden glow of his final merits, floated among countless others. The first level was a desolate plane, eerily silent except for the soft murmur of anxious souls. Shadows loomed in the distance, hinting at the deeper, more terrifying levels below.
As Aurelius' soul awaited judgment, the golden energy intertwined within him shone as a testament to his bravery and selflessness. In this foreboding realm, his soul's light served as a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest places, acts of courage and kindness could illuminate the way forward.
At the entrance to this first level, a solitary figure stood watch: the gatekeeper. Though he appeared middle-aged in human terms, he was ancient beyond measure, having existed for countless ages. His presence was otherworldly, a blend of wisdom, solemnity, and an unspoken understanding of the mysteries of life and death.
As the guardian of the gates, he had witnessed the arrival of innumerable souls, standing as a silent observer amidst the shadows. On this particular day, something unusual caught his attention. The gatekeeper, with his deep and penetrating gaze, looked into the distance.
Amidst the usual flow of souls, he saw an extraordinary sight—a soul surrounded by a radiant golden light. It was a rare and remarkable occurrence, something the gatekeeper hadn't seen in hundreds of eras. This soul, with its luminous glow, stood out starkly against the bleak landscape of the first level of the underworld, drawing the gatekeeper's keen interest.
The soul, shimmering with its golden aura, stood out distinctly from the others, suggesting a life rich with significant merit and virtue. Its radiant presence hinted at something extraordinary unfolding in the underworld, a realm accustomed to the solemn passage of spirits.
For the gatekeeper, a being who had borne witness to countless souls traversing the gates of the underworld, this sight was deeply intriguing. "Not since the ancient times, when the immortals departed sensing the world's decline, have I seen a soul with such abundant merit," he mused to himself.
This was a momentous occasion, a rarity he hadn't experienced in a very long time. With a special tool resembling a fishing pole made of light, he reached out to gently capture the soul that glowed with golden light.
Clutching the soul in his hand, the guard's mind flashed with the
Law of the Underworld: Merit Exemption Clause, Section 4: Merit Exemption, 4.2. When a soul amasses a total merit length of 9999 feet, they shall be exempted from judgment by the Lords of the Underworld and instead be judged directly by the King of Hell.
With the weight of responsibility heavy upon him, the guard embarked on a journey through the planes of the underworld, traversing from the first floor to the ninth. Each level held its own secrets, its own inhabitants, but the guard pressed on, guided by the knowledge of the soul's extraordinary merit.
Venturing deeper into the dark depths of the underworld, the gatekeeper pressed on towards the imposing palace of the King of Hell. Each step forward seemed to draw him deeper into the suffocating embrace of darkness, as if the shadows themselves conspired to keep intruders at bay. This darkness wasn't merely absence of light; it was a tangible force, heavy with the weight of sorrow and hopelessness that permeated this realm.
Before him loomed the palace, a formidable structure crafted from stones that gleamed like obsidian. Its architecture was both awe-inspiring and chilling, a testament to the underworld's dominion over the fate of souls. Towering spires pierced the sky like jagged blades, casting ominous shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly into the abyss above.
As the gatekeeper approached the entrance, he couldn't help but marvel at the intricate carvings adorning its dark façade. Scenes of judgment and punishment were etched into the stone with meticulous detail, serving as a grim warning to any who dared to enter uninvited. Gargoyles and demons stood sentinel, their grotesque forms a stark reminder of the horrors that awaited within.
Stepping into the throne room, the gatekeeper was enveloped in a shroud of darkness that seemed to swallow all light. The walls themselves appeared to be made of shadows, pulsating with an eerie energy that resonated with the sorrow of the damned. At the center of it all, atop a lofty platform, sat the throne of the King of Hell.
The throne was a sinister masterpiece, crafted from bones, dark stone, and molten lava. Its surface was adorned with symbols of torment and despair, each carving a testament to the king's absolute power over the souls of the underworld. Demonic figures with eyes ablaze watched from the ends of the throne, their gaze piercing through the darkness with unyielding intensity.
Seated upon the throne was the King of Hell himself, a figure of unparalleled power and ancient wisdom. His presence filled the room with an oppressive weight, suffusing the air with an aura of despair. The gatekeeper, his ghostly form blending seamlessly with the shadows, approached the throne, ready to fulfill his duty in the realm of eternal darkness.
As the gatekeeper advanced towards the throne, the stone guardians lining the chamber seemed to stir, their silent vigilance hinting at a latent anticipation. Each step he took echoed through the vast expanse of the room, a solemn cadence that underscored the gravity of his purpose.
Upon the throne, the King of Hell, an ancient and inscrutable figure, regarded the gatekeeper with eyes that held the weight of ages. They were eyes that had witnessed the birth and demise of civilizations, harboring a wisdom as deep as the abyss itself.
With a profound bow, the gatekeeper addressed the king, his voice resonating in the cavernous chamber. "Your Majesty, in accordance with the laws of the underworld, this soul has attained a merit length of 9999 feet. I have brought it forth for judgment."
The king's gaze flickered with a rare spark of interest, a glimmer of curiosity amidst the perpetual darkness that enveloped his domain. The tension in the room palpably heightened as the gatekeeper recounted the arrival of the soul, cloaked in a radiant golden light.
After a moment of contemplation, the King of Hell issued his decree. "This soul must have been mortal before its passing. Take it to the Soul Healing Hall to allow it to regain its consciousness. Once it awakens, we shall commence judgment."
"Summon all the Lords of the Underworld," he continued, his voice echoing with authority. "The soul shall be judged, and its fate determined by the collective wisdom of our assembly."
Upon receiving the command, a guard at the king's side hastened to summon the Lords of the Underworld. Each lord presided over a specific floor of the underworld, except for the first and ninth floor, which fell under the king's direct authority.
Meanwhile, the gatekeeper entrusted with the soul of Aurelius made his way to the Soul Healing Hall, where the soul would undergo a process of restoration before facing its ultimate reckoning.