With each step he took, he felt like he was dragging a fat rock attached to his ankles.
Being dead sucks.
He fell on his knee on the dry, white sand of death's realm and had a painful wheeze. His chained wrist was placed over his chest as he tried to catch a quick breath.
They had all been walking…for what felt like a million years without a single moment of rest. Even though that was impossible to quantify as death's realm was timeless. The half demons or others that were half of something that was immortal all paused to glare at him in disbelief.
Some even had the audacity to look angry at him when he was about to die all over again. Tears of pain stream down his cheek as he felt his entire throat breaking apart due to severe thirst.
