Prologue (II)

The figure behind Cyril was one he could only describe to be an elf.

Long blonde hair which reached down to their shoulders, pale skin which was extraordinarily fair – lacking any blemishes – and their most prominent feature; the long tips of their ears protruding through their hair.

The person fit all the standards of an elf from the many fantasy stories he had read. They were incredibly beautiful, but their features were so gentle that he couldn't properly tell their gender.

"…"

The middle-aged man nearly spoke out of shock, but further inspection caused him to hold his tongue.

The eyes of the elf he was facing were golden, but they lacked any sort of light. They lacked the gleam and vitality of life. They merely faced downwards listlessly, unmoving.

Observing closer, it wasn't only the elf that was like this. The figures behind the elf acted in a similar manner. While they were standing straight on their feet, they showed no signs of life. Even after attempting to listen closely he couldn't even hear their breathing.

It was a strange and eerie sight.

A long line of strange and lifeless figures in a grand black hallway, standing in front of a massive noble gate.

Looking at them, Cyril didn't find it hard to imagine as to how he had been in the same position until mere moments ago. After all, he had found himself somehow sleeping standing up.

"…" Disturbed by the strangeness of the situation, the man couldn't help but perform the most logical action his mind could come to.

Reaching down, he pinched his hand. Hard.

"Ugh…" The pain was much more dull than it should have been, but it was enough to elicit a groan from him.

Consequently, it was enough for him to conclude that he wasn't dreaming.

But observing the figures behind him, their features were simply too intricate to fake.

"Either this means I've been kidnapped, I'm hallucinating from a severe acid trip due to drugs, or, judging from my latest memories…"

Cyril's voice was an even stranger presence in the already strange atmosphere. The air was completely still, devoid of any noise aside from the constant droning frequency. It lacked even the breathing sounds of the other people, despite their sheer number.

His voice echoed off of the walls and into the strange space. Although it didn't travel very far it was enough to force a sense of unnaturalness in him. Although he wasn't speaking loudly, the silence ensured that his voice was heard.

"I'm dead."

The conclusion should have been a shocking one. Or well, it was, but Cyril felt oddly calm considering the circumstances.

Though it didn't take much reflection for him to know why.

He had long been mentally prepared for his own death, having lived a life teetering on the edge. It was a risk that had accompanied him throughout his entire career, and he had met it face to face so many times – enough for him to call it an acquaintance.

"You seem abnormally calm." A deep, dark, and gravelly voice spoke out from nearly directly behind Cyril.

The bizarre atmosphere had already worked his nerves up, and the voice served to startle him greatly. He immediately turned around to look at its source, but what he encountered was no humanoid being.

Instead, it was a monster.

On his right, sitting on a large stone pedestal, was a massive creature. It had four arms similar to a human's, which seemed to serve as its legs as it perched on the column. Their fingers were spindly and sharp, with nails as large as his arm.

Thick muscles roped through its limbs, leading to a chiseled humanoid body. Its arched back couldn't properly be seen from Cyril's point of view, but he could see short spikes sticking out from its spine, along with two massive, webbed wings which were unfolded on its back.

Its face was hideous, with a sharp nose and narrow eyes, lacking any hair on both its head and body. Its skin, or rather entire body, seemed to have been chiseled from red marble, being smooth and shiny but rough. Cyril was familiar with such a shade. It was the deep colour of blood.

At first glance, it looked like some sort of chimera. But on second glance it was apparent that it was a massive red gargoyle, made out of some sort of stone.

Cyril was deeply shocked that he hadn't noticed it. It was likely because the gate had attracted his entire attention, along with him turning around from the other direction.

Though it also likely helped that the creature didn't move at all. It wasn't breathing, nor was it subtly trembling like every living being. If it stayed still, he sincerely doubted if he could tell that it was alive at all.

"…" Thoughts ran through the man's head, and his breathing quickened, but his keen instincts for danger honed through his life didn't alert him to anything strange. It allowed him to forcefully calm himself down.

"…The thing I pride myself most on is my adaptability." Although startled, his voice was clear and he answered with composure.

In response to his words, the gargoyle seemed to appraise him over once more.

"Huh. So it seems." It was very subtle, but it seemed to tilt its head by a few degrees. "Impressive control over your emotions. Not only upon seeing me, but after realizing you are indeed deceased."

The creature spoke in a dull and emotionless tone. Cyril didn't know if this was merely how it reacted, but it seemed to him as if it were incredibly bored.

"Is that something to be surprised about?"

"It is. Not even those smug elves or grand sages who have lived oh-so long can react the same way you do upon learning that they are dead. I do not know if it is because of your short lifespan, or because you value your life, or because you do not value your life."

The gargoyle, despite seeming taciturn, actually spoke a lot. Its tone wasn't unfriendly or hostile either, merely sounding curious.

It prompted Cyril to act, realizing that it wasn't something to be feared.

Swallowing quietly, the man gathered his courage before continuing.

"So… this is the afterlife."

"Hm… in a manner of speaking you may call it the afterlife, though not quite yet." The gargoyle's words were deep and hoarse, as if it hadn't spoken in a long time.

Its words were direct, but also vague, eliciting anxiety from Cyril. Anxiety for the unknown.

"Can you tell me what you mean?"

The large creature turned its eyes to him at his inquiry.

"Simply put… if you mean that this is after your life, then you are correct. But if you mean in the religious sense, then your true afterlife begins only after you are judged."

"Judged?" The word made Cyril frown as he turned his gaze to the massive gate in front of him. "Does that mean… wait, where exactly are we?"

While he was familiar with the concept of being judged, he had no idea of its process. In fact, prior to the gargoyle's words, he hadn't even known that an afterlife existed.

"We are in the Grand Court, of course." The creature spoke matter-of-factly, as if stating the obvious.

"Grand court? The grand court of what?"

"Is it not clear? We are in the Grand Court of Hell."