He walked slowly, studying his environment and trying to take it all in. The houses seemed to have been woven from grass, and Voldrak had to greatly stem the urge to sneer at the people he could see in the distance as he walked through a ground that had been completely leveled, without a single sprout of grass growing on it.
The house he had found himself in seemed to have been demarcated from the other houses in what appeared to be the village he now found himself in, something that made him especially wary since he didn't think it was a good thing. Worse, he had tried to carve his Rod of Darkness, and not a speck of power materialized.
"Things are definitely worse than I assumed," he thought to himself, taking note of the mortal body he was in, completely disappointed. Yes, his body didn't seem as haggard-looking and bone-thin as the others, and on the bright side, he wasn't missing any parts of his body, but still, the feeling of losing almost all of his power grated on him.
Finally, Voldrak reached where he saw the others he had been with gather in a straight line in front of a man who looked menacing as he held a whip in his hand. Again, a surge of anger pooled in Voldrak's belly at the thought of having to do the bidding of anyone but himself, even as he slowly joined the line, keeping his face blank, even as he felt the gaze of the bulky, pot-bellied man settle on him.
Voldrak didn't know what his deal was, but he mostly also didn't care. His power might be missing, but his fighting skills weren't, even in the trash of a body he had been tossed into.
"As pissed as I am, and hoping to go on a killing spree, I'd much rather take things slowly," Voldrak thought to himself, knowing that the second he died, he would be reborn, and whatever life he had lived or hoped to live would be gone, including his revenge.
"YOU! HOW DARE YOU WALK IN LIKE THAT!" the man suddenly barked, and Voldrak didn't have to turn his face to know that he was the one being addressed. Even from the corner of his eyes, he could see the man's flabby tummy jiggling as he yelled, something so simple but that seemed to exert more effort than it should.
"ARE YOU DEAF? YOU ARE THE LAST ONE TO ARRIVE! YOU KNOW THE PUNISHMENT! GET ON THE GROUND!" He continued, and Voldrak instantly made the decision, almost as if the idea had been right there and everything just seemed to click into place. He lowered his eyelids and waited for the man to come closer—something people seemed to do when the goal was humiliation instead of pain. The whip in his hand wasn't enough when his palm would do a better job.
The air around them was completely silent, and the others who stood with him didn't even part their lips to breathe through it. Instead, they stood still like statues whose legs had been nailed to the ground.
"YOU! A WHORE'S SON FROM THE PIT OF HELL!"
"Even the insults are unoriginal," Voldrak thought as he perceived the thick stench wafting off the plump man who rushed toward him. A sly smile lingered at the edge of his lips as he realized that all he needed to do was place his hand over his nose for the man to truly go insane with anger.
Voldrak didn't move as he simply waited… waiting for the slap he was confident was going to come. He didn't have to wait long as he turned his face, his eyes boring into the man's own with a silent dare, a challenge of sorts in his gaze.
"Please! Raise your hand. Allow me to grace the ground with your blood as the first mortal to cross me!" But maybe it was his greater sense of self-preservation—which was clearly better than his eating habits—he had just raised his hand against Voldrak when it suddenly froze in the air, almost like it had been held up there.
Voldrak was convinced his overwhelming aura was the cause until a second later when he realized that the puffy man's gaze was no longer on him. Turning immediately to see what it was directed at, he was a little stunned to see two women approaching.
They were tall, much taller than him. Well-fed, each of them holding a sharpened stone stick in their hands. On their chests was a small piece of grass that had been woven to bind them, though Voldrak couldn't help but notice how massive their breasts were in direct proportion to their size.
Their lower bodies were covered in the same way, barefoot as they walked closer, each maintaining a certain distance from the other in a way that told Voldrak they weren't friends.
His gaze was still settled on them when he realized that the three-sized man had moved away from him, turning his full attention to the women as he lightly lowered his head to show respect.
"I'm guessing they're higher on the pecking order!" Voldrak thought, shifting his gaze away when he got bored, only to realize that the man beside him was the one-eyed man without a tongue—it was just that it hadn't happened yet.
He caught him lift his head, unlike the others, fixing his only working eye on the chest of the bald one compared to the young woman beside her, whose hair reached all the way down her back.
"If I'm going to die, I might as well do so with a bang!" he muttered in a low voice, one that only Voldrak would have been able to hear.
Voldrak had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't take long for him to find out as he heard them slowly begin to speak.