Chapter Ten: Pain of Perseverance
In the faint light of dawn, the town was silent, tightly packed with medieval-style buildings.
Some children, around ten years old, walked down the cobblestone street with calm, steady steps.
Some gathered around old houses, whispering and pointing at a location.
Many people stopped in their tracks and stared at a scene so harrowing that some girls shrieked in horror.
The focus of their eyes was on a young boy, staggering forward with unsteady steps.
His tattered robe resembled a rag, barely clinging to his bloodied body.
Blood steadily dripped onto the ground as he moved. His body was the home of all sorts of injuries, making the young children shiver.
The figure was like a grotesquely carved portrait of a disgusting and harrowing nightmare.
With each step he took, bloody imprints of his footsteps attached themselves to the ground, like monuments to his passing.
This boy was naturally Dusken. He had traversed the desert throughout the night, unwilling to give up.
His willpower was firm, his gaze steady, and his heart was unmoving like a mountain.
Ignoring the murmurings of the children, he advanced forward. The onlookers stepped aside, the fear within compelled them to create distance from him.
Pain, indescribable pain, filled his senses - not fear, not regret, only pain. He walked down the labyrinthine town, turning left and right with purpose.
This town had been built and meticulously mapped by people from the real world, and every child, by the age of eight, was made to memorize its streets like the back of their hands.
Though it was Dusken's first time here, his knowledge of the twists and turns guided him, costing the least amount of effort.
Eventually, he came across a path winding upward, with the town as its base. The cliff he faced was triangular in shape, and the road before him led to its top, where the god's palace stood.
Step. Step. Another step. The agonizing steps of Dusken were slow, but he persevered against the pain, against the sharp winds.
Other children also ascended the elevated path. They all pointed at Dusken, dread written all over their faces.
Time seemed to stretch as Dusken pressed forward. His vision blurred as he felt like death was approaching.
He had lost too much blood, and every muscle in his body screamed in protest.
Yet he refused to give up; he persevered while muttering through gritted teeth:
"Ashahell, Ashahell, you will pay. I will make you pay."
These words fueled his resolve as determination flared within him.
The sun had fully risen now, its heat glaring down on him, aggravating his injuries.
His legs throbbed from the spikes' previous stabs as his perception sank into the world of excruciating pain.
His fists clenched tightly as he dragged himself forward.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his feet met flat ground. Dusken, whose head was bowed, stared at the blood-stained earth beneath him.
He summoned his remaining strength and raised his gaze.
The peak of the cliff was before him. A massive, ancient palace loomed in the distance.
There were no gates that guarded it, no courtyards that adorned its surroundings - only the palace stood, its ancient stones radiating a presence of greatness and primordial awe.
Above, grey clouds blotted out the sun's radiance, shielding the palace below from its angry glare.
Children numbering in the hundreds - perhaps thousands - were all making their way towards the awe-inspiring structure. Dusken also moved forward with slow but resolute steps.
A step at a time, he neared the ancient building's massive door. The children around him murmured and moved aside, their fear visible as they gazed at his blood-drenched figure.
Dusken approached the door, his body trembling and swaying. Pain blinded him, but he welcomed it because it reminded him that he was still alive.
This was pain, yes, but it was different. It was the pain of perseverance. Raising a bloodied hand, he placed it against the ancient doors.
The children around him cursed as they recoiled, the suffocating stench of blood making them puke.
For a moment, nothing happened - no sign, no light, just nothing.
Dusken was about to curse when, without warning, he vanished.
---
Dusken's vision turned blank. Moments later, he regained his senses and found himself standing in a vast and endless hall.
Torches lined the walls, their flickering flames barely illuminating countless statues that stretched as far as his eyes could see.
A strange sensation overcame him. The pain that had dominated his every thought was gone, replaced by a calm, soothing feeling.
Dusken inspected his body, his eyes widening in astonishment. His wounds had vanished, and his tattered robe was whole once more.
He exhaled a deep, relieved breath.
"I didn't die," he thought, a small smile forming on his lips.
The murmur of voices pulled him from his reverie as he realized he wasn't alone. Other children filled the hall, some speaking in hushed tones.
Dusken's eyes narrowed, caution flashing in them as he surveyed his surroundings with bated breath. He was a target on the list for elimination, and wariness was essential for survival.
He observed the hall with fierce intensity. It was grand and imposing. Its marble floor gleamed as the soles of his shoes glided effortlessly over its surface.
Towering pillars rose toward the high ceiling; their height was seemingly intimidating.
Behind him stood the massive door through which he had mysteriously entered without opening.
More children continued to appear, their expressions blank at first, as though disoriented. Dusken understood how they felt since he had also experienced that.
The eerie shadows cast by the torches refused to communicate with Dusken no matter how hard he tried.
"So, the bond has been shattered, huh," he nonchalantly thought. He had expected as much. After forcing the shadows to help him earlier, the faint bond he felt with them naturally vanished.
However, Dusken had to admit he wasn't regretful in the least bit. His life came first above some stupid recognition from an entity of the Abyss.
He was also curious as to why the shadows had struggled in the first place. Unlike darkness, they hadn't shown any sign of recognizing or acknowledging him at all.
Letting out an heavy sigh, his gaze swept through the hall. Dusken's heart suddenly skipped a beat as his gaze fell on a nearby statue.
Clad entirely in armor, it held an odachi in its right hand.
He recognized it instantly. It was the god of battle from southern mythology in the 40th century of Earth — a memory from his previous life.
Beneath the statue, engraved on its pedestal, were ancient words in a language he had learned from his clan. It read: The God of Battle.
Dusken's eyes sparkled. His gaze shifted to another statue. This one depicted a perfect figure, with a caring smile and one hand resting over its chest.
He also recognized it as the goddess of medicine, and as his stare moved down, the pedestal confirmed his memory.
He continued studying the statues around him, recognizing them all as gods and goddesses from the four major mythologies of his past life.
A dark plan slowly formulated in Dusken's mind. If he could choose the strongest god to bind with, using his knowledge from his previous life, wouldn't he secure the most powerful legacy of all time?
His eyes burned with determination at this thought. He cast his gaze toward the seemingly endless hall, its far end shrouded in mysteries he sought to unveil.
'Now this would be exciting,' he thought while muttering under his breath:
"Good things always come last, and I'll reach the end of this hall, no matter what."
Motivated, Dusken took his first step forward with his bright future playing in his mind. But as he did, his expression instantly changed.