Tyrese's eyes were wide open, his gaze distant, as though he was trapped in a dream—or perhaps a nightmare. No, this wasn't a dream. Nor was it a nightmare. He knew, deep down, that this was reality, no matter how much his mind tried to reject it. The stillness of the barren land, the chill of the air, the faint whispers of wind brushing against his skin—it was all too vivid to be an illusion.
For what felt like an eternity, Tyrese stood frozen, his thoughts a tangled web of disbelief and dread. Slowly, he regained his senses, his body heavy with an unfamiliar weight. Before him stood the strange old man who had introduced himself as Adro, his calm demeanor betraying none of the turmoil Tyrese felt. The mysterious glint in Adro's eyes seemed to cut through the air, as if he could see straight into Tyrese's soul.
"What... What do you mean, Hell?" Tyrese finally managed to ask, his voice trembling despite his attempts to appear composed.
Adro's gaze deepened, heavy and almost suffocating. For a moment, Tyrese wondered if it was his own mind playing tricks on him—or if the man before him was truly capable of exerting such pressure with his mere presence. Time seemed to stretch infinitely before Adro spoke, his voice calm yet laden with significance.
"Hell isn't what you know," he said, his tone carrying a weight that sent shivers down Tyrese's spine. "The concept of Hell that the Light guy taught you? It's wrong."
The words struck Tyrese like a physical blow. He stumbled back a step, his mind reeling. "The Light guy?" he repeated, his voice laced with shock and confusion. "You mean the God of Light? Are you saying what he taught us was a lie?"
Deep down, Tyrese had always felt something was off about the teachings of the Church of Light. He had no evidence, just a gnawing sense that the truth was incomplete, hidden. But every trace of the old gods had been destroyed by the Church of Light. Questioning the God of Light was considered blasphemy—a crime punishable by death.
Adro's next words shattered his thoughts. "Light is no god. He will never be one."
Tyrese felt his mind teetering on the edge of breaking. Everything he thought he knew—everything he had been taught—was being challenged. Could this old man be lying? But if so, why did his words resonate so deeply?
He struggled to think clearly. I need more information, he realized. But Adro's words, unsettling as they were, seemed to hold fragments of truth Tyrese had long suspected.
"What do you mean he's not a god?" Tyrese finally asked, his voice trembling with equal parts fear and determination.
Adro studied him, his gaze unyielding. After a long pause, he replied, "That is something you are not yet qualified to know. Truth, sometimes, can be harmful."
Tyrese clenched his fists, frustration boiling beneath the surface. The weight of Adro's words wasn't just distressing—it was suffocating. Every time the man revealed something new, it felt as though Tyrese's mind might shatter under the pressure.
"If I can't know about the God of Light," Tyrese said after a moment, "then at least tell me—if this isn't Hell as I know it, then what is it?"
The question hung in the air, and Tyrese's hope for an answer was slim. But to his surprise, Adro eventually broke his silence. "Hell is the home of Anger," he said, his voice calm but heavy with significance. "At least, it used to be. I can't tell you more than that, and I believe you've already realized why."
Tyrese's eyes widened in realization. Adro was speaking of Anger—the third son of the All-Father. His thoughts raced. So, they really do exist... The book he had found wasn't just some forgotten text. The All-Father and his children were real. But the book had been incomplete, leaving Tyrese with more questions than answers. He didn't know how Hell had been created, or what had become of Anger and his siblings.
Adro watched him silently, his gaze steady and patient.
Eventually, Tyrese forced himself to breathe, to focus. He looked back at Adro, intending to ask another question, but before he could speak, Adro turned and began walking toward the distant cluster of lights.
"Follow me," he said simply.
Tyrese hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to stay where he was. But what choice did he have? The vast emptiness of the land around him offered no alternatives. Gritting his teeth, he followed.
The terrain shifted as they walked, each step revealing a new and unsettling landscape. Dead trees stood like silent sentinels, their twisted branches clawing at the star-streaked sky. The ground beneath them turned rocky, jagged edges cutting through the sand. At one point, they crossed a dry riverbed, its once-mighty expanse reduced to cracked earth.
Tyrese couldn't tell how long they walked. Minutes? Hours? The passage of time felt meaningless in this strange, eternal night. Yet despite the distance they covered, his body felt no fatigue.
Finally, they arrived at the base of a misty mountain. Its surface glowed faintly under the fractured light of the shattered moon and its three smaller companions. At the foot of the mountain stood a modest hut, its wooden walls worn but sturdy.
"This is where you'll be staying," Adro said, turning to face him.
Tyrese's heart sank. "Staying?" he echoed, disbelief etched into his voice. "I can't stay here! I need to go back! You have to send me back!"
Adro's gaze remained steady. "Why?" he asked, his voice calm but piercing. "Why do you want to go back? After all, there's nothing left for you in the living world."
Tyrese flinched, the words cutting deeper than he expected. For the first time, he truly considered them. His parents were gone, his home empty. He had been living alone, aimless. Even his decision to explore the Lost Sanctuary had been driven by a desire to feel something.
The realization hit him like a tidal wave. He had no purpose. No one to return to. No reason to fight.
Adro watched the flicker of despair in Tyrese's eyes and sighed softly. He hadn't wanted the boy to feel this way, but it was necessary. Returning to the living world after death was nearly impossible, and without a purpose—a will to live—Tyrese would never succeed.
After a moment, Adro spoke again. "The world as you know it will soon come to an end. Everything and everyone you know will cease to exist."
Tyrese's head shot up, his thoughts snapping back into focus. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice sharp with urgency.
Adro's gaze grew heavier. "If you truly wish to return," he said, "and perhaps prevent that future, you must first learn to wield the spark of wisdom within you. The spark is the key. But it comes at a cost."
Tyrese's mind grew foggy, a searing pain building behind his eyes. He clutched his head, letting out a low groan as the agony intensified. "Tell me... what... do I need... to do?" he managed to choke out between gritted teeth.
Adro's expression flickered with pity and sadness. The boy was suffering, but this knowledge couldn't be withheld. "You must learn death," Adro said. "Death is a weapon—a power, if you will. But before you can wield it, you must confront the force that stands in your way: anger.
"True anger," Adro continued, "not the fleeting emotion you know, but the raw, primordial anger that shaped this realm. You must learn its shape, its form, and most importantly, how to control it before it consumes you. Without a purpose—a will to live—you will lose yourself."
The weight of Adro's words sent Tyrese over the edge. The pain in his mind became unbearable, tearing through him like a storm. Letting out a pained roar, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Adro stood over him, his expression unreadable. In the silence that followed, he whispered, "Now it begins."