"The Repeating Worlds"
Death was not the end for Azar; it was merely the beginning of an unending series of harrowing experiences. Just as he thought he had left everything behind, an unfamiliar sensation overtook him: there was nothing but void. Suddenly, the darkness lifted, and he found himself in another world—a realm teeming with vibrant colors and strange plants. Yet, something felt off. There was a gnawing sense of finality, a deep ache in his heart. But there was no time for rest; his body was paralyzed, incapable of movement.
"Is it over? Is this truly the end?" Azar wondered, struggling for breath.
The answer was agonizing. Out of nowhere, a crushing pain seized his chest, as though a great weight bore down on him. His body crumbled once again, and the shadows closed in. When his eyes opened, he was in a new world—a world as strange as the first but distinctly different. Unnatural sounds echoed around him, as if the earth itself was alive and breathing. The sky was warped, filled with black clouds unlike anything he had ever seen.
"No, not again…" Azar muttered, unable to comprehend.
Before he could gather his thoughts, the pain returned—sharper this time, cutting through him with unbearable intensity, as though his very soul was fracturing. And as before, his body collapsed, swallowed by darkness.
The next moment, Azar found himself in yet another world, eerily similar yet distinct from the ones before. Each time he awoke, he felt as if death loomed closer, waiting at every corner.
Each new world was a vicious loop. He would endure excruciating pain, die, and awaken again—only to face a greater agony and more insurmountable challenges. The cycle repeated endlessly, each death dragging him deeper into despair.
Azar began to lose all sense of time. Had years passed? Or was it all happening in a relentless instant? He couldn't tell. The pain clouded his mind, stripping him of rational thought. But what disturbed him most was the constant feeling of helplessness, as if some unseen force was manipulating his every move, dictating his transitions from one world to another.
"Where am I? What is happening?" he whispered, struggling to open his eyes in yet another unfamiliar realm.
The answer came swiftly, in the form of unbearable agony—his body shattering, his soul aflame. Just as he began to believe this was his ultimate end, the darkness enveloped him again. This time, however, the whispers in the void grew louder.
"You are cursed, Azar… These worlds are your trial."
In that moment, clarity dawned upon him. He was trapped in an eternal cycle of torment, death upon death. Each new world brought fresh horrors, dragging him back into the abyss.
"When will this end?" he screamed into the emptiness around him, but the answer was crushing—there was no end.
Azar began to understand: this torment was a test, though its purpose eluded him. He was forced to endure, returning again and again, caught in a relentless cycle of suffering. A journey from which there seemed to be no escape.