The world was frightfully stagnant, and, most of all, dark. It was to the point that Rain felt as though he was trapped in a void, a black abysmal realm where no borders, walls, or any form of tangibility existed.

Still, even though its nature was different to what he had experienced moments before he’d woken up to this desolate world, a sense of nostalgia was present within this bleakness.

He was dying but he was at peace.

It seemed to be that death was only painful at the beginning. Down the line it got progressively silent and bittersweet. The worries of life vanished, and a cloak of warmth was draped over the one being pulled to the afterlife.

This was the stage he’d found himself in; no worries, no struggles to stay alive, no agony.

Although, a sense of regret lingered. His memories. He really wanted them.

It was at that moment that they appeared, a bunch of words combined to pass across messages he had never seen before. They filled his view one at a time, each with the blue and purple hue that was significant to this mysterious thing that was termed ‘the Plexus’.

That was… until the last one.

[Side Character Rain Leclair has become the Shadow of Asklepios]...

Rain wasn’t sure of the expression he had currently, if his eyes were widened or narrowed. He had since lost control over his body for a while now. What he was sure about, though, was that the message before him was unusual. After all, it was not of the usual blue and purple color the other messages from the Plexus had had. It was a deep red. Not the kind that was significant to water colors, but the thick, intense one of blood.

What is this? Even in death, Rain seemed to still have a significant hold on his thoughts compared to the other aspects of his being, and of course he made use of them. What’s going on?

That question of his was directed at two things; one, the way his eyes seemed to have grown a heart of theirs. They were pulsing, causing the red colored message before his view to expand and contract in accordance. He might be dead, but that did not stop him from feeling nauseated. As for the second thing his question was for, it was the sentence: ‘Shadow of Asklepios’.

Rain couldn’t understand. Was that some sort of title given to those transitioning to the other world? Asklepios? Who or what was that? A higher being like the Benefactors, or the actual name of one?

No. No. Finding answers to his current thoughts were necessary, but he had to rein himself back from focusing too much on them. Their answers weren’t something he could figure out just by thinking, that was obvious, and if he let himself get sucked into the search for one he would lose sight of what was currently more important. And that was the fact that his consciousness was slowly returning to him; he could once again feel the rhythmic pounding of his heart in his chest.

It can’t be…

Rain tried to mystify what was happening, but his brain told him that his thoughts were absolutely right.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

He let his mind wander towards the messages that had led up to the current one pulsing before his eyes, and he settled on the last one…

[Side Character Rain Leclair has found himself in a moment of despair. The seal on the Mark of Caduceus has been undone of its own will]...

Despair? Mark? My aid?

He did not need it spelled out to him. He was alive.

Seconds passed. Minutes followed—or so Rain thought. Whatever the case, time passed and he noticed the bleak darkness surrounding him change its form. There was still darkness all around, no doubt, it was just no longer void-like and more of a shut-in-a-room type.

Then returned his senses one after the other. First was his touch, and with that the oppressive pressure originating from the stifling heat clouding the domain that was surely the Anaconda’s stomach. His mind was abruptly bombarded with a grotesque feeling of fright for a brief moment there.

The next was his full hearing. Sounds both distant and close appeared out of the blue. He made them out one by one. There was the rhythmic squelching of the Anaconda’s stomach contracting, the gurgling sound of the digestive juices he seemed to be dipped within, and in the far, far distance, the occasional thuds of a beating heart that was not his.

He was weirdly attracted to that in particular for some reason beyond his mental capacity.

His sense of smell came back then too. And at that moment he realized that the sensation he was feeling due to his eyes pulsing was too weak to be tagged as nauseating. What little air was within this stomach was filled with a pungent stench of decayed matter so powerful that Rain toppled over in the sea of digestive juices and wretched uncontrollably. Now that was nauseating.

What the hell?!

Despite not understanding what was going on, Rain decided then and there that he couldn’t remain one more minute inside the Anaconda’s stomach. And to do that he had to force it to spit him out.

There was only one thing he could do in that regard. Luckily, he had held onto his lifesaver even in the face of imminent death.

Relying on his instinct, Rain pushed through the dense liquid reaching up to his knee and arrived at a section of the wall of the Anaconda’s stomach. Upon getting there, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his broken knife and stabbed what was left of it into the fleshy wall before him.

There was a rumble. But since it was not enough to drop him to his buttocks he felt like he had not done enough yet.

After stabbing five or so more times, each succeeding one with a greater force than the last, Rain finally fell down as his surroundings reverberated. As soon as he did, the liquid beneath him rose, and as though they had been filled with vigor of theirs, whooshed aggressively, carrying Rain from the stifling compartment he was stuck within and out into the desolate earth he had never once thought he would miss so much.

Through the loud hisses pouring out from high over his head, Rain sucked in a breath of the fresh, earthy, and revitalizing air that made up the world beyond the Anaconda’s stomach and rose to his feet from the swamp of the gooey fluid spread out beneath him.

He noticed it then, his vision had truly changed.

It was not the Plexus’s message that had the thick red color of blood, it was his sight as a whole.

His view of the world, of the varying colors it used to be, was no longer the same. Everything was now pulsing and dyed red.

Although—uncannily, to be precise—it all felt natural, like he had always been this way. And of course it did not stop him from seeing the disgusting things like half-decayed flesh, organs, and bones that were on the ground around his feet—there were stones and tree stumps as well.

But these were not why Rain froze while staring down.

Through the heavy pattering of the rain cleansing him as much as it could of the sticky liquid smeared over his body, Rain saw what little skin that remained on his face squirming and twisting, each one stretching and reaching out for the other as they slowly covered the white of the bone that made up his skull.

For a moment there he had been without flesh.