I am a rational man.

I have never had any mental illnesses, nor am I intellectually impaired. I was a content man, one that had been satisfied with his daily life, until this very moment.

The previous events are still fresh in my mind.

The lights overhead were dim, bright enough to cast a faint glow over the bloodied surroundings, illuminating the work that had been done in the cramped shack.

I had stumbled out, clutching the gaping hole in my side. My right hand gripped the mangled flesh tightly, but the sensation of warm blood slipping between the gaps of my fingers would not stop.

There was an accident, and I had made a fatal misjudgement.

I lurched forward, my feet nearly tripping over the axe I had dropped. The wooden handle was stained crimson, but the blood was not mine.

I continued the long march forward, following the beaten path that led to the river, treading the thin wire of life. I was determined to hang on to that wire, even if it meant my hands would be rubbed raw, down to the very bone.

But unfortunately, I could not make it to my dear river, for my strength had run out before I could even make it halfway.

I had collapsed, smashing my face onto the dirt, the rest of my heavy body following in pursuit.

So here I am now, laying in a pool of my own dirty blood.

My eyes began to burn as they strained to look at the setting sun, the sky behind it a hue of magnificent purple.

The clouds gently wafted by, rays of divine light piercing through them.

Is today a Saturday, or is it a Sunday?

I raised the cuff of my sleeve, wiping the trickling blood that leaked from the corner of my upturned mouth.

“Mom… Dad… I’m sorry.”

DONG

DONG

DONG

The clashing sound of church bells echoed throughout the silent forest.

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Ah, so it's a Sunday.

Then, will you answer my final request, God?

Just give me one more chance to live a happy life.

Please.

My eyes closed for the final time.

Then, the strangest and longest dream began.

...

I opened my eyes once more, feeling disoriented.

But I couldn’t see anything, the oppressive darkness seemed to swallow every fragment of light and sound.

My breaths came out in ragged, panicked gasps. The air, or whatever passed for air here, was cold and heavy, pressing down on me.

I strained my eyes, searching for something, anything.

And then I saw it.

A massive hand, grotesquely disproportionate, materialized from the void. Its fingers were stretched out, and the skin was a sickly gray, covered with violently pulsating veins. The nails were long and sharp, curved like claws, and each joint creaked ominously as it moved.

Its mere presence was suffocating.

I felt a primal fear clawing at my insides, a recognition of something ancient and beyond comprehension. Despite my racing heart, I tried to calm myself.

Is that God?

No, something more sinister.

YOU ARE CRUEL.

THE WORLD YOU WILL BE REBORN IN IS CRUEL.

In an instant, giving me no chance to react, the hand thrusted forward and wrapped around my body.

And very slowly, it began to crush me.

It started gently, like a mother’s embrace. But the pressure continued to rise, seemingly exponentially.

I can’t move.

I can’t escape.

My limbs are pinned, my ribs are being pressed inwards, and I can feel my bones straining, bending under the weight. The fingers press against me from every direction, leaving me gasping for breath, but even the act of breathing feels like an impossible task.

The pressure intensifies, squeezing the air from my lungs.

Every second feels like an eternity.

The pain is relentless.

And in my last moments of clarity, a soft voice brushes past my ear.

“I’m sure that in your next life, you will die in the worst way possible. ”

----------------------------------------

The world jolted around me, a sensation that felt like being hurled through a hurricane. I tried to focus, but the surroundings were a blur of deep crimson and shifting black.

As my sight cleared, I realized something very worrisome.

I was in an enormous hall.

High ceilings arched like the belly of an ancient beast, and the walls were adorned with twisted carvings illuminated by the flickering torchlight. The floor beneath me was smooth and cold, a dark obsidian.

I glanced down at my trembling hands, only to find them a shade of red and strangely elongated. The nails were long and razor sharp, and also a similar crimson color.

What the hell is happening?

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the chamber.

In the middle of the hall, on a throne of obsidian and iron, sat a figure that radiated an oppressive power. I felt a shiver run through me.

His presence was overwhelming.

Wait, is that thing even a human?

Two thick horns jutted out of his forehead, one of them sawed off at the stump. Massive, bat-like wings stretched out from his back, and a serpent-like tail laid limp on the floor.

Only one word pounded inside my head.

Demon.

In front of the throne, a smaller demon was speaking. His voice was a guttural, gravelly sound.

“...We will attack the academy in one year,” the demon's words cut through the haze, “So before that.."

"You must kill as many prospective students as possible."