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Chapter 8: Companions Part 2

A man in urban clothes with a skull ski mask is chilling next to a statue depicting a god of some sort holding a lightning bolt. He’s people-gazing with a stupid look on his face… if you could see his face that is. This stark contrast between the mundane and the divine is a striking image, one that encapsulates the surreal environment he finds himself in. The urban setting is bizarrely juxtaposed with the mythical idea he had of the place he would have known as “Hell”. The statue, an imposing figure with a weathered patina, stands as a sentinel over the scene, its expression frozen in a fierce majesty that seems to mock the casual demeanor of the masked man.

The atmosphere is thick with an unsettling blend of familiarity and estrangement.

You know… if this is Hell then why are there so many humans here? He muses aloud, his voice a low rumble beneath the mask.

I mean, I clearly see monsters too, but everyone is acting like this is Earth or something. The question hangs in the air, punctuated by the distant sounds of laughter and shouting that echo through the urban sprawl. The streets are alive, pulsing with an energy that feels both foreign and oddly comforting.

Yet, the absurdity of the scene is profound. People stroll by, engaged in normal activities: a couple arguing over a coffee, a group of friends taking selfies, a vendor peddling brightly colored trinkets. They seem blissfully unaware of their surroundings, as if the very fabric of reality has shifted and they remain clueless in its wake. It’s giving me uncanny valley vibes, man… he says, shaking his head slightly, the mask hiding a frown etched with confusion.

Must you always be spacing out? a voice interrupts his reverie. It’s a sharp tone, filled with exasperation.

Sigh, at a time like this you could take your situation a little more seriously, you know. The voice belongs to a companion, someone who stands out in this chaotic realm,

Dressed in what looks to be a dark purple gown with fur meeting the edges of her dress and bridal gauntlet. Flowing blonde hair and eyes as red as rubies. The Wight Demon could easily be mistaken for human if it wasn’t for her pale white skin or her phantom claws, she is and carries a sophisticated aura about her.

Her name is Brannelle Virant, and she is far from your average companion in this tumultuous world. Known for her fierce independence and enigmatic past, Brannelle effortlessly commands attention. She embodies the essence of paradox; an enigma wrapped in chains, her attire a blend of holiness and rebellion.

This is, as I guessed, a place where humans go when they enter hell. But Limbo, contrary to popular belief, isn’t the fiery pit of despair often depicted in literature and films. Instead, it presents itself as a vast, gray expanse, shrouded in an eerie twilight that flickers between dusk and dawn. The air feels thick and heavy, almost like molasses, and the ground beneath our feet is a barren landscape of pebbles and shadowy silhouettes of what once might have been lush fields.

As I stand here, my heart races with a mix of fear and curiosity. I can see others around me—spirits adrift, their faces etched with confusion and sorrow. They wander aimlessly, caught in an endless loop of introspection, forever searching for a way out. It’s a haunting sight, one that makes me wonder if this is truly a punishment or simply a purgatorial pause, a holding cell for the lost souls of humanity.

We have been lazing about long enough Krieg, if we are to leave this place, we need a plan.

He chuckles under the mask, the humor of the situation not lost on him. A plan? What, like we’re going to start a revolution against the rulers of this domain? Or maybe just find a way back to Earth before we end up as lunch for one of those monsters? His sarcasm only serves to fuel her frustration, but he can’t help himself. The absurdity is intoxicating. I got a sweet plan, it’s called “sit here and wait for the boss to do his thing”.

Krieg's irreverence cuts through the heavy air like a knife, and for a moment, I feel a flicker of hope. Maybe I need to lighten up. But as I glance around, I see the truth in the faces of the lost souls. It’s not just fear that grips them; it’s despair—a deep-seated belief that they are trapped forever in this shadowy realm, separated from the warmth of the living world.

Krieg, I say, my voice barely a whisper, what if we are meant to be here for a reason? What if this is our chance to confront our pasts, to reckon with the choices we've made?

He turns to me, his mask shifting slightly as if he were considering my words. You really think they’d put us in this hellhole to teach us something? Sounds more like a cosmic joke to me.

As he speaks, I catch the glimmer of something in his eyes—perhaps a hint of understanding, a sliver of doubt about his flippant attitude. But I shake my head, unwilling to let his cynicism drag me down.

As if right on queue a large dark portal opens up pulsating with an eerie energy that seems to draw the eye and pull at the very fabric of reality. The air thickens with tension as the swirling vortex.

Looks like our ride is here!

Is this why you were lazing around for a while?

Oh yeah pretty much. I knew if my boss was also in Hell and was also hearing this strange voice in my head, he’d be the one to do all the work in no time. I just had to wait for the summons. C’mon let’s go already, I’m dying to see where this leads us.

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Meanwhile…

On the battlefield were weapons scattered across the floor. A grave for dead warriors, the ground was covered in pools of blood. The sky was a burning red and the soil was muddy. This was not just a physical landscape; it was a testament to the tumultuous clash of ideals, a chronicle of sacrifice and valor etched into the very earth beneath.

What lay before the onlooker was a haunting panorama of destruction and loss. The air, thick with the acrid scent of smoke and iron, hung heavily around the remnants of what was once a vibrant combat zone. Here, dreams of glory and honor had been extinguished, leaving behind only the memories of those who had fought with fervor. Each discarded sword and shield whispered tales of bravery, while the remnants of banners fluttered like ghosts amid the debris—a stark reminder of the fleeting nature of life and legacy.

Hana was in the midst of battle, for what seemed like an all out war with no sides. Just absolute carnage and chaos engulfed the landscape. She moved with a blend of instinct and desperation, her heart pounding in her chest as she ducked behind a crumbling wall. The echoes of clashing metal and anguished cries reverberated through the air, each sound punctuating the reality that this was a fight for survival rather than glory.

Hana had never anticipated finding herself in such a dire situation. The needless war had not only claimed her peace and tranquility she was afforded when arriving in Hell but had also transformed her into a reluctant warrior. Her fingers trembled as she clutched a makeshift dagger, forged from the remains of a shattered sword. It was a far cry from the combat knife but right about now she would prefer a weapon with more reach and power. But desperation had a way of adapting the spirit. Each encounter with the enemy was a visceral reminder that the line between supporter and fighter had blurred irrevocably. With each strike, she felt a part of her soul tarnish, but survival left little room for moral dilemmas.

As she peered over the wall, her eyes scanned the horizon—a chaotic symphony of fire and fury. Shadows darted among the ruins, silhouettes of adversaries and allies alike. Hana spotted her friend and only companion through the battlefield and waved for her to come quickly. She was an Ochimusha, a dead samurai demon.

Her arms and legs were covered in armor while her breasts were only wrapped with bandages exposing her midriff. She had long black hair tied up but was still extensive, deadlike fish eyes and pale skin. Covered in blood of the fallen, spotting the girl in the decorative mask she made her way towards Hana.

I thought the path to the Demon God’s Castle wouldn’t be such a perilous journey, Nagai.

If I must say though, it may be a bad time. I knew we shouldn’t have strayed from the paved road but you just had to take the alternative route because it, and I quote, looked like a shorter path, Nagai retorted.

I never really had a good sense of direction I’ll admit but this is by far the worst situation I found myself in yet. Being mauled to death wasn’t enough apparently. But this feeling between fear and adrenaline, I never felt more alive than I do now, what a rush, it’s straight dopamine! Here I can choose how I die and come back from the dead. Unlike the weak pathetic me that died from being a fucking chew toy, I have the power to fight off monsters in Hell. YAHOO!

How much I love your spirit brave one but we shouldn’t waste our time in a war that will never end. We must continue onwards with ours, I mean, your mission. Which means we must reach the other side of this path.

Then it’s a simple plan, bulldoze our way to the end, let’s go!

Yes let us revel in the glory of combat, I mean to get past our adversaries to continue on with the mission!

The duo plunged into the fray with a reckless abandon that only those who had tasted death and come back could truly understand. With each step, the ground trembled beneath them, as if Hell itself was aware of their defiant march. The sky above was a swirling vortex of reds and blacks, casting an eerie glow on their path.

I can almost taste the victory, Hana shouted, her eyes alight with a fierce, otherworldly fire. These monsters won’t know what hit them!

From the smoky haze emerged the first wave of adversaries—nightmarish beasts with gnarled limbs and eyes like burning coals. They lunged at the intruders with a howl that seemed to split the very air.

With a battle cry, the Hana charged forward, slashing through the air with a weapon that glowed with an ethereal light, she managed to pick up a battleaxe. Each strike met its mark with a burst of dark essence, the monsters crumbling into smoldering heaps before they could even react.

Her companion, Nagai, calm and focused, took a more measured approach. She moved through the battlefield with calculated precision, dodging and weaving with a grace that belied the chaos around them. With each enemy they struck down, the duo’s synergy grew more apparent.

Careful! the companion called out as a massive, horned creature reared up behind the brave one. Without hesitation, they unleashed an energy strike, cutting the beast before it could reach its target.

Thanks! I was just about to give it a permanent vacation, Hana replied with a grin, never missing a beat in their relentless assault.

As they pushed forward, the landscape seemed to shift, growing more treacherous with each step. Rivers of molten lava cut through the terrain, and the air grew hotter, almost unbearable. Yet, they pressed on, driven by their purpose and the raw exhilaration of the fight.

Finally, they reached a narrow bridge of obsidian, stretching over a chasm of swirling darkness. On the other side, the path continued into what appeared to be a cavern, its entrance framed by jagged rock formations.

We’re almost there, Hana said, catching their breath. Just a little further and we’ll be past this hellish gauntlet.

Without missing the momentum they ready themselves for what lies ahead. A huge vortex opens up in front of them pulling them ever closer to the portal. Without missing the momentum, they ready themselves for what lies ahead. A huge vortex opens up in front of them, pulling them ever closer to the portal. The swirling maelstrom of energy and shadows beckons with an almost hypnotic force, its edges crackling with unspoken power.

The brave one grips their weapon tightly, eyes gleaming with determination. “This is it,” they shout over the roaring winds. “We’re not turning back now!”

The companion nods, their face a mask of focused resolve. “Hold tight and stay close. We’ll face whatever’s on the other side together.”

As they approach the portal, the force of the vortex becomes almost unbearable. It tugs at their very souls, threatening to tear them apart. With a final burst of speed, they leap into the vortex together, feeling the world around them warp and twist.

In an instant, they are engulfed by the swirling energies. The cacophony of sounds and colors is overwhelming, but amidst the chaos, they feel a powerful surge of exhilaration and anticipation. The sensations are intense, as though every nerve is alight with raw, unfiltered energy.

Then, just as abruptly as it began, the whirlwind subsides…