Act One: First restart

Chapter 3: What is this shit?

"You can believe me, old friends are like moneylenders, they tend to show up when you least expect it, and seeing them again is sometimes as nice as catching smallpox. "

- Robert Taldur, an itinerant imperial tax collector in the province of Westmarch

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

As he was swept away in a whirlwind of fire and pain, Mars was unable to tell if his screams were real or if he imagined himself doing it while his body and mind were consumed by suffering like his bones had been replaced by lava.

Sadly, his soul did not seem destined for eternal rest or for delightful happiness surrounded by hot women. Unfair, but he hadn't brushed his teeth for a long time, it would surely have scared them away anyway. What a gentleman he is, even death could not take away his chivalry,

Hey, if a God is looking at me from somewhere, don't forget to add it to my credit, okay?

he had always wondered if there was another life after death, and if so, what it could look like.

Considering that he had lived in a world where magic and gods existed, the answer should logically have been easy to find, but the sorcerers, wizards, priests, saints and sages had had very mixed opinions on this question.

I guess for this kind of thing, you can only check it by yourself.

During all these years, he had consumed souls in countless quantities, and he had always asked himself one question: Did the soul have an indestructible and immortal part that guaranteed a kind of eternal existence? Or did it disappear after its energy and vital power had been consumed? What happened to the souls of those who were defiled? And most importantly: what would happen to his soul?

Logically the curse of Narkasum and its fire should protect his soul from being consumed by the demons or the Nightmare Lord he had invoked, but so many things had gone wrong that he was not so sure he could trust what he had been told about it. Well, considering how he was literally being burned by the fire of Narkasum, it wouldn't be long before he would know one of the answers to his questions.

Well, it was the perfect time to reflect and speculate on these kinds of questions, after all, thinking about something really helped him to forget in part the excruciating pain he felt as he was consumed by a devouring fire. It may have been because he had no physical body, but it seemed impossible for him to faint now. It was really very bad news.

Where would he go now? Did reincarnation exist? Do elf women wear sexy panties or do they prefer not to wear anything at all? Why was he summoned to participate in this stupid war? What happened to his grandfather when the great invocation began? Why had the so-called Chosen One, who according to ancient writings was supposed to save the world, never appeared? Why did most of the elves he had seen have small breasts?

Heck, so few questions and so much time to think about it

But strangely, as time passed and he screamed, the pain of the flames changed, almost insignificantly and imperceptibly. At first the change was slow, very slow, but little by little, no matter how many burning flames tried to consume him, no matter how much they roared to reduce him and burn the impurities of his soul, something resisted it.

It was as if the flames, born of the eternal and creative light of all life, were slowly being devoured by an icy cold from eternal nothingness.

The burning pain was gradually disappearing to coexist with something else, something very different. The flames were partially swallowed and turned into a kind of pale, lifeless light that filtered down from above, but it didn't make him feel any better, and in some ways it was much worse.

It was as if a dark, icy light had enveloped his whole soul. This dark gray light promised nothing, as if all hope and warmth had disappeared from the world, and the light would never shine again. No brighter tomorrow. Only an icy, perpetual chill. It was as if the fire of the world itself was extinguished.

At one point, it seemed to him that the presence of the spark that ignited the burning flames, had resigned, went to hide in his heart to find refuge, waiting for a distant day, from which she could come out of his exile.

Then suddenly an iridescent light surrounded him, as if she had come to look for him and protect him from something, she radiated a warm and melancholic feeling. The next moment he found the more usual sensations of a physical body, almost as if he had one again.

Well, speaking of heat, there was just such a hot air, charged with the smell of shit and moldy garbage, almost like the deadly chemical weapons that his grandfather would release after an overly large meal that was blown in his face. Indeed, as he had expected, the torments inflicted after death seemed as numerous as they were varied.

This... this is not what he had expected.

And unexpectedly, he heard a series of quite familiar noises. Screaming, crying, coughing and noises of movement around him as his own lungs burned with every breath and his body began to cough violently.

"Wait, what?"

When he opened his eyelids, the light filled his vision, and his eyes narrowed in discomfort. Through his eyes were fogged with tears, he could see his naked, trembling body lying on the ground.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

As he turned his head, dozens of men and women, and even teenagers, no, there were more than that, probably hundreds of them, were lying in grotesque poses similar to his, coughing in the same manner as he did, cowering and all lying and shaking pitifully on the granular red stone floor that served as their bed, even though unlike him, most of them had clothes on.

The lines of golden metal, embedded in the ground, evoked the strange patterns so characteristic of ritual triangles, probably intended for some evil spell, still pulsating with an effervescent glow like dawn as the magic that inhabited them faded with each pulsation.

He had a terrible headache and could not think straight. It was as if someone had run over him with a truck, realized he was still alive, and then put the truck in reverse to roll up on him and finish the job.

"What the fuck..?"

What was that place? Searching for answers, and laboriously straightening his body, he raised his head to look around, unable to understand what he was seeing. The many humanoids on the ground looked like a grotesque sight, it reminded him of the boxes of blue-headed maggots that he used to fish in the rivers when he was a child. Struggling against gravity and his wobbly sense of balance, he managed to get up again, emerging victorious from his fight against himself.

Now standing, looked around him. Above, there was a large arch-shaped dome wrapped in pure white marble, in the corners of the room, huge stone pillars covered with symbols were present, while on the walls a faint red light came from lanterns hung on the walls, illuminating the whole building in a kind of infernal atmosphere.

Scattered throughout the room were demons in the appearance of women dressed in purple robes and embroidered with silver lines. Their robes decorated with a crystalline pattern that bore a striking resemblance to that worn by the servants of the Wizard's Order of Eredar, he had never seen in any believer of the nightmare gods or demons. Further on, several dozen demons, this time in the appearance of men, armed and dressed in uniforms that largely covered their armor with mesh.

As time passed, many people in the circle stood up, but despite some shouting or crying, most of them were as responsive as zombies. It all just looked like a big mess, okay, but something was missing. Where was the blood, the suffering, the cries of pain, and the tortured souls?

He saw no blood, perceived no suffering, and heard nothing that resembled cries of pain. No infernal pyre, no meat shredders or bone grinders. No torture machines on which signs with capital letters DEATH-DESTRUCTION-SUFFER could have been hung.

There was only an invisible feeling of peace floating in the air, almost as if something sacred was present here, which made no sense.

He didn't have the misfortune of visiting many places that exist in the immaterial dimensions, but all those he saw left their mark in his mind forever. Everything was different in the worst way, there was an evil that was as indefinable as it was powerful. Yet he felt none of this here.

Perhaps since his last visit, some King, Lord or God, tired of the dilapidated state of his kingdom or simply annoyed by the obvious lack of taste and style of the place he ruled over, had decided to hire a new decorator and a very large team of sweepers?

And why did this place look vaguely familiar?

Suddenly, the currents of magic in the place became agitated and reshaped as the demons sang in a melodious language that was very familiar to him, which did not really resemble the demonic tongues he was used to, but rather the language was usually sung by sorcerers.

A rain of tiny twinkling stars floated in the air, caressing the bodies of the unfortunate humans in the ritual triangle that was gradually losing its clarity. The spell brought a welcome calm to his mind and heart, making him more lucid and more aware of his surroundings.

One of them, who radiated a magical aura much stronger than the others, and used a human appearance of a remarkably beautiful and bewitching woman, signaled to a demon, probably a warrior given his massive silhouette, who had the appearance of a man who probably used to squeeze a tank or two in the morning in order to put himself in a good mood.

The warrior's stature was as thick as a tree trunk, he nodded his head, and gave his orders to the minions who accompanied them.

Soon they all took up positions around the ritual triangle, one man advancing more than the others. The demon had the appearance of a warrior, his eyes the color of pale steel, giving off a faint silvery glow as they solemnly crossed the stage before him, his impassive face was covered with a long scar from chin to forehead; lying in his heavy armor worked and set with precious stones.

Mars was puzzled, why did each of them use their human appearance? The metamorph demons often did so, but it was under very different circumstances, to deceive naive humans, or in any situation where the use of such subterfuge would be of interest, but here, in a dimension entirely under their control, what was the point of doing it?

The demon in armor began to speak in a voice that was strong and deep, but much softer and more melodious than one would expect from a demon of his size, conveying something bewitching, almost supernatural. "Welcome to you, Terrans."

The demon with a human appearance frowned: "I am aware that at this moment you may think that what you are experiencing seems so far removed from your daily reality that it seems unreal, in the same way, that dreams or nightmares accompany your nights of unconsciousness". Taking a short break, his gaze quickly turned to the whole group: "But I would also like you to know that no matter how impossible, no matter how absurd your current situation may seem to you, it is not the fruit of your imagination or your dementia, but as real and concrete as you may conceive it to be. Those moments of doubt and confusion that you are experiencing now will find, relatively safely and quickly, and awareness of the situation in which you find yourself.".

The demon voice gave him a headache, and the invisible influence contained in the man's voice did not help to clear up the confusion in his mind.

"It's funny, I feel like I've heard that before, what was it again?"

The irises of the demon shone with a faint glow when he began to speak again with his melodious and unrealistic voice carrying a kind of magic charm. "Rest assured that as representatives of the authorities in charge of the kingdoms of the continent of Enoa, we will work with all the diligence and dedication that it is reasonable to show so that you can adapt in the most beneficial way possible to the changes you are currently experiencing, as quickly and simply as possible".

Rejoiced at the subservience of the damned souls before him, the man continued his discourse. "I hope, therefore, that you will show, in your own interest as well as in ours, the greatest cooperation with my men and me that you will be able to exercise during these confusing hours of great change in your existence, however abrupt and disorienting they may be. "

The man continues, looking serious, his eyes of steel giving the impression of carrying with them a heaviness and bitterness that he had never seen in a demon, adding weight to each of his words. "You who are here on this day must know that your presence is not the result of chance or an accident, it is simply the result of many intertwined causes. Yes, ever since you woke up, you have certainly been wondering how you got here and why you are here. On top of everything else, every answer will have its time, so I invite you to devote your full attention to my words".

Mars almost cursed this old fucker when he remembered why it all felt so familiar. What he saw looked absurdly like a scene from his past life.

"No, it's not just that it looks like it...."

These were exactly the first things he had seen the day he was summoned on Yvelmore.

"What the fuck is this shit?!"