Bob took a few quick steps back in shock at the now clear presence of the ghostly Squirrel. His breath quickened, as his mind reeled at the familiar voice and figure. Bob snapped his eyes shut trying to reconcile what he saw with reality. How is this possible? This Squirrel is dead. I killed him myself. What the hell is going on? Is my time in the Abyss affecting my mind already?

"Squirrelius? Is that you? Are you real?" Bob asked hesitantly opening his eyes.

"Ah, so you do remember your victim's names? That's something, I guess." Squirrelius shot back.

Bob's mind, still partially in shock and angry at the accusation, tried to catch back up. Before Bob came back to his senses, Squirrelius continued speaking.

"I am Squirrelius Maximus, Commander of the Armies of the Hawthorn Forest Kingdom, General of the Royal Guardian Legions, and loyal servant to the Crown Prince Acornius. Father to a murdered son. Husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next!"

"I.." Bob tried to speak before being interrupted.

"I will hear no excuses from a murderous monster! You committed atrocities, and now you will pay the price."

"It wasn't murder. It was self-defense. Your Crown Prince attacked me."

"Semantics, Bob! You trespassed on Royal Soil, and you were attacked for it. You're a monster. You slaughtered the Crown Prince, his soldiers, and his attendants. You took everything from me in one fell swoop. My wife and son were among his attendants. I didn't even know until after you killed me in battle, and I saw them both here."

"I didn't know... I was just trying to survive."

"None of that matters! You are here now. This place has the potential to be your salvation or your damnation. If it were up to me, I would slaughter you on the spot without remorse. But this place has rules. Rules that all must adhere to. If you can survive the ordeal, then this place will release its hold on you. If you don't survive, then I and my kind will be free of this place."

"An ordeal? What kind of ordeal are you talking about?"

"You can either accept the ordeal or refuse. Bear in mind that refusal will result in your soul becoming a permanent resident of this place."

"What kind of twisted justice is this?"

"It's the only justice we have. You brought this upon yourself, Bob. Now, make your choice. Accept the ordeal or become a permanent resident of this place."

"What is the ordeal? What must I do to escape this place?" Bob demanded.

"It's quite simple really."

"If it's so damned simple, then just tell me what I must do!"

"Survive."

Bob's jaw dropped and his breath halted in his chest. Yet again Bob found himself in a precarious position. Fuck this realm. Fuck this stupid tower. And FUCK these goddamn squirrels. Internal cursing aside, Bob took a deep breath, steeled himself, and then spoke.

"I accept."

"Welcome to Squirrel Hell!"

Bob blinked quickly as his surroundings morphed from nearly pure darkness into a nightmarish hellscape, filled with smoke, and flames. Bob covered his ears as the wails of the squirrels damned for eternity began to overwhelm his senses, which quickly turned to pain. Through the pain, he could hear the faint whisper of Squirrelius as his ghostly figure vanished.

"I'm coming for you. We're all coming for you, Murderer!"

Bob shook his head, clearing the disorientation he felt from the overwhelming screams. His eyes darted back and forth, surveying the surrounding area for any signs of enemies. For the moment Bob's scan came back empty. He lifted his foot to move forward and out of the corner of his eyes he saw smoke part in the distance, as ghostly apparitions began to manifest.

A large group of squirrels crept out of the smoke toward Bob. The ghastly appearance of the squirrels frightened him to his very core. They were dreadful to look at, covered in battle wounds. A majority of them were missing appendages, even whole limbs. Bob's fragile psyche couldn't stomach their appearance, he doubled up, and vomit poured out of his mouth. The scurry of squirrels began to cackle at the sight. They thoroughly enjoyed seeing their murderer in such distress, it brought a little brightness to their dreary existence in Squirrel Hell.

Bob activated the Rolodex to summon some reinforcements for the battle to come. He patiently waited for the reels to manifest like they always do. The Artifact didn't even stir, no reels popped up. Bob was flabbergasted. What the hell? Rolodex you better not be fucking with me right now! No sarcastic comment came through. Not a single word was said by the sentient Rolodex. Oh, Shit! Does it not work here? Why doesn't it work here? Bob did what any self-respecting person would when their only ability failed them. He ran away.

The horrible sound of their laughter ended abruptly as they charged toward Bob. Bob sprinted through the eerie landscapes of Squirrel Hell, his heart pounding in his chest as he fled from the relentless pursuit of countless ghostly figures. The air was thick with an otherworldly chill, and the ground seemed to shift beneath his feet. The ethereal forms of the squirrel soldiers and citizens he had once slain chased him, their ghostly eyes filled with a haunting mixture of anger and despair.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The ghostly army pursued him with relentless determination, their spectral forms darting through the shadows and materializing out of thin air. The haunting whispers of the restless spirits echoed in his ears, accusing him of the crimes he had committed against their peaceful existence. Bob knew that his only chance of escape lay in confronting the very demons he had created.

As he ran, the landscape morphed into a surreal maze of twisted trees and murky fog. The air became suffused with an otherworldly glow, casting an eerie light on the ghastly specters that surrounded him. The squirrel soldiers, clad in spectral armor, brandished ethereal weapons as they closed in on their prey. Bob's breath came in ragged gasps, his every step met with the chilling reminder of the countless lives he had disrupted.

The first ghostly squirrel lunged at him, its translucent claws reaching for his throat. Bob instinctively dodged, his adrenaline-fueled reflexes kicking in. He felt a shiver as the ghostly claws passed through him, leaving an icy trail in their wake. Gathering his wits, he turned to face his spectral adversaries.

Fighting back against the tide of vengeful spirits, Bob swung wildly, attempting to disperse the apparitions that surrounded him. His fists connected with the ethereal forms, sending ripples through their ghostly bodies. Yet, with each defeated specter, two more emerged from the shadows, their numbers seeming to multiply exponentially.

Desperation set in as Bob realized that running and fighting might not be enough. He needed to find the source of the haunting and put an end to it. With determination etched on his face, he plunged deeper into the nightmarish landscape, guided by the haunting whispers that seemed to emanate from a distant, foreboding presence.

The terrain shifted again, this time into a ghostly town square where the spectral citizens he had wronged gathered in silent accusation. Their transparent eyes bore into his soul as he navigated the twisted streets, each step echoing with the weight of remorse. The ghostly figures crowded around him, their translucent forms merging and separating in a macabre dance of anger and sorrow.

Bob's journey through Squirrel Hell became a relentless battle against both the physical and emotional manifestations of his deeds. As he fought the ghostly soldiers, he couldn't shake the haunting memories of the squirrels he had slain. The faces of the furry creatures he had battled stared at him with reproach in their eyes.

The town square opened into a vast, desolate battlefield where the ghostly army awaited him, their numbers seemingly infinite. Bob squared his shoulders, determination replacing fear. He couldn't change the past, but he could confront the consequences of his actions and fight his way through the immense feeling of guilt that this place filled him with.

With newfound resolve, Bob waded into the sea of ghostly adversaries, his fists and feet a blur as he fought against the apparitions. However, the relentless onslaught took its toll, and fatigue set in. The ghostly soldiers closed in, their numbers overwhelming him. The fight devolved into a frantic back-and-forth between a man and a million squirrels.

Bob's primal instincts kicked in, and his hands and feet became blurs of motion. He unleashed a barrage of punches, kicks, chops, and crushing blows upon the ghostly squirrels that surrounded him. Each strike seemed to vanquish a squirrel, but their numbers appeared to be infinite. Bob's movements were fueled by a combination of fear and determination as he fought to survive in this surreal battleground.

The spectral squirrels weren't just apparitions; they were capable of inflicting real harm. Bob felt the sting of sword slashes, spear thrusts, bites, and scratches. The pain began to accumulate exponentially as the relentless assault continued. With every passing moment, the ethereal squirrels found new ways to torment him, their ghostly forms proving to be as formidable as any tangible adversary.

Despite his best efforts, Bob couldn't keep up with the relentless onslaught. Desperation set in as he realized that the odds were stacked against him. The million ghostly squirrels seemed to be an insurmountable force, and the weight of their attacks bore down on him. Sweat dripped from his furrowed brow, and his muscles ached from the ceaseless exertion.

In a desperate attempt to turn the tide, Bob's strategy shifted. His hands, now stained with spectral blood, reached out to grab squirrels off his body. In a gruesome twist, he bit into their ghostly forms, hoping to disrupt their incorporeal existence. It was a macabre scene, as Bob fought with a combination of martial prowess and savage determination.

As Bob bit into the ghostly squirrels, their forms flickered and vanished. A strange energy emanated from the bites, and more of the spectral rodents vanished. Bob's mind raced, trying to make sense of the supernatural dynamics at play. He realized that the squirrels were not only physical entities but also sustained by some otherworldly essence that he could exploit.

Despite this newfound revelation, the odds remained stacked against Bob. The million ghostly squirrels continued their relentless assault, undeterred by the loss of a few of their spectral kin. Bob's body bore the marks of countless bites and scratches, and his energy waned with each passing moment.

In his desperation, Bob's movements became increasingly erratic. Limbs flailed as he struck out at the ghostly horde, his actions fueled by a primal need for survival. The once-coordinated dance of martial combat devolved into a frenzied melee, with Bob fighting not just for victory but for his very existence in this bizarre plane of existence.

The battle raged on, the ethereal squirrels seemingly tireless in their pursuit of torment. Bob's cries of pain echoed through the ghostly landscape as he fought against overwhelming odds. Yet, in the midst of the chaos, a glimmer of determination remained in Bob's eyes. He refused to succumb to the million ghostly squirrels of Squirrel Hell without giving his all in the fight for his survival.

Caught in the frenzy, Bob failed to notice that his wild swings and kicks were now meeting only empty space. The once formidable horde that had surrounded him had dissipated into the ethereal mist, leaving him flailing at phantoms. It took him a few moments to realize that the threat had vanished, and in that moment of realization, he stopped abruptly.

Gasping for breath, Bob sank to the ground, his chest heaving with the exertion of the frantic battle. The silence that followed was punctuated only by the rustling of leaves in the night breeze. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead as he surveyed the now tranquil surroundings. The ghostly squirrels were nowhere to be seen. As the adrenaline began to subside, Bob felt the toll of the intense encounter on his body. Muscles burned with the ache of overexertion, and fatigue settled into his bones.

Bob rested on the ground of the battlefield, inside Squirrel Hell, his chest heaving as he struggled to calm his pounding heart and soothe his burning muscles after the grueling battle. Amidst the lingering smoke, two ghostly squirrels emerged, dwarfing the adversaries he had just faced. Bob's eyes widened as the all too familiar figure of Squirrelius, approached with unwavering resolve. Beside him, a larger squirrel, ominous and imposing, stepped forward. Trepidation gripped Bob as he met their gaze, uncertainty filling his thoughts.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Acornius, Crown Prince of the Hawthorn Forest Kingdom. We never got a chance to properly meet before you slew me from a distance like a coward."

Bob shifted his gaze from Squirrelius to Acornius and tried to recall if he had seen this massive squirrel in the first encounter he had with them. As he was sifting through his memories, Acornius started to walk toward him with a dignified gait.

"Tell me, Bob, Are you ready to die?"