Dreams come by, flashes of regrets, signs of vivid images of a woman singing in a melodic voice, reached through Olen as he travels distance throughout from his own consciousness.
Time, a clock you might say, just like a moment of passing death, looming as time stops, as regrets appear like a hailing storm. However,
"Can I think?" he wondered, while maintaining his composure. He couldn't feel his feet, but it felt as though he was walking on something. It felt like he was stepping in a fog, a white space filled with invisible pressure, as if he was restrained by some kind of force.
He was certain that he was dead, but he didn't believe in anything that is so-called heaven. So he made an assumption, "Samsara? A test of the soul, where deeds and faults are judged? If so, where is the adjudicator?" he thought.
"I don't believe I came here just to be trapped in an endless blank space," Olen stated, appearing confident.
As he looked through the midst of the fog, Olen took a step forward. But while looking back at the endless void, he was not sure if he could find anyone that might answer his question...
Endless steps have begun since Olen woke up. Finding no path, no cross, no signs had emerged ever since he walked this path alone. His steps started on a transparent floor before him. What’s waiting for him on the other side is unknown, with no floors to warn him of what’s come. Each step took a risk without a premonition to choose from, and only to be relieved that aside from the void, at least he was taking the right step.
He doubted his resilience. Loneliness took over him as he murmured words infused with tiredness, regrets, and hatred. But he didn't stop believing in something, even though it was already gone, along with his death as a mortal.
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He didn't know how much time had passed without the knowledge of time to tell whether it was already noon or morning. He hesitated... As he felt tiredness crumbling his determination. And for someone without the restraints of flesh, Olen didn't feel any tiredness but felt his own will start to crumble.
Doubts came in like a tide, pushing him to the brink of insanity. His resilience wavered, but Olen's determination continued to pave his will, unwilling to bend down in the face of destiny.
Olen stretched his hand, trying to grasp at something he could find at least in his heart—something that he could call hope. He said: “Shilla” and at that moment, Olen's voice echoed through the deepest abyss, as his eyes shone and brimmed with anger and hope.
Olen's momentum grew and he became more assured, each step followed by the pain from the day he received when he lost his own self from his illness, it brought madness, an endless obsession to retake what he deserved.
As Olen's madness took shape, the souls that once took the path of darkness, the sheer instinct that was left behind in defiance against the light, responded to him. And like a sponge, Olen's aura rose to an unprecedented will, as the swirling of madness took over him, carrying the countless souls seeking redemption merged within his will.
Olen's eyes blazed like a slumbering dragon, igniting with a fiery red that echoed the roar of a beast ready to destroy everything in its path.
In a split second, a vision appeared before him. A memory of a young man, whose presence commanded fear and respect from his enemies, depicting an aura of a valiant warrior wielding a sword that could cut down any god, and anything in his sight.
Time seemed to stand still as Olen was captured by the domineering aura of the young man. The young man reached for his sword's hilt, lifting it towards the sky. A rebellious energy rose from within him, as if he was reaching for something greater.
Anger, hatred, and vengeance filled Olen's being, like a bottomless pit of an ocean made from bitterness, unwillingness, and sorrow. He felt the endless rage boil within him as he gazed up at the sky. The young man opened his mouth and turned his head towards Olen, speaking in a calm and assured tone:
"Defy, unruly, thus righteous. To defy fate, gods must be abolished."
Fueled by the voice in his mind, Olen raised his sword to the sky and shouted, "Let the dragon's fire reach the skies and reign over the endless void!"
"FUSH ROAH DOA"
[You have awakened a fragment of a spirit living from the Gate of Souls]