Between heaven and earth, countless black connectors appeared before my eyes. Everything here resembled a vast cavern. The connectors were slender in the middle and thick at both ends, stretching into the distance with no end in sight.
On the ground lay pools of black water. I stepped into one. Strangely, I felt a sense of peace—the strongest emotion I had now. I had returned to the place where I was born. I smiled wryly, helpless. I didn’t know what any of this was, but the one thing I did know was that this was hell in its truest sense.
I stood quietly in the black pool. At that moment, I saw myself—a face with hollow, black eyes and pale cheeks, no features, only black pupils dotted with flickering white specks like grains of sand. Two strange bloodstains ran down my cheeks, stretching all the way to my chin.
"Strange feeling, isn’t it?"
I spoke. After arriving here, everything had become clear to me. I knew now that I was only talking to myself. That ghost soul that died in my place was a false entity, separated from my body when it sensed danger. It died for me, then merged into the Six Paths.
At that moment, I noticed something bright and white not far away. I drifted gently toward it, gray dust trailing from my body. As I moved, the dust spread around me. I quietly landed before a white stone that glimmered with a faint light. The massive stone was pierced through by several black connectors.
"Whatever I need, I can create."
I muttered to myself again, raising a hand. There was a crackling sound as the stone before me slowly shattered and transformed into a platform, with a chair on top. I leaped onto it and sat down. The black connectors began to slowly disperse around me.
Such changes brought joy to my heart. I used to hear many voices, but I can’t remember them now—voices of wills born in countless worlds, just like me. I am a gathering of wills, and my will is the will of hell.
"It doesn’t matter anymore. Those two—they’ve found their own lives, their own paths. Let them go."
I raised a single hand as a smear of black mist welled up from the ground, then condensed into a human shape without legs—only eyes identical to mine, and a face without a mouth or nose.
"I want wine!"
As I spoke, the figure beside me bowed, then floated upward, gliding through strands of black connective matter. In an instant, that shadowy form vanished, yet in the blink of an eye, he stood before me, holding a small bottle of Morning Dew Wine. The pure liquid shimmered with flecks of light. I took it from him.
"I want something to eat!"
The figure beside me disappeared again. With a wave of my hand, a wine glass appeared in my palm. Now I fully understood why this emptiness could grant me whatever I desired—this was the power of Infernal Hell. All along, within the illusion, I never knew how this force came to be, but now I am certain.
Staring at the crystalline wine in my glass, a mouth and tongue, then teeth, formed where my faceless visage had been. A nose grew in as well. I took a tentative sip—this was Morning Dew Wine, sweet and faintly spicy, cool as it slid down my throat, then blooming into a ball of warmth in my gut.
Soon, a roast chicken and several small dishes were brought by faceless figures whose eyes were black as sand. I raised my hand and the ground stirred—suddenly, a spotless white table appeared before me, the food arranged neatly atop it. I drank another small glass, amused, as the figures quietly vanished.
In this world, I am utterly alone. It brings a kind of peace, but also a dull boredom. I want to return to the illusion, but for now, I cannot.
"Damn you, Wraithlord."
I muttered coldly. Of all things in existence capable of bearing my consciousness, only the Ectoplasmic Forest remains. The past and future terminal stations still exist, but I have no desire to see those two figures again.