Victor, slightly shaken from the sudden vision, stood up.
The monstrous, high-ceilinged halls that had tormented him were gone. He blinked a few times. No shift followed. No melting walls. No crimson sky splitting open above him.
The air was thick with smoke and rot. Flies buzzed. Far off, someone screamed, then was cut short. The world around him felt real, ugly,and breathing
"Where am I?" he muttered, more weary than confused.
His body felt heavier than it should've. He took a breath and ran a hand down his chest. The corruption was still there, faint now, but unmistakable—thin, black tendrils crawling just beneath the skin. It didn't hurt. Not anymore. It felt like it belonged to him.
He wasn't wearing his tattered suit anymore. That relic of a life long dead had finally vanished. What remained was a leaner, younger form. He was taller, probably around 185 centimeters now, his skin so pale he almost looked dead , lean muscle wrapped around his body. The tunic and pants he wore were barely holding together, frayed at the edges, caked in ash and dirt. His cloak was a disaster: riddled with holes, soaked in stains, trailing behind him like a rag.
He looked like something dragged out of a nasty sewer.
Completely exhausted he crouched and sat on a cracked stone slab.
Around him, the slums stretched endlessly. Crooked shacks made from rusted sheet metal and broken timber clung to each other like dying men. Fires burned in barrels. The alleys were narrow, suffocating and trash floated in pools of stagnant water, which made him grimace in disgust, Children darted through the alleys ,playing and shouting . A stray dog passed by on three legs, snarling at nothing.
It was a graveyard, not of the dead but of the living. And yet, Victor felt something unexpected.
He felt… calm.He didn't understand it at first. But as he sat there, letting the noise of the slums bleed into the background, he realized what it was.
Peace.