"I ought to kill you right now."
Hill sighed, albeit shakily, as he stared into the barrel of the Desert Eagle that was aimed at his forehead. He wasn't in a position to argue either. After all, he was currently tied to a chair with his hands bound behind his back.
"I wish you would."
His father, an ugly excuse for a man, raised an eyebrow. It was the only indicator of emotion on his emotionless face. With a mane of tangled black hair and eyes like the blood moon, he certainly looked like the demon Hill imagined him to be.
"And why is that?"
Hill looked to his left as he eyed the emptied bottles of whiskey that he had obediently fetched for his father the month before. What a mistake that was, for Hill was completely sure that the spirits within those bottles drove his usually docile father into murdering his mother and sister.
Or maybe, he had finally gone mad.
"I don't know, Father. Perhaps I can't stand the idea of breathing the same air as a murderer."
His father laughed, throwing his head back as he cackled away into the darkness. When he was done, he stared Hill down with his manic black eyes and yellow chipped teeth.
"There you go, playing all innocent... tell me, Hillel, why should I trust you?" He drawled, saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth. "I know you were fond of those two, much more than you currently are to me. You're itching to kill me, I know it very well."
He sighed, briefly withdrawing the weapon as he began to pace around the room. Well, calling it a room would be a bit of an exaggeration. The space they currently occupied was nothing more than a hallway within the Roman catacombs, blocked off on both sides by thick piles of rubbish and rusty metal spikes.
A natural defence of sorts against the plague beasts roaming the surface.
"Obviously, it wasn't supposed to be this way. You and I both know that very well. Meira shouldn't have died like that. A foolish thing she did, diving in front of a bullet to save her dying mother." His father brushed his bushy mustache before bringing his fingers to his nostrils and recoiling at the odor. "It should have been the three of us here, surviving as we've always done."
Hill shook with anger.
"They could have survived if you hadn't dragged them to the surface. You fed them to the plague beasts! You sealed their fate by doing that! I could have saved them, but you wanted them to d-"
His father pressed the gun against his chin.
"Hey now, watch your tongue, boy. You know very well that we can't house two decomposing bodies within this place. Use your brain! Disposing of them like that was the best decision I could have made!"
Hill jerked forward, his momentum causing the chair to scoot forward an inch. "You'd best kill me now before I make your ears bleed, bastard!"
The words hung in the air as it dominated the following silence. His father frowned slightly before realigning the barrel of the gun with Hill's dripping forehead.
"I'll miss you, son."
But before he could pull the trigger, a faint noise was heard from down the hallway, around a particularly long bend, sounding like footsteps through a puddle.
Hill's father immediately whipped the gun away from Hill's forehead. His eyes were focused now, and his jaw was clenched. He quickly moved to grab the singular candle that was illuminating their little residence within the catacombs. Turning to Hill, he scowled.
"You better not make a noise," He whispered tightly. "If you do, I'll make sure to riddle you with bullet holes."
With that, he moved towards the sound, which seemed like it was getting louder.
And closer.
Hill watched as his father moved slowly down the hallway before hooking left around the bend and disappearing from view. Due to the absence of light, Hill was shrouded in darkness. But he took the opportunity he was given, subtly moving his hands so he could undo the clumsy knot that was binding his arms behind his back.
But then... several gunshots rang out, echoing through the tunnel like a whip against an empty barrel. He jerked in his seat as his heart threatened to leap out of his chest.
He's killed a plague beast, hasn't he? He wondered to himself. Can't be a human down in these catacombs, can it?
Before his heart could beat another beat, chaos erupted. The sounds of muffled screaming filled the hallway, though Hill couldn't decipher whether it was man or beast. Three more gunshots rang out, followed by wet sloshing sounds and the sound of metal bending. And then, an uncomfortable tearing sound that seemed to resonate deep in his bones.
Hill began to panic as he squirmed, jerking around enough that he lost his balance and tumbled to his side. His head bounced off the rocky ground below, causing his ears to ring and his vision to fill with bright spots within the darkness. But he wasn't going to stop now.
Whatever had just happened was almost certainly bad news.
The footsteps resumed, sounding way too close to his proximity, and it had an awfully wet tone to it.
That's not my father, and there's no way that's a human either!
He yanked at the knot binding his arms, managing to wedge his thumb between the ropes as it loosened. Moving quickly, he freed his arms and switched to the ropes binding his torso to the chair.
But he was too late.
He hadn't noticed it, but the footsteps had stopped right in front of him. Despite being shrouded in darkness, Hill could see the dim light of a lure hanging from the head of an anglerfish-like humanoid. Its teeth absorbed most of the light, reflecting it like polished jewels and revealing the rest of its scaly figure and vein-riddled skin.
It was a plague beast.
Hill screamed as it lunged for him, but he was quickly silenced as his chest was pierced clean through. Sent flying back by the sudden blow, he bounced off the side wall and rolled to a stop as his throat and mouth began to fill up with blood.
His consciousness began to fade quickly, faster than he could even register the hollowing pain that was spreading through his body.
Within seconds, he was dead.
----
Or so he thought.
----
When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing on a platform fashioned from white marble tiles. Around the platform was a tall iron fence that encircled the circular platform like a colossal bird cage. Behind the bars of the cage, a series of empty seats fashioned from black marble could be seen. They circled round and round, with each row moving backwards and higher, almost as if this place was shaped like the inside of a hollow egg.
Above him, a starry sky could be seen, allowing the distant light of the stars to illuminate the darkness of the arena with an acceptable degree of success.
And descending from that sky, like an angel born from starlight, was a mysterious figure draped in linen garments that engulfed its entire body, revealing no skin.
It was stepping down on fading stairs made from what Hill assumed to be clouds. As it approached, it spread its arms wide, and a layered voice that sounded like a dissonant cry of a harmonica echoed through the empty arena.
"Welcome,
The latter words of the emissary's sentence were piercing in a literal fashion. The second those syllables were spoken, Hill was mentally and physically struck with a crushing pressure that drained him of thought and breath. He crumbled to his knees, clutching at his chest as he gasped for air. He was barely able to notice the fact that his chest was back to normal, devoid of any fatal injuries that should have been there.
The sensation fled as quickly as it arrived, yet it had felt like an eternity for Hill. He turned to look up at the emissary as tears involuntarily dropped from his eyes.
"Wha-"
"Welcome to the Soul Trial. You have fulfilled your time in the Earthling world, and your presence here is no accident. You have been chosen to face judgment. But rest easy, for if you prove the worth of your soul, your life will continue to blossom within another realm far removed from the tragedy that befell your realm."
A flash of light appeared at Hill's feet, and from that light, a white staff emerged. It was tall and whiter than the marble beneath his feet. As Hill grasped it, he could feel how sturdy it was, and he also noticed how easy it was to handle. It felt like a twig in his grasp despite its weight.
"Within your grasp is the
Hill quickly stood to his feet.
"Now hold on a second! Is this the afterlife?" He asked.
His voice was not heard. The emissary waited not a second, but immediately slammed his palms together, causing a thunderclap to pass through the arena.
The second the echoes faded, a strange dark shadow began emerging from the other side of the platform. As the darkness consumed a small radius of the marble tiles, a figure emerged from it.
Hill's eyes widened as he recognized the anglerfish-like head and the luminous lure.
For a split second, false pains flashed through his chest.
Before he could even scream, the emmissary's voice rang out one final time.
"You have five minutes. Give it your all,