The still air trembled then thickened.
Wind became liquid and the scent of grass dissolved into something flavorless like plain boiled eggs. The field drowned in silence.
Ryker tried to breathe. Bubbles escaped his mouth, and the world pulled him down through soil and light. Countless threads of light curved around him, weaving a tunnel without beginning or end. Then it was gone. He fell forward, coughing, sand grating against his palms. "Shit—!" Purple light flickered behind him, fading into the horizon's cold breath.
A vast and infinite desert appeared before him, dunes rolling under an aurora sky. He took a breath and froze. Cold, heavy metal pressed against his neck, pushing his shoulders down, linking him to the line of so many slaves. His fingers brushed the rough iron collar. "Where… am I?" he murmured.
To his right, at a distance, a lake shimmered faintly under the aurora's sky.
A scream tore through the air. "Aaahhh!" Ryker's head immediately turned, eyes widening just a little, not in shock and fear but just the reflex of someone trying to make sense of noise in a quiet place.
His eyes fell on a vast table carved with symbols, half-buried in the dunes. Behind it a giant fat man set his large round ass on the big chair, wearing nothing but just a dhoti. An old man knelt before him. His voice cracked as he begged, "Please… oh Lord… have mercy…"
Beside him stood aproximately 6 feet tall man. A grey double-breasted coat, black shirt and trousers, a cap pulled low over shadowed eyes and smoke coiled from the cigar between his lips. He held a black sword in his right hand, moving it before the plea could end. Steel flashed with a single arc of motion, stopping the old man's sympathetic cry. His head left his body, flooding the desert with red blood, then his body burst softly into drifting red light that vanished with the wind.
Ryker's breath caught and pupils tightened.
"Am I… hallucinating too much?" he muttered. "My brain is fucked up"
The fat man leaned forward and laughed out loud. "HAHAHGRAHA... these weaklings are so deadass," he said, shuffling papers on his desk. "Their souls are worthless." Then, shouted loud. "Next!"
And the line moved. The sound rippled through the captives, and Ryker felt his own body step forwarded automatically.
"I can't control my body…" He swallowed, the cold iron pressing tighter against his throat.
The line moved forward.
Another figure stepped up, a young man, shaking, his eyes wide. The fat man leaned down, looked him over, then waved a hand.
"Go" The boy barely breathed before a violet portal bloomed under his feet. He vanished with no sound and trace.
The next came. Then another.
The line continued. Some faced the black sword and some disappeared.
And then, Ryker stepped forward.
The chain at his neck stilled. He stood before the vast table in steady posture and gaze level. The fat man and the swordsman both turned toward him, faint surprise flickering in their eyes.
The fat man leaned in, the wood creaking beneath his weight. Papers rustled as a thick finger dragged across the sheet. "You're… Ash Elliott." Ryker said nothing. The man squinted. "No fear in your eyes… not even now. You're not even shaking… Hah! Boy you're hanging between life and death and you don't even twitch?"
Ryker's lips curved faintly. A small, shaky chuckle slipped free.
He looked first at the swordsman, then at the fatass man behind the table. "I realised this isn't a hallucination… too early," he said softly. Neither of them replied. The air hung still.
Ryker lowered his gaze. "I ain't a shit bigot. I love death as I love life. They're the same road, just different turns. In the end, a body is just a body. The silence that follows a man's last breath is no different from that of a shit butchered hippos." He smiled faintly, carrying life time tiredness. "I don't fear the nature of death as I've already lived under the law of life."
The swordsman's eyes flickered. He looked down at the sand, a faint smile appeared at corner of his mouth.
Then, the fat giant ass man laughed again.
"HAHAGRAH! Got an interesting soul. Haven't seen one like you in ages, boy"
Ryker said nothing. The giant flipped through another page. "You got the eternal world," he murmured. "Rare… very rare."
The giant's laughter faded into a low hum. Then, without a word, he raised one hand.
Light gathered on it. Soft, violet motes rose from his palm and drifting, spinning, folding into a shape. In their center, a Kangan of gold took form. The air around it trembled, heavy with an unseen force.
Ryker's gaze fixed on it. "There are powers in this universe I haven't experience," he thought. "And they're real." The giant grunted, eyes narrowing as if studying the glow. "Hmm... It's looking good, I'm proud of myself." The light pulsed and in the blink of an eye, the golden kangan vanished from his hand and reappeared around Ryker's right wrist.
The metal was cold. It pulsed a heartbeat. Ryker lifted his hand, turning it slightly in the dim moonlight, tracing the fine carvings with cautious fingers. "He's too powerful…"
CLICK!
Before the thought had even faded, the kangan unlocked, slipping off his wrist, hit the sand without a sound and on Ryker's wrist a faint mark remained, like ink.
The giant leaned forward, the table creaking under his weight. "Hmm. It suits you." His eyes glinted with approval.
Then he sat back, exhaling through his nose like a satisfied merchant closing a deal.
"Very well," he said. "You can go now, all shits has passed, finally its free time now." The chain at Ryker's neck loosened.
Ryker's gaze lingered on the fading light of the kangan mark. The faint warmth against his skin pulsed once, then stilled.
"What'll happen now?" he thought. "Will I be sent to another world? Or thrown into some illusionist's meaningless trick of heaven and hell? I really fucking don't know."
The fat man grunted, turning back to his papers. Pages fluttered under his thick fingers. He scanned the columns, eyes narrowing then widening. "What—" His voice cracked, surprise sharpening into alarm.
Ryker had already taken a step forward. The air around him twisted, the sand trembling underfoot, low hum filled the space as light gathered beneath him, spiraling upward into a forming portal. "Wait!" the fat man roared, his chair scraping violently. "You're not in the list!"
The swordsman moved instantly, the cigar dropping from his mouth, embers scattering. His hand flashed—blade half-drawn, cutting through the air with practiced precision—
But too late. The light already swallowed Ryker whole. The swordsman lowered his blade, jaw tightening. The giant's papers rustled again, a single word escaped swordsman's lips in disbelief.
"Impossible."