As they approached the castle of fire skulls, they could see enormous troll with sharp teeth, reaching heights of 30 to 40 feet. Something to highlight was their horns as if they were dragons, blowing up souls. But those were special…. They were angelic souls that had been sent by demon reapers.
The Demon reapers is an overly grotesque being who takes after a dragon and a phoenix in power, but at his birth, he looks overly beautiful like a female. They woe heavenly creature like celestials, angels, chosen ones and other rebellious demons. In the first place, they were not meant to exist. They would leave a mark on the life of these being who would later go into a samsara state after trying to reincarnate into heaven, sending them into hell to torture them for all eternity.
In that state, he could sense the danger that no one could inflict in his imperishable soul. The fire ripping through the cracks of his hand, making his hellhound presence known to all creatures. His hand erupted in the right measures, reaching the temperature of 2000 hellish grades of damage. He could hear how hell was feeling something for the first time. The unknowable sky was screaming in pain.
Mother: just remember that Demon Reapers are our enemies, which means that no one can actually see the boundaries of what's weak and what's strong. Let it be known to you. The heaven and the earth are yours to take. The mountains and the soul shine for you in the four season. And also the life, it is yours to own. In that aspect of destiny, you are the muse of logic, taking over everything and nothing. Just… just… just remember that my mother was killed by a demon reaper… and that she will never be able to reincarnate.
The memory of the voluptuously beautiful figure of his blessed mother vanished into thin air or perhaps it was just a reminder of his early journey. He needed to establish a new order to continue shining in the dark. No one could really see how much of a human being he had ceased being when he saw his mother being killed by someone else. It broke his heart. It crushed his will. Nothing could comfort. Even so, it led him to find the pain of loving, knowing that he had failed his mother… the only one he had.
—Hell is the inability to love. As for his heart, you could see an abyss of cracking sound and infinite rage. Despite that, he was a loving husband to his wives and concubines, changing their nature and plans. It was like he was more than the void in his heart. They would feel his honest kindness in every touch of blue warm. They would be moved to tear every time he would look at them in their eyes. THIS… this made them CRAZY for him. It was a carousel for them. It was sword crushing their heart instead of an arrow tasting the blood of love.
Veronika thrust her swords in a quick way, unleashing her magic of eternal light on the Z universal guards. At that moment, they were utterly astonished to death as if a ghost of the first circle had appeared… AHH! AHH! NO #%$# eternal light! NOOO! They got utterly broken, disappearing in an instant. It was like the fight was for naught. Knowing this, they headed into the castle. Actually, Veronika was dead worried about him, trembling in shivers as if she had never seen him in the first place. She wondered what produced that reaction… incredible pain emerged in her hear, making her bit her juicy lips.
They got into the castle, but before entering castle, they could see it nestled in the fog-enshrouded luminous crags of a forsaken Himalayan abyss of fate, where jagged peaks claw at storm-rent skies, the Skull Citadel looms as a blasphemous basilica of bone with angelic forms, a syncretic spire where Buddhist mandalas entwine with Catholic cathedrals in eternal danse macabre. In that way, forged from obsidian quarried in charnel pits and mortared with the ashes of forgotten ascetics, its walls ascend in fractal tiers of polished crania—thousands stacked like votive offerings, their hollow gazes etched with sutras in Sanskrit and Latin along with an unknown language, murmuring of samsara's wheel and Christ's thorny crown as if they were the same. At the apex of it, a stupa-spire spirals heavenward, thirteen golden rings of gilded ivory skulls encircling a colossal dome of platinum where stained-glass reliquaries depict Avalokiteshvara weeping blood from nailed palms, while onion domes bulge with mosaics of lotus-wreathed rosaries of disdain and hope, their surfaces ablaze with flickering butter lamps and beeswax tapers in a valley picture. Looking more closely, gargoyles of fused femurs leer from Gothic buttresses, their maws exhaling incense laced with myrrh, guarding arched portals framed by vertebrae garlands that chime like macabre wind bells.
As they got in, Within the castle, labyrinthine cloisters wind through ossuary vaults, where pilgrims prostrate before altars of tibiae strung as malas, contemplating impermanence amid the Eucharist's shadowed sacrament. No iron gates bar entry; only a moat of swirling mist, veiling steps carved from scapulae, invites the seeker to meditate on mortality's grin—here, enlightenment dawns in the skull's silent sermon, salvation's chalice brimming with the dust of the divine.
—HAHAH! You have found my place. Prepare to suffer once more… as he said this, his voice went suddenly weak beyond compare. Conversely, he could feel conscious, but the rest of his body has been blasted away by the crushing force of the daemonic rage. Nonwithstanding, he still thought that he had a chance. But all his hope went to waste. He saw a logos mark of the omega, slowly crushing him in the most possible brutal way.
—NO! HUH… NO… I cannot die this way. I am a ZZ nebula existence. How could you ever kill me?