Chapter 3: Death's Deal
This angel will drive me to my wit's end.
Ken was certain that he would not overthink things, but right then he changed his mind.
"What if I refuse?" Ken asked cautiously.
Azrael turned away and walked a few paces from Ken, then looked back at the boy. "That's not the question you should be asking. You should ask what gifts I will give you if you agree," Azrael said. He paused, tapping his thumb against his chin in contemplation. "But if you insist, let's see..."
Azrael raised his right hand toward Ken. At that moment, two bright white lights flickered into existence above each shoulder. Whilst a smaller flame-like light glowed beside his left leg.
A book bound in white and black leather appeared from the light hovering over his left shoulder. Azrael pulled it toward himself as if using telekinesis. Then all three lights instantly dissipated.
Silently he opened the book and turned the pages with rapid flicks of his fingers.
Ken watched, baffled. What were those lights?! The boy wondered.
Without stopping his reading or looking up, Azrael said, "The white lights were your Watchers, angels assigned to you. As for the red one, that was your Qarin, the one who drives you to mischief."
"What?" Ken gasped.
Did he read my mind? Wait, so he's been reading my thoughts this whole time!
"Yes, I can. And I have," Azrael replied indifferently, still rapidly turning pages.
Damn! Ken thought. He hurled silent curses at Azrael in his mind.
Azrael briefly smiled, unbothered.
Wait! The watcher angels! And the Qarin! I remember - the Watchers write everything I do in the Sijil, the manuscript of my life. The one on the right records good deeds, while the one on the left writes down sins. So the book he's holding must be my Sijil. He's reading my life!
And the Qarin - the little invisible Djinn companions that tempt us to evil. Those are real too?!
Ken looked left instinctively.
"Not a Djinn, a Shaitan," Azrael corrected, eyes still on the pages.
"Hein!"
"Yes, he tempts you," Azrael said. "But when it comes to evil, men are far more creative than those little ones."
So Granny was right about it all, Ken marveled.
Azrael then closed the book and telekinetically pushed it back toward Ken. The three lights flickered briefly again before the book dissipated along with them.
"Poor kid," Azrael said. "Your life really sucked. You'd deserve paradise were it not for your crime. But as it stands, I'm afraid you're hellbound, if I am to take your soul right now."
Is he talking about the crime that put me in this jail?!
"Wait!" Ken shrieked, grin vanishing for the first time. "But I had no choice, I had to do it!"
"It's not up to me."
Rage flared in Ken's eyes. But it was the only bad thing I did in my entire life. Only one. Sure! Yes! I may have made a mistake then, but still, I had no choice. What about the hell they made me live through? They enslaved and tortured me for cycles before I escaped. There is no justice in this. He continued pondering. What about…
"Kid!" Azrael interrupted, "Justice is just."
Ken's train of thought then stopped mid-rails, then changed course.
So then if everything Granny said is true, the real Hell is exactly what I think it is.
"Precisely more," The Angel said, locking eyes with Ken. "You thought you lived through Hell, but you've no idea."
Ken found himself transfixed by the angel's piercing gaze. Azrael's eyes looked like they became doorways as he then felt he was transmigrated to another place.
The suffering of hell is something better left unseen.
Ken opened his eyes to find himself amid scorching heat and flames licking at his skin.
He was in a narrow valley, the walls of which were engulfed in raging fires reaching heights no eye could see. The swirling winds howled as they swept across the burning ground. Billowing clouds of smoke choked the air, glowing angry red with towering flames.
The ground below was black as tar and hot as burning lava.
Everywhere he turned, he saw the wretched drifting through the haze screaming out in agony amidst the roar of unrelenting fire. The fire that consumed their flesh only to have it renewed moments later for another round of torment, in an endless cycle of anguish.
Oh! The screams, they are terrible.
They still echoed in his very soul.
Dark smoke choked the air, each breath a struggle.
He looked at some of the condemned who tried to run but found no refuge -nowhere to turn in this nightmare dominion of fire and ash. The Zabanyia; the grotesque angels who guarded that place stalked the darkness and flew overhead, cackling at the pain below and stoking the flames even higher. Their eyes flashed with glee as they inflicted fresh torment.
He turned back, looked through the crack of the valley, and saw rivers of molten metal and boiling puss stripping away skin and burning through bone.
Then looked right, to glimpse at the caverns that stretched into infinite darkness, each chamber more terrifying than the last. Everywhere was the stench of rotting flesh and the odor of disease and decay. There amidst the smoke and ash, the damned suffered unimaginable punishments for sins committed in their early lives.
"Please, make it stop!" He heard a man begging pitifully. Imploring for a relief that would never come since his pleas fell on deaf ears.
He looked away and saw what the tormented had for sustenance. Bitter lava fruits sprouted from a tree that grew at the center of Hell, and foul scalding water containing melted iron, blood, and pus was forced down their throats.
And with each bite or sip their inner burning deepened.
That was Hell, the horrid abode promised to the wicked. A destination of deserved retribution for those who sinned the gravest of sins.
For the inmates of hell, there was no hope of escape or relief from anguish. Only the ceaseless pain of being burned alive and healed again and again. No death. No rest. No sanity. Just a place of no respite or hope.
The seven doors of Hell forever barred. Any trapped there destined to burn for time without end, forevermore.
He wept, tears evaporating as they left his eyes. He knew he had only glimpsed what his mind could fathom - the true scope of Hell's horrors was beyond his grasp and imagination.
The suffering of Hell is better left unseen.
Ken found himself back again.
"Any confined there will beg for oblivion, for death - but their pleas will never be answered," Azrael said, taking out a pitch-black pocket watch from his waistcoat, "I will never come." He opened the watch nonchalantly.
Tears and snot streamed down Ken's face.
"Still, you can redeem yourself if you live a bit longer," Azrael added, closing the watch and slipping it back into his pocket.
Maybe living isn't so bad after all, Ken thought. If I live longer, I may find relief. A better life. I can be free again - eat what I want, do as I please, laugh for hours. I can sing, hear and tell stories, and own beautiful things.
If Granny's stories are true, I want to search for those places she spoke of, find those artifacts, and read the tales of those long passed with my own eyes. I want to go on adventures like her heroes, unravel mysteries, and explore the infinite flat ground - the Solo-Ground. Even know what lies within Bayad - the Sphere of Light. Father said I was a fool for such thoughts, and maybe I am, but I still yearn to do it all.
And most of all, I will not let them have it. They destroyed this life, sure, yes, but I will not grant them the win of destroying the next one.
If time is all I need, I'll gladly buy it. I don't want to go to that horrid place. What I truly want is...
"What's your offer?" Ken said, wiping snot with his right sleeve as his grin returned.
"Wise choice," Azrael smiled, approaching Ken. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a chain, tossing it to Ken.
Ken caught it and examined the nine pitch-black trinkets it held - a ring, a key, a talisman with a silver rune, a die, a skull, an eye, a hand, a cage, and a triangle - all ring-sized separated by thick silver chain links.
Azrael stopped an arm's length away. "Search and Collect. You will hunt down the nine immortals, extract then seal their souls in these objects."
"And how will I do that?" Ken retorted snarkily.
"A gift will assist you," Azrael said. "Though, I can't reveal their names nor locations. So you've got some figuring outs to do."
"What? How?!" Ken asked, baffled.
"You're a Hunter. It's your job. Figure it out," Azrael stated bluntly.
This angel will drive me to my wit's end, Ken sighed.
Considering the "gift" Azrael mentioned could help track the targets, Ken asked, "What's the gift?"
Azrael raised his hand for a handshake.
Ken glimpsed at the chain again, then quickly pocketed it and shook Azrael's warm hand, though his other arm still stemmed the neck wound.
His hand is warm!
Something burned the top of Ken's right arm - not intensely, but strangely gentle.
Azrael broke the handshake. "This is gonna hurt, kid."
At that moment, intense, searing pain shot through Ken's body like hot lava coursing through his veins. He collapsed to the ground, screams tearing from his throat in ragged bursts. His mind reeled, unable to comprehend the source as the agony overwhelmed his senses.
It felt as if his very blood was boiling, scalding him from the inside out. Like his skin would burst and leak out every pore. He thrashed violently on the hard ground, back arching, fingers digging furrows in the dirt. Eyes rolling wildly in their sockets.
The pain was beyond anything he could fathom - an all-consuming, raging fire that tore through muscle, organ, and bone. Nerves ignited with fresh anguish at each frantic beat of his heart, pumping magma through his convulsing body. The screams went on and on, echoing eerily until his raw throat could only manage choking rasps.
Even as his vision blurred and darkened, the agony continued pulsating through him. His body no longer felt like his own - it was a vessel contorted by unrelenting waves of indescribable torment. A torment that showed no signs of ceasing, until it reached its peak.
Gradually, the searing agony began to subside. The scalding heat declined, the coursing lava cooling to a slow simmer in his veins. His screaming softened to whimpers as the tight constriction on his lungs eased.
The raging fire consuming his nerves dulled to a faint smolder, no longer felt as if it would char him from the inside out. His racing heart settled into a steady rhythm, the boiling blood now flowing calmly through his battered body.
Ken's back relaxed against the ground, fingers uncurling, muscles releasing their rigid tension. The unrelenting waves of pain receded, becoming a residual throbbing rather than an all-consuming torment.
His frantic gasps evened into steady breaths as the sensitivity of his raw throat faded. Sight and sound filtered back in muted shades, no longer overwhelmed by agony. The stabbing pulses slowly faded to a subtle ache permeating his exhausted form.
As the last echoes of anguish rippled through him, Ken found himself floating in numb relief. The worst had passed. His body remained his own, weary but intact. Even all his wounds were healed. The fiery transformation complete. He could feel the changes coursing within, though for now, all he could do was lay there, spent. Waiting for strength to gradually seep back into his weakened limbs.
Ken slowly lifted his head, gasping as he looked up at Azrael. "Oi dere! Wada hell was dat?" He grumbled out in a ragged whisper.
"Your soul just reacted to my gift," Azrael replied casually, examining his nails. "It's normal for a soul to initially reject changes, but you should be thrilled - it accepted at the end, which also triggered manifestation of the secondary ability I intended you to have." He looked down at Ken and smirked.
What the hell is this guy spouting? Ken thought suspiciously. So what's he not saying! If my soul kept rejecting it, I'd have died! He just gambled with my life. Ken clenched his fists. This is gonna cost you extra!
Azrael threw his head back and laughed for the first time. "How could you die if I don't take your soul?" He chuckled, shaking his head.
"Fine, you stated what you want. Now my turn, what do I get out of this?!" Ken demanded, glaring up at the angel with his grin back on.
"I just gave you the greatest of gifts," Azrael spread his arms magnanimously.
"A gift, eh!" Ken mocked, slowly staggering to his feet. "I want more."
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
sterlingraita
sterlingraita Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone