12 Arc 2: Cocytus: Part 1

Cocytus.

That is what I named Level Five. I had dreams about who I used to be, and in them I remember a book about hell. The details where really blurry, but I remember something about the bottom of hell being frozen over and the name.

Cocytus.

I'm seventeen years old, and I'm now eight and a half feet tall. Damn, that's cool!

Get it? It's funny because Level Five is cold. Very cold.

I don't have much to say about Cocytus. I could go on and on about how could it was, but that wouldn't do it justice. Liquid spilled within seconds upon exposure to the open air froze solid. Food was frozen solid and blizzards happened 99% of the time.

Then there were the wolves. I didn't always win when I fought these wolves. Sometimes I needed to get lucky. They were smart, fast, strong, and traveled in large packs. I didn't stand a chance against them if there were too may wolves and I would make a run for it.

I wish I had a pack. But that wasn't even a remote possibility. Level Five was scarcely inhabited, and the residents were dangerous. I would know, I am one.

Death was everywhere. Everyday people who couldn't adapt were killed off by the harsh conditions or the wolves. Companionship was non-existant. The prisoners here truly believed the only way to survive in Impel Down was by sacrificing others. It reminded me of Kuzric. Maybe Levels Three and Four had spoiled me with people I could talk to, like Kuzric and Fredigar.

So sue me. I like talking to people. The people in the Center Tower of Level Five were pretty much just scum meant to die. And if I'm calling someone scum, that means something.

Outside of the large structure in the center of Level Five where a majority of the cells are, there are miles and miles and miles of artificial biomes. Forests and tundras, filled with wolves and other monsters. It took time, but eventually I explored most of it.

It took me some searching, but I found someone. Deep in the depths of Level Five, atop an artificial mountain, within a cave, I found someone I could talk to. Kinda.

His name was Gurry, but he insisted on being called Gurry-Rōshi. He was a Greenland Shark fishman, and the first fishman I had ever talked to. He wore barely any clothes, just a torn up prisoner uniforms as a loincloth. He barely ate anything either.

When I first found him, the first thing he did was throw me out. The next time he threw me further. The third time, that's when he stopped. He introduced himself as a sage, banished from Fishman Island long ago for his heresy. He claimed to be eight hundred and a half years old. He looked it too. He was ten feet tall and very wide, but he was severely hunched over and half of his face sagged. Probably from a stroke he had in the past. He also had semi-scaly skin and a wide gaping mouth filled with odd looking teeth, but a full ragged head of white hair and what he called a 'sage's' mustache.

I tried to talk to him about small talk, but he'd always loop it around to his home country and prophecies. He went on about choices and pre-determination. He said he was the Sage of the Frozen Hell. Most importantly, he wouldn't shut up!

Just talk and talk and talk. Sure, he was old and wise. I get it. But he just needed to take a break for once damn it! Sometimes he would say things I didn't want to hear. Like his opinion on humans. Especially humans in power.

"You can't trust them! Wicked half-baked beings without sense or common decency! They will do so much to cause you pain. It is simply the way that these twisted beings work. They give you the illusion of a choice, thinking that you may one day win your freedom, or that they may be generous enough to grant you a speck of power in exchange for your time serving them, all so that they can crush your spirit in the end by revealing that they never planned to let you go at all, and that you spent your last moments willingly ended up losing your life, not in the literal sense, but in the figurative sense, and also in the literal sense!"

"You know that I'm human right Gurry-Rōshi?"

"Nonsense! Humans are short and weak. You are large and strong. You are more than human obviously. Probably a giant or giant-kin. Nothing wrong with giants. They are a honorable and noble people. Unlike humans. That being said, it's not like there aren't bad giants, because there are. Like Hagged Dhore!"

One day, my frustration came to a head. I sighed loudly in the middle of him repeating a poem he had told me for the millionth time about how he hated transvestites and mole people.

"You know what Gurry-Rōshi? We should go for a walk." I told him. I didn't believe for an instant that he would leave his cave. Especially not with me. He considered me a 'warrior' that required instruction from a sage like him and nothing else.

He hummed for a few moments. Wait, is he actually considering going for a walk? I've never even seen him even move before!

Slowly, like a rock slide in slow motion, he gets to his feet. He's even taller standing up, but not by much. His legs are actually proportionate to a normal person. It's kinda funny looking to be honest, but I don't laugh.

"Yes. It's time for the sage to travel! The reckoning is on hand!"

With his short pace, he made his way out of his cave and began walking torwards the forest. Some of the wolfs looked like they wanted to stop him. The crazy red eyes they had became more intense and they waved their tounges in the air.

"Fishman Karate. Abyss Style. Five Hundred Palms of the Sage."

He moved his hands, and it appeared as if crushing waves of air crushed the wolves where they stood. Pressure from above them smashed them into the ground.

He just grunted and continued walking. I followed after him after making sure the wolves wouldn't get up. I gave them a kick just to make sure. The Army Wolves were tough. Stupid tough. They could definitely take one of my kicks. The full grown ones could anyways. They're three times my size. Their puppies on the other hand were the size of a regular human and some stronger prisoners could probably handle them easily.

Just as we got into the woods and were about to cross a snowy clearing, Gurry stopped. His smashed in nose began to sniff the air. He took a deep breath and then sighed. "There's destiny in the air. It smells like a circus."

We walked past the tree line. A sage's words must always ring true, because sure enough there was a circus. Or something funny like a circus at least. Two male prisoners were running around on stilts while a litter of Army Wolf puppies were chasing them around.

One had broken glasses and hair tied up to look like a number '3'. The other guy looked like a clown. He had bright blue hair tied up in a ponytail, a red clown nose, and a few face tattoos.

"So, what are you going to choose young warrior?" Gurry asked me curiously.

I sighed. I knew what I should probably do. I cracked my knuckles and walked forward.