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The world was at its end, sliding down a slippery slope of carnage and war. Jaycee, a washed-up assassin that got locked up in prison, escaped with the help of a mercenary group named Inanis. Alec, the group’s handsome yet mysterious leader, offered Jaycee his freedom in exchange for one thing: to kill the commander of the World Below. What Jaycee didn’t know, is that he would get caught up between two conflicting sides in a plot to revive the Dark Prince of legend. It’s said that the intention of whoever revives him will decide the fate of the world. It’s a battle to the finish line. Will Jaycee and Alec make it to the end, or will it be too late?
His skin became drenched in his own blood. The cool cement floor held the weight of his listless body, unable to hold himself up of his own accord anymore. The ache in his ankles turned into an unbearable throbbing as the seconds passed. Time moved slowly, as if forever stuck in a loophole.
For a moment, he thought he was in hell, living out divine punishment for all the wrongs he had committed in life. The thought that he was at the end of the road seemed less daunting compared to the reality laid out before him.
It was too cold for hell.
Above him, a black shadow hovered and covered his body in its never-ending darkness. It swallowed him up, ready to eat him alive, flesh nothing but an appetizer. A vision of his esophagus being ripped out and devoured flashed before his eyes, a memory or the coming reality, he wasn't sure. But no pain occurred. Instead, his dark, soulless orbs focused on the crimson liquid dripping onto the ground below and pooling near his feet.
A throaty laugh sounded from behind him.
He didn't dare to look back, not that he could.
The shadow wrapped its fingers around his throat and squeezed. Unable to fight, he struggled to breathe as it sucked the life out of him.
He knew he deserved what was coming. In his brief existence, he had been anything but a saint. He killed many, hands stained with the blood of the innocent as much as the guilty.
He was a shell of a person, awaiting his departure.
Too bad he would never get it.
The choking turned into an uncomfortable embrace, with words being whispered into his ear, sending a shiver down to the depths of his core. He stood at hell's door, forced into a deal with the devil.
By the time the sounds processed in his mind, he had already forgotten them, forgotten everything.
He woke up chagrined, surrounded by corpses and covered in blood.
His body was still there, but he was gone.
