Lenny's soul floated in the endless expanse of the void, a place beyond existence itself. It was neither cold nor hot; it was simply *nothingness*. Yet, he was painfully awake, aware of every second that stretched into eternity. His body was gone—he had destroyed it. His once mighty soul, now a pale shadow of what it used to be, drifted aimlessly, slowly eroding away like sand in the wind.
The emptiness swallowed him whole, and he could feel it gnawing at him, piece by piece, reducing his soul to fragments. The achievements, the battles, the victories, all of it, gone. He had sacrificed everything to stop Lucifer. The power of the Satan system, which had been his weapon, was lost to him. In his defiance, he had denied the Morningstar the chance to consume his soul, ensuring that Lucifer would never regain his full strength. But the cost had been heavy. Now, Lenny was alone. Empty. He was, in all senses, *dead*.