The Life After Death

  Chapter 18: Questions

  My breath hitched as I locked eyes with the figure before me. My grip on my dagger tightened instinctively, my body shifting into a defensive stance. My heart pounded in my chest, every muscle coiled and ready to strike.

  "Who are you?" I demanded, my voice sharper than I expected. "How do you know my name? What do you want?"

  The figure did not respond. Instead, it stepped forward, slow and deliberate, closing the distance between us. Each step sent a ripple through my senses, a deep primal warning screaming at me to run. Then—I felt it.

  A wave of raw, suffocating terror washed over me. My dagger slipped from my grasp, clattering uselessly against the cavern floor. My knees buckled, and before I realized it, I was kneeling, my body trembling against the crushing weight pressing down on me.

  My eyes widened in sheer horror as I felt the figure’s manaheart—as if it was forcing me to sense it—an abyss of black, deeper and more terrifying than anything I had ever encountered. It wasn’t just powerful; it was overwhelming, drowning me in a sea of bloodlust so potent that my instincts abandoned me completely.

  How... its manaheart is at the Abyss stage!

  My mind reeled. I cannot move... and... this... bloodlust... Who—what—is this thing?

  Despair clawed at my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I’m going to die. There is no way I’m getting out of this.

  My head hung low, my gaze locked onto the cavern floor as my entire body trembled. My hands shaking uncontrollably at my sides. The sheer weight of the presence before me crushed down like an iron shackle, dragging me deeper into despair.

  The figure loomed closer, and I swore its form grew larger with every step. The sheer intensity of its presence pushed me further into the ground, crushing my will beneath its weight. My vision slightly blurred, my body refusing to move.

  Then, just as the figure stood over me, mere inches away, its voice—calm and commanding—cut through the air.

  "Look up, boy."

  Against every instinct telling me not to, I forced my head upward, my body straining against the invisible force holding me down. My breath hitched once more, but this time, the towering, monstrous presence was gone.

  In its place stood an old man, smiling down at me.

  I blinked, my mind struggling to reconcile the overwhelming bloodlust I had felt moments ago with the seemingly harmless figure before me. My expression twisted into something caught between disbelief and exasperation.

  Seriously? This is what I was afraid of?

  The old man appeared fragile, leaning on a gnarled wooden stick, his movements slow and deliberate, as though time had long worn him down. His long, wispy white hair was loosely tied back, with unruly strands falling freely over his weathered face. His crimson-red eyes twinkled with an undeniable wisdom, but there was something unsettling that I couldn't shake off.

  His thick, tattered robe was frayed at the edges, dark cloth embroidered with golden-red sigils tracing along its hem. His bony hands, though aged, held an unshakable steadiness, as though power still coursed beneath his worn skin.

  The simple wooden staff in his grasp seemed ordinary at first, but I could feel it—a strange sensation, like the air around it was subtly shifting, as if the staff was drinking in its surroundings.

  Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the oppressive bloodlust vanished. My body still refused to move. My fingers twitched toward my fallen dagger, my instincts screaming that this was a trick. No one—nothing—could shift their presence that fast.

  The old man let out a hearty chuckle. "Ah, what a delight! I haven’t had company in quite some time."

  I remained frozen, unsure whether to stay on the ground or force myself to stand. The old man’s smile deepened as he leaned slightly on his staff.

  "You probably have a lot of questions, don’t you?" The old man sighed, shaking his head as if amused. "Let’s not have this conversation with you half-conscious on the floor. Come, let’s patch you up, get you some food, and then—then, my boy, I will answer everything."

  I hesitated but eventually pushed myself to my feet, following behind him. Every step I took was slow, cautious, my mind still reeling from what I had just experienced. My hand hovered near my waist where my dagger had been, a lingering instinct of self-preservation keeping me wary.

  There was something undeniably strange about the old man, something beyond the unsettling pressure he had just emitted. As I walked, the weight of his presence lingered in the air, like an unseen force pressing at the edges of my awareness. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye.

  The cavern around us stretched in eerie silence, the towering walls glowing faintly from bioluminescent plants clinging to the rock like veins of light. Their soft hues of deep blue and violet pulsed gently, casting fleeting shadows as we moved.

  Strange, gnarled trees sprouted from pockets in the cavern floor, their roots digging deep into the rock, seemingly feeding off the very air itself. A thin stream wove through the uneven terrain, its water reflecting the luminescent glow from above like liquid silver.

  Walking alongside this stream, I couldn't help but take in my surroundings with a mixture of awe and unease, each step drawing us closer to what appeared to be a makeshift home nestled against the cavern wall.

  A crude shelter, formed from what looked like woven branches and large stones, stood in the distance, blending seamlessly with the eerie landscape. It was clear this was the old man's dwelling—isolated, yet somehow… lived in.

  We finally approached a fire pit—positioned in front of the old man's home—its stones carefully arranged but unlit, a faint scent of charred wood lingering in the air.

  The old man motioned toward a small pile of enormous orange and purple berries—each one large enough to fill both of my small hands—resting on a flat rock beside the pit.

  "There. Eat that," he said, his voice light with amusement. "It will replenish your mana, and you'll feel better."

  I grimaced, my nose scrunching as I eyed the berries suspiciously. "How do I know these won't kill me?" Casting a wary glance at the old man.

  He let out a hearty chuckle. "That’s your choice, boy," he said with an amused glint in his eye.

  Just as I was about to protest, my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl. The old man chuckled again, shaking his head. "Though it doesn't sound like you have a choice."

  Reluctantly, I grabbed one of the massive berries, its surface cool and slightly firm in my hands. With a resigned sigh, I took a huge bite.

  The texture was oddly fleshy, and the moment the taste hit my tongue, I nearly gagged. Swallowing it down, I quickly snatched another and gulped it just as fast, desperate to get it over with.

  Then, a sudden choke caught my throat, and I coughed violently, shaking my head. "Ugh—these are disgusting!"

  The old man erupted into laughter. "Ah! I forgot to mention that part!"

  I wiped my mouth, still reeling from the lingering bitterness, and narrowed my eyes at him. "Why are you being so nice to me? We’ve never met before, so why are you feeding me?"

  The old man simply smiled, ignoring my question entirely. Instead, he tilted his head slightly and asked, "How are you feeling?"

  I frowned, about to retort when a sudden realization hit me. My body no longer ached. The lingering fatigue from my fall, the strain on my manaheart, the dull pain throbbing through my limbs—all of it was gone.

  I clenched my fists, testing my strength, and found myself utterly renewed, as if every wound and exhaustion had been wiped clean.

  Shock coursed through me, my breath catching in my throat. "How... how is this possible?"

  The old man chuckled. "So many questions." He then gestured toward the massive flowers I had fallen onto earlier. "Those berries grow from these trees, right here." His voice carried an air of knowing amusement as he pointed toward the bioluminescent flora.

  The petals of the massive flowers shimmered in a gradient of deep orange and vibrant purple, their surfaces appearing almost liquid in the glow of the cavern. The vines intertwined through the cavern’s stone, pulsating as their soft glow illuminated the ancient rock formations around them.

  "This entire place is filled with mana," the old man continued, his voice carrying an almost reverent tone. "Everything here feeds off it, and grows because of it."

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  A realization struck me. I had felt it all along—the weight in the air, the way my skin tingled slightly as I moved.

  "So that’s why..." my mind clicking the pieces together. "That’s why the air felt so thick, so dense. It wasn’t just the atmosphere—I was feeling the mana itself."

  The old man gave a slow nod, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Exactly, boy. You’re more perceptive than you let on."

  I huffed, crossing my arms. "Took you long enough to figure that out," smirking despite myself.

  The old man let out a deep laugh. "And yet, here you are, still standing. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet."

  I let out a breath, straightening slightly. "You said you'd answer my questions."

  The old man’s ever-present smile dimmed into something more serious. He held my gaze for a long moment before nodding. "Yes."

  With slow, deliberate movements, he turned to the fire pit and knelt beside it. Pulling out a small pouch from within his robe, he retrieved a flint and steel. With practiced ease, he struck them together, sending tiny sparks into the dry wood.

  After a few more strikes with the flint, nothing happened. Not a spark, not even a whisper of smoke. I watched him try again… and again… and again. My eye twitched. My patience thinned. A sigh escaped me before I could stop it.

  "I'll do it," twisting my fingers as a small surge of mana gathered in my palm. A spark of fire magic leapt from my fingertips, igniting the dry wood in an instant. Flames roared to life far faster than his struggling attempts.

  The old man paused, blinked once—and then chuckled. "Aren’t you a show?off."

  I puffed my cheeks, crossing my arms. "You looked like you were going to take forever. I don’t have that kind of time."

  He let out another amused chuckle, shaking his head. "Why so serious, boy? You don’t know it yet, but we have all the time we need."

  The old man settled himself down across from me, resting his hands on his knees as the fire crackled between us.

  His eyes, reflecting the flickering flames, locked onto mine with an unsettling calmness.

  "Ask, boy."

  My fingers curled slightly as I exhaled, trying to shake off the lingering unease. "Alright, let's start simple. What is your name? Who are you?"

  The old man let out a low chuckle, his lips curling into an amused smile.

  "Ah, you're quite the curious one, aren't you?" He exhaled slowly, as if weighing his words carefully.

  "My name is... Asmodean." His voice carried a weight, an ancient authority that made the name feel heavier than it should. "Think of me as someone who has been here for a long time," he added, though something in his gaze told me there was far more to that statement than he was letting on.

  I raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "Why must you be cryptic? Can't you just give me a straight answer?"

  Asmodean let out a hearty laugh. "You should relax more, boy. Life isn’t always about having answers handed to you."

  I repeated the name in my head. Weird name.

  But instead of dwelling on it, I pressed on. "Alright, then how could you communicate with me?"

  Asmodean’s smile thinned slightly. "I suppose ever since you set foot in this land, I felt a connection to you. Not that I’m trying to show off myself," he chuckled lightly, the corner of his mouth lifting as if he found amusement in his own understatement.

  "But the mana flowing in this place is my mana. That is how I was able to sense you. But you were far, so I... unfortunately... could only reach out to you through my own memories. However, that's as deep as we will go for now. "

  A chill ran through me. My face stiffened, my expression betraying the shock coursing through me. All the mana in this place... was he’s alone?

  The sheer magnitude of such a claim made my breath hitch. My fingers twitched slightly as if grasping at something unseen. The weight of that realization made my skin crawl.

  "You talk about this land..." trying to piece things together before shaking my head. "Well then, what is this place? Where exactly am I?"

  Asmodean exhaled, his expression unreadable. "That is a very long story," his voice carrying a weight that hinted at a burden.

  "But let’s call this a sanctuary—a land that was dry and forgotten. However, since I came here, and more so since I found you, this sanctuary has been changing drastically."

  His lips curled into a knowing smile. "I guess ever since you arrived, the excitement leaked more of my mana out," he added with a soft chuckle.

  I narrowed my eyes, my curiosity flaring up. "What do you mean you found me?" Folding my arms, still wary of his cryptic nature.

  Asmodean’s expression remained calm as he answered. "Everything that touches my mana, I can sense. That is how I found you. That is how I knew you were close to me. But because you were beyond the edge of my reach, all I could do was send echoes of myself—fragments of my memories."

  My breath caught in my throat. A cold sensation crawled down my spine as a realization struck me like a hammer. My face paled, and I found myself gripping my arms tightly, shifting slightly on the cold, uneven stone I had been sitting on.

  "Your memories…" I whispered shakily. "What do you mean, your memories? Are you telling me all those nightmares I had were things you experienced?"

  Before he could answer, the atmosphere shifted violently. That same suffocating terror returned, a monstrous weight pressing down on me.

  My body locked up, my knees threatening to buckle under the sheer force of bloodlust leaking from Asmodean. It was as if the very air around me had turned to stone, forcing me down.

  Then again, just as suddenly as it appeared, it vanished.

  Asmodean’s lips curled into a small smile, as if nothing had happened. "Yes, but now is not the time for that," his tone light yet firm, leaving no room for further inquiry.

  He stood up with a slow, deliberate motion and turned away, the firelight casting long shadows over his tattered robe. "Try and get some rest," he added as he walked toward the cavern’s edge.

  I took a shaky breath, still recovering from the weight of what had just happened. But I couldn’t let him walk away just yet.

  "Old man, wait—last question," I called out, my voice steadier than I felt. "How do I get out of here?"

  Asmodean let out a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "There’s only one way out of here... and only one of us can get out. We’ll see who that one is,” he said with a sly wink, as if the idea genuinely amused him.

  With that, he continued toward the stream.

  I clenched my jaw, frustration bubbling up inside me. "What the hell does that mean?" I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. "One way out? And only one of us? Why can't you just give me a straight answer for once?"

  Asmodean simply chuckled, dipping his hand into the cool stream. "Rest, boy," he said without turning back. "All answers come in time."

  I watched him in silence, my mind racing as I sat there, going over everything he had just said. His memories and what I saw, his immense mana reserves, the fact that I couldn’t get out of here, and that only one of us could leave.

  I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair.

  "Why bring me here if only one of us can get out? At least give me straight answers, you old man," I muttered under my breath, irritation lacing my voice.

  Then, like a jolt through my mind, Asmodean’s voice rang in my head. I can hear you, boy.

  I jerked upright, my eyes wide as I shouted from the fire, "How are you doing that?!"

  No response. The old man simply continued his motions by the stream, as if I hadn't just yelled.

  I scowled, but exhaustion pulled at me. With a tired sigh, I lay down near the fire, staring at the cavern ceiling.

  It stretched high above, jagged and uneven, like the gaping maw of some ancient beast.

  Sharp stalactites hung precariously, their dark silhouettes barely illuminated by the faint glow of the bioluminescent plants that clung to the rocky walls.

  There was no trace of sunlight, no warmth from the outside world—just an oppressive, endless darkness, broken only by the eerie pulsating lights of the cavern itself. The sheer scale of it made me feel small, as if I had been swallowed by something vast and unknowable.

  My thoughts lingered on our conversation, twisting through every cryptic word he had spoken.

  What will later hold for me with this strange old man? My eyes grew heavy, and before I could chase another thought, sleep took me.

  I must have been more exhausted than I realized because I slept straight through what must have been the entire night.

  The next thing I knew, the faint rustling of leaves and the sound of movement stirred me awake. Groggily, I blinked, shifting on the cold, uneven stone beneath me. A dull ache spread through my body, and I groaned, stretching out my stiff limbs.

  Damn, I feel like I fought a bear in my sleep. My back screamed in protest, and I grimaced.

  Good morning, boy, Asmodean's voice echoed in my head, startling me. Wash up in the stream. We will have breakfast soon.

  I jolted upright, my face twisting in disbelief. "Would you stop doing that?!" I grumbled under my breath, running a hand down my face. Thanks for startling me awake old man.

  A chuckle resonated through my mind. You're welcome, Asmodean quipped, clearly enjoying himself.

  Muttering curses, I pushed myself up and trudged toward the stream. The cool water reflected my face, and for the first time in a long while, I paused. My reflection stared back at me, a face I hadn't properly looked at in nearly a week since I fell from the cliff.

  I exhaled softly, my fingers grazing the water’s surface. Has it really been that long since I left them? Are they safe?

  A pang of guilt twisted in my gut as I thought of Elara. Did she make it to the healers? Is Helena okay? I sighed, shaking the thoughts away before they could weigh me down further.

  Just then, Asmodean called out, "Come, boy. Breakfast is ready."

  I turned back toward him, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. I’m starving."

  As I approached, I stopped dead in my tracks, my face dropping in disappointment. "Oh, come on. These again?" I groaned, staring at the enormous berries in front of me.

  Asmodean chuckled. "Afraid so. You’ll get used to it."

  I sighed in defeat, plopping down by the fire. "Doubt it." Still, I grabbed one of the massive berries and took a bite, trying to ignore the pulpy, bitter taste.

  Asmodean watched me for a moment before leaning back slightly. "Now then, while you eat, ask your questions, boy."

  I looked at him, narrowing my eyes. "But no cryptic nonsense this time. If you keep dodging my questions, I won't bother asking anymore."

  Asmodean smirked, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement. "That depends on the questions."

  I clenched my fists, my mind still reeling from our conversation the night before. "You said only one of us can leave," I said, my voice firm.

  "I have a family I left behind. I need to make sure they are okay. And I'll do everything and anything I have to, to make it back to them."

  The humor in Asmodean's expression faded, his crimson eyes studying me carefully. For the first time since meeting him, he looked almost solemn.

  "I always had a feeling you would be someone who cares for family and loved ones," he murmured. Then, with a slight nod, he continued, "You… you will make it out of here."

  Shock rippled through me. I straightened slightly, my stomach twisting. "What do you mean? What about you?"

  Asmodean merely smiled, shaking his head. "Don’t you worry about it, boy," he said. "I will help you get back to your family. But it will take me six months."

  I jumped to my feet, pushing myself off the cold, uneven stone. "Six months?! Why will it take so long?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

  Asmodean remained unshaken, his expression calm as ever. "It’s not an easy task," he said simply. "It’s not much, but just try to believe in me."

  I scoffed, crossing my arms. "I just met you, and you want me to trust you?" I gave him an incredulous look, my expression twisted between scepticism and annoyance.

  A smirk tugged at the old man's lips as he leaned back. "Be patient, boy. In that time, let’s get to know each other, and I’ll teach you everything I know."

  I let out a deep breath, running a hand through my hair before exhaling sharply. Six months. That is an eternity.

  My body sagged slightly as the weight of that realization settled in. I had no choice but to rely on him—at least for now.

  I sat back down on the cold stone, my arms resting on my knees. "Fine," my voice laced with reluctant acceptance. "But if you’re going to teach me, you better not hold back."

  Asmodean chuckled, standing up slowly, his staff pressing into the ground for support. "Oh, don’t worry, boy. You’ll learn plenty."

  The fire crackled between us, casting flickering shadows along the cavern walls. I looked up at the jagged ceiling, the eerie glow of the bioluminescent plants reflecting in my eyes.

  For the first time since I arrived here, a strange sense of resolve settled in my chest. Whatever lies ahead, I had six months to figure it out.

  I exhaled, staring into the fire.

  Six months. If that’s what it takes, I’ll endure it. I have to. Because no matter what... I’m going home.