The Last Circle-Chapter 20: Voices of Perdition

Nameless, weary and burdened by the pain he suffered before, shuddered at every footstep. Each one a beacon of death; a reminder, weighing heavy on his heart, that his punishment had not yet ended.

He wanted nothing more than to turn to the fiery embrace of the ruinous flames; to raze everything to ash, but his shackled arms and legs—refusing to get on the move in their quake—held him back. His fear, like a fleeting whisper that left and visited his mind as it pleased, held him at bay.

Perhaps he possessed the strength to do so with the Rift of Flame, but he knew very well that the creatures of Hell, much like the accursed realm, were unpredictable. There was no such thing as observing the creatures to understand them better. Without first facing one and understanding how it behaved; how it attacked; how it moved, how could he expect to take on multiple at once?

'Curses!' he yelled internally, teeth grit, palms sweaty, and crimson-fire eyes quivering. 'Come on, Nameless, relax!'

He told himself that several times by now, but each mention of "relax" carried with it more of a burden than relief. Each repetition, a curse that drew him insane; the key unlocking the nexus to insanity.

A blood-curdling holler tore through the echoing footsteps, further into the Vagrant's Pass, bringing the strange creatures to an abrupt halt, allowing Nameless a brief moment of respite.

'Okay, let's check around the—'

His inner voice was cut off by a drum roll of the echoing footsteps, rushing towards the source of the noise, and what terrifying sounds he heard next made his heart sink into the deepest abyss.

He wondered if it was it the cry of a fellow Hell-dweller, listening to what he could only assume were the sounds of flesh being ripped apart, bones crushed and tossed to the side. The blood-curdling holler reverberated in his ears, until it was nothing more than a putrid gargle.

And then that sound came: A high-pitched, hair-raising, petrifying screech that pierced his ears like the tip of a blade, shaking his frame. One by one, the same shrieks joined to form a dissonant chorus, each one slightly out of tune.

'I need to go right now, or I'm next,' so he thought, checking his east and west before peering around the corner to his east. 'Those behemoths should be on the other side... Let's go, quick and quiet.'

Making sure to keep a low profile, he swiftly vaulted over a set of jagged rocks, making sure to make sure the coast was clear whenever he approached an intersection.

Another voice cried out, which startled him into hiding behind a pillar. The behemoths rushed over again and, just like the last time, they devoured whosoever was foolish enough to make even the slightest noise.

'Go right,' he told himself, pitying those who suffered, but even if he could help them, it's not like he wanted to. After all, he was in the great race to Heaven, stopping to save no one at all.

He couldn't help but wonder just how many others were stuck down here as well, though, as one by one, more and more blood-curdling howls echoed into the labyrinthine passages. Each yell thwarted his plans and, with no way to know where the next one would come from, the monstrous behemoths rushed all over the place. Some passed by the rock pillars he hid behind, while some were far off.

'At the very least,' he peered around the corners before walking out, 'they're moving as a group. As long as I keep this pace, and the yells continue, I should be fine.'

But being fine was not enough. He was quite aware that if he made even the slightest error; one wrong step; one wrong assumption, then he'd be finished, and he may as well kiss his chances at returning to grace goodbye.

There was, however, one thing that bothered him—which stemmed into a few concerns, as he thought:

'The voices... they're... moving with me?'

Such a thought entered his mind the further he progressed, finding that the voices always cried out further ahead. In fact, more often than not, he merely frowned as the howls of terror started, rather than being startled.

'Strange...'

Perhaps he was looking into it a little too much. After all, he found that his fears often got the best of his senses, causing him to extrapolate something out of nothing.

He discarded the thought, deciding that there was no reason to pay any heed to the voices, but no matter what, his cynical mind always brought him back to a full circle.

Why did, whoever was down here, only scream to bring about their own deaths? It wasn't as though they were dying immediately afterward too, given the fact that their deathly voices resounded only after the behemoths moved towards the sources.

Things were happening a little... too coordinated. Every time, the voices always carried the same tune, the same terror, and the same pain that followed with the behemoths' arrival. In fact, the more he actually listened—rather than panicking in his hiding spots—the more he thought:

'The voices sound exactly the same too... Something is not right in this place.'

He hid behind another pillar, narrowly avoiding a run in with a lone behemoth. For once, he was actually relieved to find one on its own, given that it drove his mind away from the idea of him being in a controlled environment.

'Wait! A controlled environment?' he said to himself as he hid crouched, casting his frowned gaze to the tops of the stone pillars.

Nothing, or rather, no one was there. Only the dim purple sky, along with the bright white anomaly just beyond the periphery of his vision, hid outside the Vagrant's Pass.

Even so, he refused to believe it. Something was going on, and it would only be a matter of time until he found the one behind it, or until the behemoths found him. Whatever came first.

Seeing that the coast was clear once more, he continued onward, keeping a twitching eye out on his clustered surroundings. The behemoths, as of now, were far off to the right, and had yet to respond to another call for... help? Death?

Again, his mind came to a full circle as he walked in the silence, promptly broken by the echoing footsteps. If it was a controlled environment, then he needed to put an end to the voices...

'And what better way than to go and check out the other half of this place?'

It was an idea he considered the entire time he continued onward. Originally, he thought it was the stupidest thing he could do, given that luck was on his side... this time; for now. But that was reason enough for him to think that he needed to put an end to the confounding variable in his trek through this accursed home of hellish creatures.

'Besides,' he looked off to his right, then his left, weighing the risk of his choice, 'if there really are others, maybe I can take their stuff? Free artifacts...' he looked down at his loincloth, somehow still in perfect condition, 'and maybe some damn clothes for a change!'

And it that moment, his luck ran out right there and then, because the bell decided to ring. Not knowing whether the behemoths were creatures of the darkness or not, he had no choice but to go left now, for that uncertainty tossed more than just a wrench into his plans.

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