The Star Of Depravity - Chapter 1

Thunder rumbled like trumpets; the sky scorched in flames as tiny branches of lightning spread throughout dark clouds, illuminating each patch it crosses.

What looked to be like lightning streaks from all over the open space gathered in one line. Dark clouds enclosed them in a tight, shining halo. The lines colorized in different hues and shades, but he remembered purple the most.

Out of nowhere, a thick, dusky mist coiled around the purple streak, the outcome of the combination reflected in his hazel irises. Its light blinked faster than the rest, and it was traveling like a dragon ready to burn the world down.

In a split second, the lines dispersed like comets, a burst erupting in the entire atmosphere.

Then, he was falling.

His scream got overlapped by the thunder’s roar.

He took a sharp breath that constricted his chest, nausea spreading in his temples as his hair poked at his eyes.

The air served as the missing flooring, the sky now a blanket of stars that sheltered him from the brewing storm.

He clamored incessantly for the non-existent handle, but he only grasped the empty air.

A streak of light resembling a shooting star passes through his sides, blinding his vision for a moment as he reached his left arm above, his palm open-wide toward the obsidian sky that loomed before him.

Was he expecting someone to take it?

No one would.

No one did when he was still alive.

The white light followed him in a straight mark. It didn’t waver, as if it had known what path to take. It was a pure, sheer line that trekked in the unfathomable, faster than the speed he’s at.

Soon, it was out of his sight.

The low chuckle bellowed in his ears like the devil, its breath apparent in his skin.

He detested it.

As he plunged deeper and deeper, the air pressed down on him, his hoodie already like an inflated balloon.

He didn’t know how long he’d been descending, but he felt the burn in his throat from screaming non-stop the entire time of his fall. His chest’s weight was something to take note of like he’d been tied with a metal door. But despite the physical feeling of his body, he’d been numb inside. He was a statue, firm, and incapable of feeling. Undead. Unalive. Uncaring.

He curved his head below. Squinting, he noticed something radiant and colored like a jade in the middle of a clump of tall, gloomy trees.

Recognition struck him when he was a few inches away from the murky waters. He was going to plummet into a glowing swamp, already assuming the impact would hurt his spine.

Closing his eyes, he calmly awaited his death once more.

Please let me die. 

It was a beg to the gods of his world.

Though he knew they wouldn’t listen.

Splash!

He felt the earth-shattering crack of his spine as he let out a cry and drank a few gulps of the murky water occupying the space. Its taste hints of mold and leaves that warped his stomach. He expects to shatter on the ground as a hollow block would, but he didn’t. Instead, it felt like he was slammed hard on a concrete wall. He thinks the impact of the fall had broken every bone he had. It didn’t help that the swamp was shallower than he initially thought it would.

Then, he heard it again.

It was that horrifying voice that made him ponder of the unthinkable.

What are you doing? It asked as he let himself sink on the wet soil, the bubbles of his breath flowing further away.

There it was again. The dark chuckle that made the hair on his arms stand.

Dying. What do you think? He answered straightforwardly in a monotonous voice he conjured in his mind despite the intolerable ache in his chest.

Was it making fun of him?

It’s not your day, it claimed.

Suddenly, there was a compelling force that made him open his eyes.

Despite the ripples of water from the surface, he saw it again—the noticeable clear light. It passed by in a flash. Then, his background darkened, but he’s sure he’s still submerged in the moldy waters.

He felt the need to cough, his heart pounding loud in his chest.

Soon, he couldn’t stop the reflexes that came about. He coughed, and at the same time, felt water fill his lungs. It burned his insides like it were poison and acid mixed together. His lungs stung gravely. It felt like he was continuously gargling and drinking at the same time.

I’m not letting you, the dark entity’s voice reverberated with a hint of truth.

He felt the certainty behind his tone, and it made everything all the more terrifying than it did when it haunted him in his dreams.

He was suddenly brought on the surface, a gripping force dragging him toward the swamp’s shallowest part.

The damp, strand-like leaves of the trees materialized over him as his coughing intensified. He felt like he’d puked his intestines out. He positioned his hand on the ground, his palms leaving a mark on the damp dirt.

Lowering his head, he began heaving like a mad man. The ground met his lips, and he jerked away from its unfamiliar smell.

Ignoring it, he went back on the matter at hand: he couldn’t believe that he had escaped death—again.

He heaved one more time, and mucus came running out of his mouth and nose. The putrid smell around him didn’t help either. It was a cycle of puking and heaving until his sense of taste turned awfully bitter.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it smelled so horrible he kept lurching out every liquid he had in his body.

What’s happening? He blurted out nervously.

A loud huff that resembled a beast’s groan came, and he felt its breath behind his ears.

Come now, the voice urged. The tone was lower and more ragged. He roamed his gaze before he vomited another bitter bile.

His line of vision began swirling; his lean body was standing erect on the ground despite being convinced that he’d collapse anytime soon. His lips’ choppiness made it easy for cuts, the taste of iron now occupying his tongue.

Swiftly arching his back with an unknown source for his vigor, he felt his bones crack a second time as the sky greeted his face.

He abruptly felt a stinging pain on his back—like his skin was being engulfed in flames. His screams sounded distressed while his words were a bloody plea for the pain to leave.

Unwilling tears sprouted at the corner of his eyes as he continuously yelled his agony. It echoed all over the place, and soon, odd animals with plum irises and red pupils began appearing within the vicinity.

The groan he immitted didn’t sound like him. It was… Inhuman.

He was horrified. He felt his control slipping out—

The sensations stopped as fast when it came.

Silence.

He let out a huff of breath.

The muscles on his legs spasmed, and a purple hue crawled on the veins in his arms. Obsidian mist flew about him like a fly. Glowing jade-colored water fell on the tips of his hair.

Welcome, Ervin Wang.

It was the dark voice, and it’s behind his head, its infamous chuckle making him regret dying.