Name: Nil

Race: Faithless Deader

Age: Nil

Despite what my [Race] says I know better than any of my fellow Deaders that I am human. I was human...right? No, no, I am human. Despite much of my body receding further into this endless Wall, I remember who I was!

‘Who was that though…who was I?’

My body shifts and shimmers, my arms fading in and out, becoming buff and meaty, then thin, then small and weak. My upper torso free from the wall shrinks, shrivels and blows up with fat all within seconds. My mouth is the worst, one moment I have no teeth and the next it’s all I have in there.

‘The Shimmers of Doubt. I should know better.’

With focus I bring the fluctuating changes to a halt, sticking with the single image I have of myself. Tall, barely broad and slender. Within a moment of focusing my shimmering sick white body sticks to the image, or at least, an approximation.

An effect of our memories, of the Wall’s induced insanity. Should I bother to look up or down or in any direction, I will find several Deaders experiencing the same effects.

I remember having a human body, a human mind and doing human things. From the many conversations I’ve shared since I woke up stuck in this wall, I know the others in here with me are not all human. It can be difficult to tell at times with the Shimmer of Doubt, flickering and uncertainty fill us the longer we remain here but we do share one thing in common. We were once mortal. This wall is a place for mortals.

I can't remember when or how I found myself stuck inside here, but it is a fitting addition to the hellscape. An ever pulsating mesh of skin, tensing muscles and organs stitched together and held in some places by sinew and tendons. And in others it’s held by us, the Deaders it’s absorbing.

The Wall stands on no ground, none that I can see anyway. Ahead, sitting on the only piece of land in the Realm is a grey city. The Wall of Faithless or the Wall of Deaders as we call it, surrounds the city and its island. There are rumours, whispers that within the city, living alongside the Lord are favoured Deaders, the sort that don’t wake up on the wall.

I have doubts about such claims. Hope is just another source of agony in this place, perhaps the worst pain amongst all of them.

A terrible screeching rings across, a screech I and most Deaders are familiar with. Ahead, in the space between the floating island and the wall, a tear in space cuts open as the screeching intensifies. With a burst the tear expands into a measured rectangle, flames spilling through the edges, and in the centre a creature bearing a long head hanging off broad shoulders and carried by expansive batlike scaly wings.

The screeching continues, this time with a heavy flapping to it. Through the open gate I can make out a Beast and before the beating wings even leave the gate the Deaders in the wall scream and struggle fruitlessly against the wall's grip.

But only the Lord of this realm, the Demons, and the Devils can free us.

The Deaders with me fear everything. The Lord who only ever punishes us, the Demons and the Devils who pluck us out for lunch, consuming our essence or taking us through the gateways they flood through. We fear even our minds, the suffering images, the wracking pains and emotional torture the wall puts us through as it slowly absorbs us into nonexistence.

Beating its large scaly wings the beast takes a foothold on the wall, clutching and crushing the Deaders in the way of its stomped feet. It picks up a few more in its beak and takes off, flapping its way back through the gateway.

Screeching and cawing as it retreats through the closing gateway, we Deaders let out a relieved sigh. At least some of us do. There is endless screaming on the wall, Deaders giving out their last grievances, curses and pleas to the world as the wall consumes them. Deaders reliving what must be the worst moments of their mortal lives, aching for a saviour.

But there are Deaders, the types that have sunk more than half way into the wall, Deaders like myself. We have the tolerance to withstand the pains of the wall and our minds torture, but as for the other things, the Lord of the Realm, and the Demons and Devils, that we fear.

“That was close, it won’t be long now.” Croaking, the Deader by my right is nothing more than a face in the wall, its face is white, cheeks sunken, lips dry and head, like the rest of us, devoid of hair.

I know what it speaks of, he speaks of me and my chances of leaving the wall. To some a chance at another life may be a reprieve, an opportunity to do things better, to apply the lessons the wall inflicts on us with our painful memories. But to us farther gone, neck deep in the wall, all we wish is for the ease of nonexistence.

To never breathe, to never fear, to never cry, to never scream and to never live again.

I am of this mind as well, but there are other things I wouldn’t mind occuring.

It is rare I use my voice, screaming has long proved futile and conversation is often too painful to have, so when I speak my throat pops and cracks, releasing the faint whisper I acknowledge as my voice.

“There are still things I wish for.”

“Answers.” The Deader completes.

Ah, we have spoken of this before...how long ago was it?

“Yes. Answers and vengeance.”

Closer than the gate the Devil Beast left through, the space above our bodies on the wall burns, the air flaming until it crackles and pops open. A rift. The shapeless hole in space billows sand, brimstone and spitting acid.

Spilling out of the rift are cackling creatures, bulbous with fat yet held up by the thin rapid flapping wings on their oversized bodies. These are Demons, one of many I’ve seen.

“This may be your moment.” The Deader speaks, eyes resting once more as its head sinks deeper into the wall.

Yes, it just might be.

The rift spills hordes of these demons, they bump into each other, screaming and slapping one another, some taken by anger even forget their task and attack their comrades, but ultimately, the task is carried out.

Their beating wings vibrate the air around them, giving a breath of air in the stale, stagnate Realm but also produce an irritating sound as three to four of them latch onto the limbs and bodies of Deaders poking out of the wall. Together they pull the Deaders out and as they exit through the rift, into the Demon Realm, Reais, a bright red light engulfs the Deader’s chests.

As I wonder for the umpteenth time what that light could be, their beating wings and the wind accompanying them approaches me. There are three ugly ones hovering over me, grunting and spitting at each other. I’ve seen them do this before, argue over whether or not to carry a Deader.

The further into the wall the Deader is the more effort it takes to pull it out, a Deader like the one beside me has no hope of being taken out, unless the Lord of the Realm does the action himself. But that’s a pipe dream.

One sinks its fat, clawed feet into my shoulders, yet I don’t feel a thing. It grunts and snorts at the others and together they lift me out of the wall. Rescuing the rest of my body from the wall feels as effortless as pulling up an empty pail from a well.

Is this all it takes?

Staring down I find the rest of my torso, my legs and feet, before I can examine myself any further the Deader I sank beside for years, decades, it catches my eye. A smile, full of peace, remains on its lips even as it vanishes into the wall.

Good for you.

My attention turns back to my body, it’s white, a fading shade of it, like a sickness. Staring down as I’m carried through the wind I’m shocked to find no answers to a question that has bothered me since I lost my lower half to the wall.

My crutch is flat, smooth with not a single bump of genitalia to be found. Then I remember, this is how I was when I woke up, I’d forgotten through the countless replays of my memories, through the screams of fear when I saw the Devils, Demons and the Great hand of the Lord tear through reality to pluck those on the wall.

I’d forgotten myself over and over, leaving only my cruellest thoughts, emotions and moments from my past. Not for the first time, I ask myself, “Who am I?”

Thoughts on my state of being wipe away as we pass through the rift and the blinding flash of red appears again. My chest burns and I feel a growth push out of it, it hurts but I revel in true, physical sensation. It’s gruesome but pleasant all the same, it is proof that I am alive...in some way or form at least.

My eyes peer open and the pain is right, I am alive.

Name: Nil

Race: Demon

Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

Age: Immortal – 1minute

Crystal Essence: [Pink Lvl.10— 40esq]

[Available Essence Points— 0]

Strength: 12

Agility: 12

Wisdom: 7

Abilities: [Faithless Absorption]. [Faithless Mimicry]

[Available Trait Points— 0]

Traits: Nil

[Available Ascension Perk— 0]

Ascension Perks: Nil

Spells: Nil

Patron: Nil

A lot has changed and not just my status. Taking in the information I see that I am no longer a Deader, but a Demon.

Does this mean I’m the same as these creatures?

Likely not, they still cackle at my awestruck self, but I believe any Deader brought from the wall would be the same as I am, mouth hung ajar, gaping at the scene before me.

The land is split in three, a section on the right nothing but dark purple oceans with sparse islands in between the boiling, bubbling acid that spits out in giant spires, spraying all over the bits of land that float atop the ocean.

The section right below my dangling feet is steaming, my feet burns and no matter the angle I put it it scalds. It’s a wide breadth of land, rumbling hills full of gaping pits spitting fire and lava. Smoke billows in the air I’m flown through, choking and burning my lungs I begin hacking out blots of blood.

Blood...I don’t...its blood.

I haven’t had or seen blood in the physical for...I’m not sure how long. Staring at myself once more I find my body has taken to having colour once more, my skin is an unblemished light brown colour and the black, wavering line in my sight is not a line at all, but my hair.

It’s grown back!

It falls just short of my back, tickling my neck and ears. It’s a curly dark mane I remember from the life the wall played over and over for me. Little features about myself, my hair, the colour of my eyes, my height, my weight and even my gender, these things took a back seat in place of the horrors that still wrack through me.

Thinking about it now I seethe, clenching my fists, curling my toes away from the pain. I recite the promise I’ve made to myself countless times during my time in the wall. A promise to exact vengeance on the Gods that placed me there for little reason other than my ignorance of their existence.

The Demons carrying me begin to descend and I have a better view of the third and last section of this Realm. A sprawling desert of waving sandstorms and little else to be seen behind them, the unknown is frightening.

Reais is as the Deaders spoke of it, an endless hellscape with no relief. I can’t imagine living here but I know I must, I must survive and I must thrive even. Anything less would mean they go free, they go unjudged for their crimes against me.

The closer we descend the larger the figures on the ground below, lines and lines of creatures fat, slim, robust and little. The Demons cackle as they let go of me and I crash behind the last in one of the three lines leading to the centre of the Realm, where all the sections meet.

Crashing onto the scalding ground I scream, feeling something pop in my shoulder as it burns. Here the ground is a mismatch of acid, fiery pits and sand, each of them inflicting some kind of burn on my previously unblemished skin.

I find I’m not alone in my screams, there are many who look like me and many shaped like monsters out of a fantasy. But I know better than to think this a fantasy, the wall taught me better.

This is my reality.

The line moves and shifts periodically, there’s no talking and the skies are flooded with flying Demons wielding long whips. I don’t need to test my luck to know should I utter anything more than a pained scream, I will be whipped.

At least there’s some good coming from my torturous memories.

Looking over the tall, dragon-like beast in front of me I find that the end of the line is nowhere in sight. Not knowing how long I’ll be here I turn my attention to myself, there could be other changes.

And there are. Stark naked with feet still burning I look down only to be disappointed, my gender still hasn’t been revealed, I’d look to the human shaped people ahead of me but I fear the whip of the fluttering Demons overhead. But there is a change.

Just below my neck, poking out of my chest is a crystal, it beats a faint pink light, humming as it does.

[Soul Crystal]

While I wonder what it is I peruse through my status once more.

Name: Nil

Race: Demon

Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

Age: Immortal – 1hour

Crystal Essence: [Pink Lvl.10— 40esq]

[Available Essence Points— 0]

Strength: 12

Agility: 12

Wisdom: 7

Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry]

[Available Trait Points— 0]

Traits: Nil

[Available Ascension Perk— 0]

Ascension Perks: Nil

Spells: Nil

Patron: Nil

[Crystal Essence] catches my eye, it tells the colour of the [Soul Crystal] embedded in my chest and its level apparently. What that means I have yet to learn.

[Abilities], [Traits], [Spells] and [Patron] all escape me as well. I understand their meaning of course but not as they pertain to me. Worse of all is [Ascension Perks] what does that even mean?

More questions and yet no answers. I suppose we wait.

[Trait: [Tough Skin] Attained!]

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