Chapter 13: Chapter 12 - Trial

Its body shared a similar composition to the golden serpent’s—long and serpentine—but it was noticeably shorter and far less massive. Along its length, small clawed limbs jutted out like gnarled branches, resembling the tangled limbs of a leafless bush.

It didn’t take long for Rein to recognize the creature’s form.

A dragon. There was no mistaking it. Not the kind with wings and massive limbs, but the kind with a sinuous, serpent-like body and a regal, commanding presence. He had seen it once, sketched in a worn page of an old book. It was called a Lóng. An ancient draconic entity revered in one of the Overworld’s great continents, though the name of that land escaped him now.

They were said to be companions of emperors, creatures of wisdom and power who commanded the wind and rain with a flick of their whiskers. But the illustrations he remembered bore no resemblance to this.

The Lóng in those books had sleek, scaled bodies, vibrant manes, and deep, knowing eyes. They did not have a face composed entirely of living flame, nor a body that smoldered like molten stone. This one blazed like pure fire itself yet somehow without giving off a single trace of heat. It was a living impossibility.

This wasn’t a simple Lóng but something else. An evolution, perhaps, or a variant touched by the chaos of the Underworld. Or maybe it was simply what the myths had failed to capture. Truth, stripped of the soft edges of legend.

Once again, Rein found himself staring at something he once dismissed as a mere story.

And once again, reality proved his imagination far too small.

Just as Rein’s mind swirled with questions—about the Lóng’s bewildering appearance, its intentions, whether it meant to speak or to slowly dismantle their bodies as prey—his thoughts were abruptly scattered by the emergence of yet another impossible creature.

From the depths of the abyss, a second being rose into view. It resembled the Lóng in every detail, save for one glaring difference: it was smaller, noticeably so, as if its creator had run out of material mid-creation. But there was another distinction, perhaps the most striking of all. Its flaming face and glowing scales shimmered not in red, but in radiant silver.

Before Rein could even register the shock, another followed. And then another. Each new arrival shared the same serpent-like shape, decreasing in size, but still with the similar flowing motion and majestic drift. These also came in shifting hues. One cloaked in brilliant emerald flame, the next in deep violet. Now, four Lóngs encircled them like coiling serpents closing in on prey. Though their movements were smooth and almost reverent, Rein couldn’t help but wonder if they were being watched… or judged.

They circled endlessly, the largest—the red one—leading the way, followed in descending order of size: silver, emerald, then violet. Despite the otherworldly chaos of their flaming forms and the disorienting swirl of colors, there was an unmistakable sense of order in their movement. The symmetry of their procession had a rhythm to it. Mesmerizing, almost sacred. It was the kind of motion that demanded reverence, or at the very least, stillness.

Rein felt a small, cold hand tighten around his. He glanced down at Morin, expecting to see the kind of wide-eyed fear anyone—especially a child—might carry in the presence of such impossibility.

But she wasn’t afraid.

Her golden eyes shimmered with awe, not dread. Her expression was lit with wonder, her mouth slightly parted as she watched the flaming serpents encircle them like a living halo. Rein blinked in surprise, and slowly—almost reluctantly—felt the same curiosity stirring in his chest, eclipsing the fear that had held him frozen moments before. He smiled, swallowing down his nerves.

Then, a voice like thunder cloaked in silk echoed through the air.

“Rein Tou,” spoke the red Lóng, its jaws parting but unmoving as the words resonated from deep within, as if pulled from the very marrow of the world.

“Morin Tou,” came the silver one next, its mouth also still, the sound manifesting without breath or motion, uncanny and absolute.

Rein felt his throat twitch, the instinct to respond sharp and immediate, but something in him held back. They weren’t finished. He swallowed his reply, his gut whispering that to speak now might be a mistake.

“You have been delivered by a Warden from the Overworld to the Underworld for an injustice you have committed,” came the next voice, deep and crystalline, this time from the third—the emerald Lóng.

A Warden? Rein's thoughts raced. Were they referring to the Million Whale?

“The crime of association and servitude under demonic forces,” spoke the fourth and smallest Lóng, the violet one, its voice softer but no less resonant.

“And under that service, unjustly harming Mankind,” the red Lóng continued, its voice as thunderous as before. The rotation of voices persisted, moving from one to the next in a seamless cadence. First to last, then back again.

“You have been allied with demonic forces for...” the silver one began, pausing mid-sentence as if retrieving data from some unseen ledger.

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“Zero years, zero days, and zero hours,” it finished.

Rein furrowed his brows. What?

“You are required to undergo the purification ritual,” said the emerald Lóng, its tone clinical, detached. “The demonic influence shall be cast out of your body by a designated priest.”

Another brief silence followed, broken only by the circling flames and the pounding of Rein's heart.

“A ritual that will last...” it began again, voice calm.

“Zero years, zero days, and zero hours,” the violet one concluded.

The Lóngs’ words barely registered in Rein’s mind. Their alternating voices, strange cadence, and alien faces made it difficult to keep track of what was even being said. But the core message slowly sank in.

He and Morin were being judged, put on trial for a crime neither of them remembered committing. Some form of “purification ritual” had been mentioned, though its stated duration of zero years, zero days, and zero hours only added to the absurdity. What did that even mean? Was it symbolic, literal, or some kind of metaphysical process?

“State the name of your Warden, in order to confirm their payment for the service of your capture.”

This time, it was unmistakably a question.

Rein’s heart thudded. Payment? Warden? Were they really referring to the Million Whale? If so, what kind of payment was even made? He glanced at Morin, hoping she might have an answer, but she was just as still and silent as he was, her face scrunched in equal parts confusion and curiosity.

They had no idea how to respond.

After a long, weighty silence, the silver Lóng repeated the question, its voice calm, emotionless, without even a hint of impatience.

Rein hesitated. The silence pressing down on them was unbearable, and though the Lóngs didn’t seem irritated, he couldn’t shake the fear of what might happen if they kept refusing to answer.

There was only one being who could possibly fit the role of a Warden. The one who had carried them through the Overworld, all the way here, the Underworld.

“…The Million Whale?” he said, the uncertainty heavy in his voice.

Morin gave a small nod beside him, echoing his guess.

Again, silence.

The Lóngs continued to circle them in silence, the multicolored embers of their forms trailing like comets in the dark.

Finally, the emerald Lóng spoke. “We do not recognize that name among the registered Wardens. However… we detect no falsehood in your words.”

“We will open an inquiry into this anomaly,” said the purple one. “The unknown Warden, and the inconsistencies in your charges. Until then, you are to remain within the realm assigned to you and await a final ruling.”

“For none who are sent here have ever arrived by mistake,” the red one intoned.

“We are the Fire Lóng,” said the silver one.

“We are the Divine Beast of Patience,” continued the emerald.

“We were created by the Archsaint Monica,” said the violet.

“We serve as the guardian and judge of the Underworld,” the red declared.

"We bid you farewell and good wishes as you undergo your sentence and await your return to the Overworld."

“In accordance with our mandate, we now bid you farewell—and endurance—as you undergo your sentence and await your return to the Overworld.”

“Trial number twenty-four million, three hundred thousand, five hundred and seventy-one is hereby adjourned.”

“Transferring the prisoners to realm number seven hundred forty-eight.”

The Lóng spoke in their alternating pattern once more, each voice following the other in perfect succession. Even the pauses between their sentences were identical, timed to the exact second. Though they were four distinct beings, they moved and spoke with a singular mind.

Amid the swirl of confusion and the strangeness of the exchange, one truth settled firmly in Rein’s thoughts: the Underworld—the realm he had once longed to explore—wasn’t a place of discovery or wonder. It was a prison. Not just one meant for punishment, but for purification, meant to purge something called “demonic influence”, a term he barely understood.

Yet even with that revelation, something inside him remained unshaken.

Prison or not, it was still a world unknown. And unknown meant uncharted. And uncharted meant adventure. That word pulsed again in his mind, like a heartbeat.

Beneath them, the stone platform began to glow.

Lines of light stretched from one edge to another, intersecting and branching like veins, forming intricate triangles, circles, and layered shapes. Between them, glowing script ignited. Symbols and scribbles that resembled words but held no meaning Rein could decipher. It looked like a summoning circle pulled from a mythical tome, or a scene painted in those old fictional books that tried to capture the feel of long-lost magical rites.

The glowing symbols and shapes eventually stopped forming.

No more lines, no more cryptic words, just the steady, pulsing red light that bathed the platform in an eerie glow. The Lóng were gone. The floating torches had vanished too, snuffed out without a sound.

Then the ground beneath them trembled.

Cracks splintered across the stone, spiderwebbing outward in sharp, sudden bursts. Rein barely had time to react before the platform gave way beneath their feet, collapsing into countless fragments and sending him and Morin plummeting into the abyss below. Their hands stayed locked together, gripping tighter as the wind howled around them.

They should have been terrified. A fall from that height, into pitch-black nothingness, should have meant certain death. But somehow, deep in his gut, Rein felt otherwise, that the Lóng hadn’t lied. This fall wasn’t an execution, but was a transition. Some form of transportation.

The wind rushed past them like knives of ice, slipping through the seams of their clothing, whipping through their hair, stinging their eyes. They dropped for what felt like an eternity, gravity stretching each second until time itself lost meaning.

Then, at last—color.

Far below, the darkness began to lift, revealing a strange, radiant sea. No jagged rocks. No endless void. What waited at the bottom wasn’t death, but light.

Shimmering waves of green, red, and blue danced like silk across a massive expanse, weaving through each other without ever clashing. It reminded Rein of the Aurora Borealis back on Rigel. Those rare days when the skies would blaze with color, a side effect of energy flaring violently from the realm’s surface.

But this wasn’t the sky. This was the ground.

A sea of light.

And they were falling straight into it.

They shut their eyes tightly as they passed through the blinding sea of lights. And when they opened them again, they were somewhere else. Yet another unfamiliar place.

The sensation of falling had vanished, not slowed or softened, but cut off entirely. It left a strange, unsatisfying emptiness in its absence, like a story missing its ending. No impact, no landing, just standing.

The biting wind that had once lashed their bodies was gone, replaced by a soft, dry breeze that carried a faint warmth. It wasn’t comforting, exactly, but it was gentler.

This place, at least, wasn’t a suspended platform surrounded by abyss.

There was solid ground beneath them. Space to move. No immediate threat of plummeting to their deaths. That alone was enough to let Rein exhale a little.