Head pounding. Ears ringing. He woke up oscillating side to side.


    Shakily grabbing onto the railings, he hoisted his frame upright. The drop in pressure lulled him forwards and back, his world nothing but a stuffy blot of murkiness. Yawning expressively, he could feel the stretch of fabric over his face, stifle his mouth.


    Pulling the constrictive piece of cloth off his face, Azrael inhaled a mouthful, liberated from the confines of his mask. A sudden twinge of pain over his temple, urged him to clutch the edge of his head. Stabs of bleary lines were accentuated by magenta strands. “Not very nice of her.”


    He remembered a while back, someone had told him, the women at the stronghold were brutish. And now he knew why.


    Concealing the mask in his back pocket, he surveyed his surroundings, seeking to ascertain his position within the steel confines ensnaring him. The windows offered a view into a bottomless chasm of nothingness, the darkness swallowing the world outside. Shifting his gaze to the opposite window, he observed six sleek metal constructs resembling gigantic caterpillars, their polished bodies hurtling along the monorails. An engine at the forefront led the procession, pulling thirteen carriages arranged at a lower angle than the one he was riding.


    “Are those trains?” Azrael mused, his hand absentmindedly rubbing his chin. A different beast from the giant wheel.


    The view rekindled his intrigue, tugging at his thoughts. He was reeled in by the moving metal parts, lost in a reverie.


    All of sudden, his air was cut off.


    Whisking his attention over to his throat, a jangle of linked metal encircled his neck, tipping his balance. The sudden shift sent the redhead stumbling backwards, his body colliding against shattered glass. Agonizing shards pierced his skin, peppering his back with a newfound hell.


    “Looks like I got paired with an idiot who doesn’t even know what a train is.” A gruff voice garnered his attention to a mountain of a woman, clad in polished leather from mask till boot, her glowering rubies for eyes trained on him. The chain around his throat came from a pair of manacles around her colossal wrists, tightening till his breath was ragged.


    “Lady, that’s one hell of a grip you’ve got.” A struggling Azrael desperately tugged at his bonds.


    Draping a second set of chains around him, the woman grabbed the metal closest to the manacles, and swung them towards the opposite window, wringing him out the carriage, past a second shower of shards.


    Was it all over before it had even begun?


    Despair clutched him, tightening around his throat like a noose, threatening to plunge him into the depths of the abyss. His senses were corroded by an undeniable overture, one that would put an end to it all.


    The darkness besieged him, tempting him, offering him the freedom he so desired. He could be free of it all and plunge into oblivion.


    All he had to do was, let go. Give in. Allow himself to drop dead.


    Limp and powerless, Azrael crashed headfirst into a cacophony of glass and metal, bending a plastic seat that partially cushioned his fall. He landed beside a lifeless body with blurry vision and broken humeri jutting out at odd angles. The pain stirred him up from the despair bound trance he was lost in.


    “Are they hurling meat cannons at us?” grunted a short-tempered stout gnome, brandishing a hammer nearly twice his own size. Peering out the window, he pointed an accusatory finger at the adjacent monorail.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Reeling from the impact of his crash landing, Azrael unwound his mangled form, a dab of miasma mending his broken body. Rising to his feet, he noted the gnome’s spellbound countenance, marvelling at his regenerative ascent.


    “That’s freaky,” the diminutive demon muttered, shaking off his initial stupor. He swung his hammer at the redhead.


    Azrael wrapped his arms around the incoming hammer, dissipating the brunt of its force through his newly mended ribs. A wince escaped his lips as he extended his arm around the handle, and with a sly glint in his eye, he whispered, “enjoy the ride.”


    He lashed out with a kick to the demon’s torso, releasing his grip on the weighted hammer simultaneously. With a wave of his hand, he watched the gnome hurtle into the yawning abyss below, bidding him farewell.


    “Lucky I was cast from a level above rather than one below. Though, I should have asked him what all of this was about. Lilith really is heartless, knocking me out and shipping me off to some deathmatch with no heads up.” He reached towards his flank, instinctively searching for the familiar weight of his trusty katana, only to find empty air. That is, if Lilith is even your name.


    He gritted his teeth, his frustration clawing away at his unarmed conundrum, urging his gaze to shift towards the lifeless body lying in the vicinity, its features bludgeoned beyond recognition. Clucking his tongue, he decided to rummage through the corpse, seeking a replacement weapon amidst the aftermath. It wasn’t long before his fingers found solace in a pair of dual sheathed daggers hanging from the corpse’s waist.


    Just as he belted the purloined blades, the doors leading to the adjacent carriage was swung open, revealing a chaotic mess. A quintet of demons, drenched in blood and surrounded by an oppressive miasma, were engaged in a fierce clash. Azrael pressed himself flat against the wall, his eyes fixed on the riotous demon quintet, consumed by their own brutal skirmish. Lucky for him, they were oblivious to his presence as they rushed past, in a frenzy.


    His foot fell against the chunk shorn off a broken seat, prompting an audible crunch.


    The cacophony of battle abruptly ceased, and the five demons turned from each other and fixated their attention on the loitering redhead. With a wave and a nonchalant shrug, he acknowledged their newfound focus, taking a cautious step back, his grip tightening around the purloined daggers.


    “Oi, looks like we got ourselves fresh meat,” said a demon with a horse’s head, waving a pickaxe at Azrael. Setting aside the differences the five had had, they all charged at him, garnering comradery over newfound enmity.


    Assuming a fighting stance, he unsheathed his daggers, ready for battle. The horse-headed demon’s strike clashed against his unsheathed blades, detonating sparks. Meanwhile, the remaining members of the quintet sprouted grotesque outgrowths from their limbs, a deluge of twisted fingers, arms, and razor-sharp claws aimed at Azrael.


    He instinctively took a step back, gritting his teeth. Clenching his daggers, he readied himself. It’s going to be a long day. Drawing up a fighting stance, he launched off, swinging his daggers.


    All of a sudden, the fabric of reality itself shifted.


    Gravity’s pull was reversed.


    Weightlessness washed over him.


    Instinctively, he bared his blades, like a viper’s fangs. The knives clamoured against the roof, lighting up sparks.


    His stolen weaponry slid off, barely leaving a dent in the hull.


    As he slid onwards, losing his grip, he willed forth a rush of miasma. With all his might, he drove the stolen daggers once more through the steel belly of the carriage’s roof, puncturing its armour.


    He held on for dear life, as he watched the chaos unfold.


    The quintet of demons found themselves entangled in a grotesque dance of their own appendages, limbs tearing and shredding, as flesh got intimate with the pickaxe, as passionate lovers over linen.


    As the furore raged on, Azrael felt his grip on the dagger weakening. The train tumbled over, hurtling through space. In an instant, blade and redhead were expelled out a shattered window, plunging once more into the murky abyss.


    Despair sank its teeth into every fibre of his being, plummeting into the darkness.


    “Why can’t it all come to an end?” he lamented.


    He reached the peak of his fall, his trajectory reaching the end of its arc. No matter how far he stretched his hands, protracted his fingers, he couldn’t reach the rails, as the oncoming train sped faster and further away, while he plunged into the darkness.


    He eyed the train past the rail’s gaps, as he trailed behind.


    The inevitable abyss yawned with a seductive touch, its depths beckoning him with a merciless certainty.


    There is no hope.


    In that moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if the gnome he had brusquely cast into darkness felt the same way, spiralling into the depths of despair.


    I’ll find out soon enough.


    He closed his eyes, his waning resolve sinking.


    Fuck. Karma really is a bitch.