The pain bled away.
One breath, he was choking on his own blood, the stone cold against his face, the weight of three enemies pressing him into the dirt. The next—silence. No fire, no steel, no shouts of war. Just silence.
Karl opened his eyes.
There was nothing. A void stretched around him, endless and still, blacker than the deepest night. Yet it wasn't empty. A faint shimmer hung in the air, drifting like dust caught in invisible light. Each particle burned faint red, as if embers floated in the dark.
He tried to move, but his body felt heavy, sluggish, as though he'd been buried under mountains. He looked down—his wounds were still there. His chest torn, his arms split, blood dripping freely, but it fell into nothing and vanished before it touched the void.
Karl spat, his voice ragged. "So this is it? Death?" He laughed once, bitter. "Figures. Not even flames to greet me. Just emptiness."
The void trembled.
