Pilot Chapter 2
Being strapped down to the chair, Ash was helpless to do anything. Simply being too tired and frail to combat the large body of the two security guards that had tackled him just mere minutes earlier.
It was a lot to take, from second to second, he was growing more tired, exponentially increasing the anxiety he felt. It was all just so incredibly wrong, everything. Ash just couldn't place his tongue on it.
He felt more and more tired; staying awake now was a chore more than anything. Lost in his thoughts, Ash gritted his teeth.
'Bullshit… damn bullshit…'
In walked a simpleton, mainly a professor of the guild who would guide Ash into his first dream… More or less a hellish dream, a nightmare. The first and hoping at the fact that this wouldn't be his last.
Drawing blood from biting his lip, too hard to stay awake, listening to the guide and tips of the professor. The one-sided conversation dragged on and on til the end of time itself.
'Such… A lame ass world….'
Ash's eyes flickered, his eyelids closed, only to be forced open by his muscles around the eye. He was flamed by pure jealousy, the fact that he would face his first nightmare and arguably the hardest with a major disadvantage.
The blood trickled down from his lip, slowly moving to his chin, a drop gracefully formed and dropped to the ground. Creating a small stain on the concrete floor.
"-As you probably know - people - in - dream world - are not real -"
Making out what the professor was saying made his head spin. The information he could gather, or foremost, what sounded important, was that the people in a dream world are not actual people, and if he died in the dream.
Ash would die in the real world, too. Slipping into sleep, he closed his eyes finally. Letting his tense muscles relax slowly, the energy from the cup of coffee was overpowered by Ash's sheer will to rest. To sleep.
And that was what Ash did. Slowly waking up, he found himself in complete darkness; he could barely see himself. Well, what could even be said about himself?
He was naked with no clothes; his body was more or less a floaty material now. He touched himself on his chest. His hand was going through his torso as if he were a ghost, a semi-liquid, a gaseous object.
He trailed his fingertips along his chest area, moving to his malevolent scar. It was glowing a deep dark red. It pulsated with every heartbeat of Ash's heart.
He heard his inner voice, which was, although a woman's voice, melancholic and straightforward.
"Welcome, Ash. Your first trial will begin. Good luck."
Everything became black once more before he could see his environment. It was as if he had blinked, although he barely registered the crimson molten lava around him, the smell of brimstone and death and agony. What he felt first was the overwhelming desire to scream in agony. His body was on fire, no, made out of pure crimson flames that burned the flesh and charred his bones.
He was in hell.