Winter felt a mountain roll off his entire being. Who could have known that dying gave such relief? If Winter did not know better, he would die again if given a chance.
'…wait, no, never mind.'
But what's more, he felt something — something unfamiliar…
It felt like the wind was cutting his skin, and the hair on his body started to crawl. It was like something he had never felt before… cold.
In his entire life, Winter had never felt cold; he had always been immune to it. This had given him an advantage, allowing him to survive longer than anyone thought he would. Most people die of the cold in the Ruins. There is no reliable way to create heat without giving away one's location.
Winter was not sure why, but he always suspected that it had something to do with the snowflake-patterned rune on his left chest.
And now… that suspicion was confirmed.
After one of the bandits had pierced his left chest, it had also damaged the intricate pattern engraved on it.
Before dying, he had felt the same sensation as now.
After finding the answer to the mystery, he was left with even more questions.
'Where did I get the rune from?'
'Did someone put it there, or was I born with it?'
'And why the hell am I still around!?'
Winter looked down at the body of a frail boy who was currently bleeding from a ghastly wound on his chest. The boy had white hair and grey, desolate eyes.
As Winter watched blood flow from the boy, he noticed two things.
One, the boy… or, well, Winter, was still breathing.
Two, Winter was slowly ascending higher into the air.
'Am I… going to heaven?'
'…Surely not…'
Winter was not religious and believed that the gods were too cruel to make a perfect paradise for their… followers.
He did believe in hell, but he was currently leaving that behind…
Winter started thinking about his life until now and began counting his blessings.
'One… tw-, wait no, just one.'
His only blessing was the immunity to cold.
He wanted to count his misfortunes but stopped after losing count.
'Fate truly is unfair.'
It felt like the gods had forsaken him, cursed him, and persecuted him throughout his entire life, as if he had committed the gravest of sins.
'Existence…'
After pondering about his life, he decided to let it go and focus on the situation at hand. He still had no idea what was happening…
…Until a crazy idea entered his mind.
'Am I ascending!?' he thought, excitement and hope finding their way to his heart.
…Or soul, since his body was still lying on the ground, a thin layer of snow accumulating on it.
But then he thought otherwise.
'Yeah right, as if that would happen to me…'
After losing all hope once more, he braced himself for the inevitable darkness that would come and consume his soul in death.
Just as a blinding light flashed in his vision, a thundering voice of unknown source resounded in his very being, reverberating deep within his soul…
[Do you wish… to asc-]
But before the voice could finish, Winter willed to answer yes, his soul screaming for a chance at vengeance, and the voice followed…
[Then rise… and claim your place in the heavens.]
Winter was at a complete loss for words. He could not believe his luck. After surviving in the Ruins, just barely holding on to the hope of a better life, he was finally going to make it out of these godforsaken ruins.
'What the fu-'
But before that thought registered, the voice that seemed to come from within resounded once again…
[Reach the altar to return…]
'No… way…'
After that, the blinding light dissipated, and Winter found himself surrounded by nothing but a desolate void.