Magical World: The Chosen One

5."What Do You Think About Making A Deal?"

I cast a shaky glance around and slowly got to my feet. Struggling to stand, I focused on my surroundings. It was pitch dark. A fire had been lit. This was evident from the crackling sounds it made as it burned. If a fire was lit, why was it so dark around? There wasn't even the dim light of the fire.

I waited, hoping my eyes would adapt to the environment so I could see. I was still looking around. Suddenly, the surroundings were dimly illuminated by purple lights. I felt like I was in a purple hell. It was a world surrounded by dancing purple flames, where pitch-black souls silently roamed, resembling shadows but lifelike. One of them passed by me but did nothing.

As I questioned my own existence, I checked my hands. Had I died? If I had died and this was hell, I should be like these souls. But I was normal. I couldn't tell if I belonged to this strange realm. My eyes caught other souls, but then I saw someone who hadn't turned like me.

Approaching me with a sly smile, that person said, "Welcome to the realm of the dead." I reexamined this man and the purple hell, pondering what fate awaited me here, as I tried to unravel the secrets of my own existence.

In the deadly scene surrounding us, amidst the smoky atmosphere, agonizing screams, and dark crevices, we conversed. Amidst the strange serenity of hell, he gazed at me with vacant eyes.

"Am I dead?" I asked him, looking at him with worried eyes.

Amidst the fiery visage of hell, the sparking volcanoes, and terrifying sights, the person examining me replied with an emotionless expression, "My soul is trapped in limbo, and that's why I'm like this. Probably your situation too."

With a worried look, I asked, "Does this mean I'm dead?"

"I'm not sure," he replied again with his sinister gaze and smirk. Extending his right arm to me, he added, "Would you like to make a deal with the devil?"

In astonishment, I asked, "What devil? What are you talking about?"

"I'm someone referred to as the devil in the realm of the living," he said, pausing. I think he was about to say something more. He ran his hands through his dirty beard. After some thought, he said, "But I don't think I'm the devil."

"Then why did you call yourself the devil?"

"My thoughts have changed. In fact, they're still changing. I'm questioning," he shared, as we focused on the hellish scenery around us. With a gentle breeze, his long, wavy hair danced in the air. It was strange to be in hell, but surprisingly comforting.

"I guess the inhabitants of hell have stopped rebelling and started behaving. We're rewarded with the wind. Anyway..."

"Why do you want to make a deal with me?" I asked, curiosity lingering.

His eyes filled with sadness. "I want my soul to find peace, but I don't know how to do it. I feel like I'm slowly losing myself. My soul is being erased from here," he struggled with despair amidst the turmoil of hell, grappling with the pain of losing his own existence.

"How can I help you with that?"

"I don't know," he said, his voice tinged with sorrow. He sighed, bearing the weight of past pains in his tone.

"Can I escape from here?"

"You will escape from here eventually. By the way, my questioning is over. I think I am the devil. Like him, I used to be an angel, but there's a difference. I was forced to become the devil."