Hellwalker.

-Before you woke, as every individual of your species, you went through a trial. You grew powerful in an endless battle in the depths of the umbral planes.

I initially thought a million years had passed from me dying and waking up as an exaggeration. Mainly because I felt I hadn’t breathed in that long. Because I hadn’t felt sunlight in that long. Because I hadn’t been relaxed in that long. I felt my life as distant.

Why such a precise amount of time? Why not a hundred years? I didn’t live that long on Earth, so why didn’t I think of fifty years? That was much more than I lived, anyway. Why a million, then? Why not another equally unfathomable number, like a thousand years?

It was not a figure of speech, I just found out. But the exact amount of time.

The vow I was pushed to make by my instincts left from Hell showed me I did my task of surviving, and then some. The time spent in Hell went through my mind in a second.

A million years of fighting to the death. A million years of eating demons. A million years of pain. A million years of insanity.

It began with a simple imp. I bashed its head with a rock, scared out of my mind. I had no clue what was going on. There was no higher entity to receive and guide me. Nothing. It was me and the demons. Naked and alone. There was no Satan, no icon of sin, no Princes of Hell. There were rulers, however. Hell is a prison. And there, the beings of the Abyss are chained. It’s understandable, then, that demons leave that place.

I quickly lost my mind. Hell is not a place conductive to sanity, it seems.

As fate would have it, Halves are born of highly concentrated E’er. My mind was remade. Healthy, working, better, faster. Unlike my Earth mind, which was mature and arguably old, the new one was fresh.

Why keep my memories, then? Why not start with a clean slate and begin from scratch? Why keep the knowledge that I died and lived such torment?

Apparently, I made a wish. To never forget. To be the strongest. And because I was, and still am, a degenerate, I wished to have a penis.

There was nothing to wish to in Hell. So, I wished to the universe. And it responded.

In the millionth year, in the last day, at the last hour. I was liberated.

…

Halve Species

The instincts of a Halve are surprisingly strong. I feel them inside me now that I verbalized my feelings. They push me to guard, protect, shield, and stand at the front. It’s not justice, but to seek peace through combat. Conflict is the way to earn it.

Nothing about killing Gods, splitting continents, bringing down moons or whatever, though. That’s all Hell.

That would force other Halves to intervene and I’ll end up dead like Holistos. Something I did not want.

I looked down at Alyssa. Our warm, naked bodies were still locked in the afterglow of ecstasy. Her smile was larger than life and grounded the thoughts. Relaxing, I focused on her rapid breathing and heartbeat. A long sigh left me and I kissed the woman. I laid back on the bed next to her and closed my eyes.

I’ll protect them with all I have, yes. But I won’t end life on Galeia. I’m not an uber simp.

I took a deep breath and dived into the unfiltered anger. It resembled the feelings from the dreams: primal, all-encompassing, devouring, unforgiving. It promised eternal torment to all without distinction.

There was a clash with my Halve instincts.

I opened my eyes and gently put Alyssa on top of me. Focusing on her entire existence, I took a deep breath while caressing the scales on her back.

Her red eyes looked into mine with adoration and boundless love. My heart was at peace, and I managed to fight the unnecessary thoughts while thinking of love, kindness, and acceptance.

For the moment, at least.

She took my face with both hands and kissed me. Her delicious lips and the feeling of her warm, sweaty, and voluptuous body slowly melted the remnants of that silly proclamation.

I looked to the side and saw Lapia wiping a tear away, a huge smile on her face. Yolin was similarly happy, and her blue eyes were glazed.

Beckoning them with a hand, they approached and we continued our session of intimacy as a team.

With Lapia, I thought of acceptance and how she grounded me when I was lost. Though it was fast for my own world-view, she provided me with emotional support.

When embracing Yolin, I reminded myself that the task to protect wasn’t solely mine to take on. She was a strong and tough woman that faced me as an equal with a wide smile.

I was not a naive little girl, nor a teenager with a skewed view of the world. I grew up bi in Russia.

***

When the suns rose, we had breakfast, showered, and made our way to the church. Yolin said that we should gather as much information about the monsters we’d face when clearing the dungeon. It was a sound argument, so we complied. Alyssa and Lapia didn’t fetch the Bhin since we could all move around on Sonya and Pochi. We picked up Bromisnar and Bonte on the way.

Once there, we moved to the library and I sat down at a table with a sketchbook in front of me. Lapia and Alyssa were researching monsters and whatnot. Yolin was reading a book. The men left to the yard where I fought the Oni, probably playing music, telling jokes, or doing research of their own.

I had other plans. I needed to fully face the anger inside me.

Taking a deep breath, I began sketching everything I had seen since arriving in Galeia while diving into myself.

I started with the forest I woke up in. The Cradle of Life. Drawing the tree trunks, the branches, and every leaf, I properly addressed my issues.

Step one. I am angry.

Adding small birds, critters, bugs, and animals, I went over the feeling and recognized it as it was.

Hell ended. I don’t need that much anger.

The roots were next on the drawing.

Anger is a tool, a very powerful one. It’s fuel, helps focus, and lets us know of what we care about. It’s an alarm that protects us. As such, it should not be aimed carelessly. We should always be in control of our anger. As mortal beings, we need it to survive, so it’s important for it to exist. True peace is an illusion. Nirvana is a lie. Enlightenment is a ruse.

I drew a bird sitting on a branch.

As long as entropy exists, so will emotions. All of them. Without exception, without limit. For us to face life in a satisfactory manner and properly work with others, we should connect with ourselves and recognize what’s inside us. Analyze, meditate, communicate.

A little squirrel with small antlers hugged a tree.

The nature of anger as a tool inherently leaves it at our disposal, at our hand, at our beck and call. It does not control unless we allow it to. As such, wisdom is necessary when dealing with our emotions.

I drew the turkey next.

The wisdom to recognize what is inside us, and what course of action is appropriate. We are not alone. We never will be. We never have been. As long as we can control ourselves, we can also keep others from controlling us.

I paid attention to the feathers and the magical glisten they had. That would forever be burned in my mind as the first time I saw anything that resembled magic.

With that set, step number two: I am in control.

I do not believe so, I know so. It is an irrefutable fact, otherwise I simply would not function. Like love, once you apply control, you never lose it. It thins and thickens, but it never goes away. Awareness is key.

Next, I drew the river.

To be aware, one needs to be calm. Reign in your emotions. Choose silence. Choose inaction. That is the first step to control yourself. Stop. Moving.

Adding the algae, fish, water bugs, and pebbles, I brought life to the river.

I continued and drew the bandits.

Anger is hot. Anger moves us. Angers is explosive. To conquer anger, stillness is required. Stillness calms us. Being calm allows us to look at our surroundings. This allows us to recognize what is going on. Through this recognition, we can begin the next step.

The bandit that I pierced first, his face, his fear, his anger. All were drawn on the piece of paper.

Compassion. Once we’ve experience loss of control, we can see it in others. This allows us to understand. Again, we are not alone. We are also not the same. We all want peace through different means. We will inevitably clash with others in the pursuit of happiness. This enriches us.

On the next page, I drew the first woman I killed.

We must not be fooled and forgive all. Understanding does not mean tolerance. Reality simply does not work like that. We are not meant to reach happiness with everyone. Nor should we seek it.

The man I beheaded was depicted on the following page.

Life is pain. As such, it befalls on us to choose if we suffer or not. Happiness and suffering are states of mind. Thus, their origins cannot be found outside the mind. We are the ultimate masters of our life. We must experience pain to live life to it’s fullest. This allows us to become a better version of ourselves. To grow as individuals, artists, sisters, daughters, mothers.

A head covered in blood and vomit was next. His frightened face, his lifeless eyes.

With this, we can function with others. Compassion. Recognition. Control. With this, we can embrace love and acceptance. First to ourselves, then to others.

The second woman’s expression of utter terror as she was about to die took place on the next page.

Death is as much a part of life as it is waking up. Realizing our mortality furthers our control of ourselves. We know our limits, our goals, our time.

I continued drawing for a few minutes while contemplating on my inner turmoil.

Lapia was next on my sketchbook. I drew her cheeky smile, the one she has on her face every time she says ‘I bet’. I drew Alyssa giggling, her smile showing her fangs. I drew Yolin smiling widely, her toothy smile with her tusks and fangs.

Then, I drew myself. First with an angry face, the lines on my eyes forming the X. After that, I drew myself smiling, enjoying life in this new world. I am loved. I have people who care about me. People who trust me. People who I trust in.

After I finished, I looked up and stared at the three women sitting across the table.

“So this is an Ur’en… disgusting.” Alyssa shook her head as she looked at a piece of paper.

I looked at the sheet and saw a fat worm drawn on it.

“It shoots acid out of its mouth.” the Oni replied with a chuckle. “I got cocky and lost an eye.”

“And they live in the last floor? That means they’re level eight hundred.” Lapia asked.

I looked around us and saw nobody else was in the library.

“I died once already.” I said.

The three slowly looked up at me.

“I lived a life in another world before going to Hell. Then, I woke up here.” I sighed.