What did hell look like?
Kenji often pondered on what form his inferno would appear as.
He'd seen preachers on the street shaking their fists violently, claiming that hell was a burning landscape where you'd forever be ignited by your sins.
He had seen Buddhists speak of the multiple layers of hell, where you'd undergo a trial based on how badly you screwed up in life.
He had seen atheists spout that there is no such thing as 'hell', that you would simply cease to be no consciousness when you finally perish. This was just another form of hell in Kenji's mind, a hell of non-existence.
But here, in his own mind, Kenji's hell was a small house in a quiet Japanese neighborhood.
Kenji's eyes snapped open, a groggy sensation akin to exhaustion echoed across his body. He struggled to get up, his hands quivering under his own weight.
"Where... am I?" He couldn't help but utter out loud. His gaze was blurry, yet he could make out a shape in the corner of his eyes.
As his vision slowly returned, a painful pang of familiarity struck him. These tiles, those windows, that wall...
That bottle of beer rolling his way.
Kenji recognized it and recoiled, stumbling back and crawling away — his heart beat incessantly in his chest. Yet he stopped moving the moment he saw it, a faint clear wall akin to glass separating him from the outside.
He grit his teeth. That must be the containment field, he echoed Erhardt's words in his mind, again and again.
'Do not leave the containment field. Do not leave the containment field. Do not leave the—'
"Boy..."
Kenji froze, his heart stopped for just a moment. He gazed up, his eyes locking in with the tall figure of a man. His features were obscured by shadow, but he could see a haggard, dirty, and disgusting face reflected in those abyssal eyes that mirrored his own.
"D-Dad..." Kenji couldn't help but utter.
"Where the hell have you been..." the caricature of his father called out. "Off playing again and again outside, running from your studies you useless spoiled brat—"
Kenji trembled in his containment field, "N-No..."
"Huh!?" The father screamed.
His voice more beastial than man. The haggard drunken beast cracked its spine, growing nearly twice his height. He transformed into a thing of nightmares right before Kenji's eyes. His belly bloated, his skin falling off, his haggard face graying and sagging.
A large bloated and drunken pustule-ridden thing. A disgusting caricature of his father's greed, sloth, and wrath rolled into a caricature. He stared back down at Kenji, slobbering beer running down his face.
"The fuck did you say, you stupid brat!?" He raised the beer bottle in his hand up high, and Kenji looked away and tucked himself into a cradle.
'He's not real. He's not real. He's not real. He's not real.' He repeated in his mind like a mantra.
He struck at the containment field — crack, it seemed to echo.
"Come out, you spoiled little shit. Be a good boy for once and come out!"
It struck the barrier. Again. And again. And again. It seemed to crack, to break, to shatter. But Kenji used Erhardt's words as a mantra. Do not ever leave the containment field.
'You're not real. You're not real. You're not real.' He looked away, stuffing his ears with his hands to try and stop himself from hearing or seeing this... thing.
Yet as he stared away, he saw it. In his general periphery, a lone black cat staring back at him. Its eerie wide-grin seemed lifeless, especially in this dreary background. Its hollow void-like eyes reflecting his own pain and misery. Kenji felt his mouth open, and the desire to call out to it surged.
But what words could he say? Nothing seemed to escape his lungs. The cat stared, stood, then walked away.
"Wait!" Kenji yelled out. "Come back—"
'Don't leave me alone...' Kenji grit his teeth.
But just as Kenji was about to stuff his hands deeper into his ears, another voice cut out. A loud yell echoed, and a woman appeared in-between Kenji and his father.
"Stop it!" She yelled, her own body trembling.
"M-Mom... no... no, mom..." He looked up at his father with horror in his eyes — his fear shifting to rage and hopelessness. He knew what came next, he needed to stop it. "Mom... Mom, please—"
"Leave! I'm... I'm strong now, I— I can protect you so please step back!" Kenji yelled.
"You..." The bloated monstrosity called out. "Arrogant little bitch, who do you think you are!?"
"Mom! Mom, please step away!" Kenji all but screamed, but it was no use.
SLAP!
A bloated hand struck phantom skin, and the woman trembled. She shook, choking on her own fear. Trembling even as she stepped in-between. Kenji grit his teeth, nearly rushing in except.
'This isn't real... just... stop it, this isn't real...' He grit his teeth.
He could hear it, the shrieks, the grunts of pain, the echoing bruises. It never stopped, it never ended, he never left his old home. He trembled in his spot, clutching his own legs, fighting the tears that dared threaten to step out.
Kenji closed his eyes, stuffed his hands onto his ears, and like the coward he was, desperately prayed for it to just go away.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Splash.
The sound pulled him from the dark. Cold. Wet.
Kenji felt rain against his skin — a soft drizzle seeping into his clothes like needles of memory. He blinked up at the sky, a dull gray haze reflecting on puddled asphalt. The street stretched before him, half-familiar, half-forgotten, warped by shadows and silence.
'Where am I?'
The thought came weakly — but another, sharper voice intruded, not his own.
[ "You know where you are." ]
It stabbed through his skull like a whisper too loud. He clenched his teeth, trying to shove the thought away. The world flickered, static crawling along the edges of his vision.
Then he saw it — the black cat.
It sat beside him, untouched by rain, fur sleek as oil. Its eyes were pits of endless dark, its grin stretched and unnatural. It didn't move, didn't blink.
"What are you—"
[ "You know where you are." ]
The voice burrowed deeper. Over and over. Like a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
[ "You know where you are." ]
[ "FAILURE. WEAKLING. LOSER." ]
[ "You know where you are." ]
[ "UNWORTHY. BETRAYAL. FOOL." ]
[ "You know where you are." ]
[ "BURDEN. BURDEN. BURDEN." ]
[ "You know where you are." ]
[ "UNLOVED. UNLOVEABLE. HATED BY ALL." ]
[ "You know where you are." ]
[ "LOOK. LOOK. LOOK. LOOK." ]
[ "You know where you are." ]
Kenji clutched his head, fingers digging into his scalp as if he could claw the words out. But they didn't stop. They burned themselves into his mind like branding iron.
Until only one remained.
[ "LOOK. LOOK. LOOK. LOOK." ]
He shouldn't have looked. He knew he shouldn't.
But his eyes betrayed him.
Through the glitching veil of rain, he saw it — a scene he'd buried deep within himself. A small boy struggling against his older brother's arms, reaching out as a woman walked away down the street.
"Stop…" Kenji's voice cracked. His jaw trembled.
The boy screamed her name — a sound he remembered all too well.
"Stop… please…"
The world rippled, the rain distorting into streaks of static.
"Don't show me this again," he growled. "Don't — show me this again!"
But his mind didn't listen.
He dropped to his knees, forehead pressing to the cold concrete. The rain pooled around him, washing over his reflection — red eyes dim with grief and fury.
He wanted to scream. To run. To change it.
But all he could do was kneel there, praying for the vision to end.
The vision wouldn't stop. It wouldn't end.
The rain kept falling, soft but endless — and the black cat just sat there, unblinking. Its hollow eyes fixed on the retreating figure of the woman, her form slowly dissolving into the horizon, never to be seen again.
Kenji's heart pounded in his throat. The static in his skull screamed louder. Thoughts — not his own — began clawing their way into his mind.
[ "LOOK. COWARD. LOOK. COWARD. LOOK. COWARD. LOOK. COWARD." ]
The words grew rhythmic, mechanical, a drumbeat of accusation. Kenji's neck twitched as something unseen forced his gaze upward.
He didn't want to look, but he couldn't stop looking.
The figure ahead began to distort — the mother's outline twisting, breaking apart into a shape that wasn't hers. First, it became a boy — one that looked like him, only older, colder, standing tall and silent. Then the boy flickered, replaced by a man in a dark suit walking away without a single glance back.
Kenji's breathing hitched. The faces bled together — mother, brother, caretaker — all leaving him, all walking away into the endless rain.
Leaving him because he was nothing.
[ "BURDEN. DEAD-WEIGHT. USELESS. LEECH." ]
[ "YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS." ]
The words carved themselves into his mind, deeper with every echo. Each repetition felt like nails hammered into his skull, each syllable dripping venom.
Kenji clutched his head, shaking violently. The rain, the static, the guilt — all of it tangled into a single suffocating truth.
They weren't accusing him, they were reminding him.
Erhardt's warnings faded, dissolving like whispers in static. Kenji's mantra — once his anchor — warped and tangled into incoherent noise. The thoughts bleeding through his skull no longer sounded foreign. They sounded familiar.
[ "GO AFTER HER. SAVE HER. DON'T LET HER RUN." ]
[ "PROTECT HER. LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE." ]
[ "BEND. BEND. BEND UNTIL YOU SNAP." ]
The voices layered, overlapping, gnawing at what little reason he had left.
Kenji's hands trembled. His chest ached. The air itself seemed to twist, urging him forward — commanding him.
And then, he ran.
The moment his foot crossed the containment field, the world screamed. A surge of static burst through his body — his vision fracturing into shards of color and shadow.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was suicide.
But he couldn't stop himself.
The pain, the guilt, the memory — all of it blurred into one impossible truth:
if he didn't move, if he didn't try, he'd lose her again.
He'd lose all of them.
So he ran. He dashed and ran even as his mind felt the pressure. He ran, not toward safety, but straight into the heart of the nightmare.
The world around him glitched, flickering like static on a television. His mind wracked, and a splitting pain ached his head. Yet still, he ran. He ran, and ran, as if he would lose something precious if he stopped. He ran even as his immaterial legs felt as if they'd bend under its own force.
'Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.' Kenji snapped at himself, a self-derisive tone. 'Why? Why couldn't you just leave this be?'
Yet no matter how hard he ran, no matter how fast he went, he could never reach her. Her form grew fainter and fainter, and yet still he desperately ran after her.
Something caught his ankle. Kenji fell, slamming onto the makeshift phantom ground with a thud. His body ached, and he looked down to see a familiar tendril wrapped around his ankles.
The black cat followed him, its stride calm and slow — stopping only when it was in front of Kenji's own red eyes.
The two stared at one another.
[ "You can't be fixed." ]
It declared.
[ "We can't be fixed." ]
[ "Naive. Reckless. Foolish. Stupid. Impulsive. Useless. Idiot. Broken. Broken. Broken. Broken." ]
The world glitched, and the cat was replaced by a familiar figure. Black hair, black eyes, cat ears atop its head. His face was shrouded in a blackened void, his smile a familiar canyon of hollow feeling. Kenji grit his teeth, and his orange eye began to flicker.
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[WARNING. WARNING. WARN—ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.]
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[ "Neat trick, Corswain." ]
The thoughts invaded his mind. A black tendril grew from the void, and stabbed into the very world. His head ached, splitting into a thousand incongruent and chaotic thoughts. Images of lives he's never lived, worlds he's never seen, people he's never met. A hivemind of thoughts he could not dare grasp, his form glitching and mutating under the pressure.
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[WARNING. ONTOLOGICAL FORM BREACHED]
[CONDUCTING SUPPRESSION PROTOCO—ERROR. ERROR]
[UPDATED DIRECTIVE: DOWNLOADING]
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He felt it, like a virus in his soul. This thing was implanting something deep into his very being. Adding, removing, replacing things in his own soul.
[ "Let's work together, Ken-chan." ]
The world turned black.
**********
Kenji's eyes fluttered open to the sight of a light shining down his irises. A drone flew overhead, holding his eye open as it scanned. An automated voice played over the speakers.
"Subject Vitals Stable."
Releasing its grip, the drone flew back up. The boy blinked, and with a groan, sat up with great effort. He was still in his now-dry Coffin pod. The other participants were similarly groggy, waking up from their own psychic attunements, or in his case, psychic assessment.
"What... the hell... was that..." Aiden blanched. The visions Kenji had seen, the rest had done the same. Reliving the most prominent memories of their minds, being trapped in a space where they were a prisoner to their own thoughts, fears, daydreams.
"Send me back..." Ryon uttered. "I want to go back."
Apparently, not everyone's visions were as horrifying as his.
"That I cannot do, Ronald." Erhardt chimed in, stepping back down. "What you saw up there is mere illusion, they weren't real."
"They were real to me..." Ryon grit her teeth. "I finally dreamed something good today. Don't take that away from me—"
"Illusions. Ron." Erhardt corrected. "Shroud Space Morphing into something ideal in an attempt to get you to leave. Luckily, it appears no one left their Containment Fields. Lest we be left cleaning a mutated corpse by now."
The group shuddered, looking at one another.
Kenji grit his teeth. He had left, and they couldn't tell? So they couldn't see what went on in their minds? What stopped him from losing his mind, then? Or mutating into something horrific?
"Now then," Erhardt began, clasping his hands behind his back as he paced the platform, "it will take anywhere from a few hours to a full day for your psychic attunement to stabilize — and for your abilities to properly manifest."
Aiden raised his hand, looking equal parts dazed and curious. Erhardt pointed toward him with theatrical flair.
"Yes, yes, the curly-haired one! Speak!"
Aiden blinked. "Uh… how do we know what our abilities are? Or, uh… psychic gifts — whatever they're called?"
Erhardt's grin widened.
"Simple! You'll all see a system pop up!"
Silence.
The group exchanged glances.
'System?'
Kenji's brow twitched. He was more confused than the rest — not because of the word itself, but because Corswain had used the same terminology.
'What is it with these maniacs being obsessed with systems?'
Erhardt clapped his hands once, as if expecting applause.
"Yes! A system! You've seen those silly manhwa and anime, right? With glowing status windows and dramatic leveling-up sequences?"
He paused for effect, then wagged a finger.
"Of course, we'd never do anything as dire as projecting it in front of your eyes. Imagine getting sniped because you were too busy reading your stats!"
A small, awkward chuckle rippled through the group.
"No, no," Erhardt continued, tone dropping into something almost reverent, "the information will be integrated directly into your minds. You'll know your gifts, their conditions, and — if you're lucky — how not to explode when using them."
He stopped pacing, turning sharply to face them, eyes glinting with manic pride.
"You'll feel it soon enough. A whisper in your head, a spark in your blood… and then — click! You're attuned."
"Make sure to come over as soon as you receive the notification in your mind. Trust me, you'll know when it happens." His gaze then shifted to Kenji. "You're all free to leave, but Kendo, stay."
He turned and began to walk off. "We have a few things I'd like to discuss."
Kenji gulped, so they did see that, after all.
'Or maybe I'm just being paranoid...'