Aren looked around in a daze. Panic surged as he faced the massive figure seated before him.
"W-what is this place? Who are you? Where am I?"
His hands flew to his face, and he froze. The flesh that had been pulped and ruined by Archer's punches was now smooth perfectly healed. Fear fought with confusion as he looked back at the giant.
"Tell me... am I dead? Is this heaven?"
Varkas's patience snapped. "Quiet!" The word hit like a physical blow. The palace walls groaned, and the floor beneath Aren trembled violently. The air grew heavy, pinning the breath in Aren's throat.
"Now," the man said, his voice deep and sharp as a blade. "I will ask the questions. Who are you, and how did you find your way into my domain?"
His tone held a flicker of genuine curiosity, as if Aren's presence was a riddle he couldn't quite solve.
Trembling, Aren recounted everything: the beating, and the final plunge into the dark fissure. As the story unfolded, the giant's imposing posture slumped slightly, his expression souring into disappointment.
"So that is it… it seems you, too, are now a prisoner of this void."
"Prisoner?" Aren gasped. "What do you mean?"
"You asked who I am and what this place is, did you not?" The man let out a long, weary sigh, his voice regaining its authoritative edge. "I am the God of Strength Varkas Ironwill."
Aren felt the world tilt. A God? he thought, his mind racing. I've heard of the Goddess of Light, the God of War... but Varkas?
Varkas ignored Aren's internal crisis. "As for this place, it is a Prison Realm."
"A Prison Realm?" Aren repeated blankly.
Varkas's eyes flashed with irritation. "Do not tell me the world has forgotten the basics. A Prison Realm is a soul-bind a cage designed to hold an immortal spirit for eternity."
The realization hit Aren like a physical weight. If he was here, he wasn't just dead; he was erased. He was trapped in a box outside of time. He lowered his head, a single tear splashing onto the cold floor.
"Perhaps when you fell into that fissure, your soul slipped through a crack in the seal," Varkas mused. "But the 'how' matters less than the 'why.' Why you?"
At that, Aren's grief turned into a sharp, jagged anger. "Why…?" he whispered. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "Why has it always been me? Since I was a child, I've been the dirt beneath everyone's boots."
The dam finally broke. Years of suppressed humiliation poured out.
"They mocked me because I was weak! Because I had no name! And when I failed the Awakening... when I became a 'Null'... they treated me like a stray insect to be crushed. Don't I have a right to exist? Do I not deserve to live just because I don't have power?"
He was panting, his chest heaving with the effort of his outburst. Varkas stared at him, his gaze unreadable and mountain-heavy.
"The world has changed much since my sunlight was stolen," Varkas said quietly. He stood up, towering over Aren like an ancient monolith. "Tell me this, boy: if you were given a chance to crawl out of this hole, what would you do?"
Aren went silent. He looked at his healed hands, then back at the God. "I would prove them wrong," he said, his voice low but steady. "I don't want to rule. I just want to show them that I have the right to be happy."
"You do not crave their blood? You do not seek revenge?"
Aren met the God's gaze with sudden, startling confidence. "No. I want their acknowledgment. I want them to have to look me in the eye and admit they were wrong."
Varkas's lips curled into a faint, grim smile. "A noble burden. Very well. If that is your path, then listen. There is a way back."
Are straightened, his heart leaping. "How?"
"I will lend you my strength. By anchoring a portion of my essence to your soul, I will create a localized imbalance. This realm was built to hold me it will not know how to react to a split presence. There is a chance... a slim one... that the recoil will cast you back to your world."
"You're choosing me as your vessel?" Aren asked, recognizing the term from the news.
Varkas tilted his head. "Vessel?"
"On Earth, the Gods have chosen champions," Aren explained. "They are called Vessels. They represent the Divine in our world."
Varkas's expression darkened into a scowl. "Those selfish cowards are meddling with mortals again? Typical." He shook his head. "We have no time for politics. Give me your hand."
Aren reached out. As their skin met, Varkas closed his eyes and began a low, guttural chant that made the very air hum. The palace began to groan as if the foundations were being ripped apart.
Varkas's eyes snapped open, glowing a fierce, terrifying crimson. "I, Varkas, God of Strength, grant Aren ten percent of my eternal might!"
A swirl of violent red energy exploded around them. Aren felt as if liquid lead was being poured into his veins. His vision turned red, his muscles screamed, and then silence.
Varkas released him, looking slightly diminished. "It is done. You are my vessel now. The realm is already destabilizing."
Aren looked at his hands, which were now sparking with faint red embers. "Why? Why help a stranger like me?"
"Because I am tired of this silence," Varkas said, his voice turning somber. "I help you so that one day, you may return the favor. I am bound by a condition: I can only be freed when someone wielding my power defeats the strongest being in your world."
Aren's blood ran cold. "The strongest? You mean... me? I have to face a being like that?"
Varkas laughed, a sound like grinding stones. "With my power, boy, their strength will melt like wax before a flame. Do not fear."
Suddenly, a violent tug pulled at Aren's navel. The world began to blur and stretch.
"The exit is opening," Varkas shouted over the rising roar of the void. "Remember, Aren defeat the strongest!"
As the darkness began to swallow him, Aren cried out one last time, "Who did this to you? Who imprisoned a God?"
Varkas stood tall as the palace crumbled around him. "You will find out," he replied, his voice echoing from a great distance. "When you are strong enough to hear the name."
The world vanished, and Aren was dragged back into the cold, screaming dark.