Dancing on the golden ashes

The skeleton rose to its feet, its towering form casting a long, menacing shadow over me. Only now, with it fully upright, did I grasp its sheer size—it stood at least four meters tall, easily dwarfing me. Its immense presence was overwhelming, a grotesque monument of death and power.

As it moved, the sound of ancient, brittle bones cracking and grinding against one another echoed through the hall, each snap and creak amplified in the oppressive silence. The sound was unsettling, sending a faint shiver down my spine.

But fear didn't grip me. No, it wasn't terror that made me shudder—it was the aura surrounding it. A bone-chilling wave of energy radiated from the creature, seeping into the air and through my skin. It was unexplainable, like a coldness that didn't merely touch the body but gripped the very soul. My breath fogged in the freezing atmosphere, though I couldn't pinpoint the source of this unnatural chill.

"Child… You…" the skeleton rasped, its voice heavy with age and weight. "You too are a child of death… The one I have waited for, for so long…"
Your next journey awaits at empire

Its hollow eye sockets ignited with an eerie blue glow, the light flickering like a dying flame as it gazed at me. The sensation was unnerving, as though it were peeling back every layer of my being, scanning me down to my very essence. But its scrutiny faltered. The glow dimmed slightly, and the intensity waned the moment it fully stood upright.

I held my ground, refusing to flinch. My scythe materialized in my hand, the familiar weight steadying me. I pointed it toward the towering figure, my voice unwavering. "Who are you, and why the hell did you drag me into this realm?"

The freezing aura surrounding us thickened, biting into my skin. Each passing second felt colder, more suffocating. Yet, the skeleton did not answer. It simply stood there, its glowing sockets locked on me, as if trying to unravel a truth only it could see.

"Hey, are you Death? Or are you just blind?" I waved a hand in front of its glowing eye sockets, narrowing my eyes as I took a cautious step closer. "Hey, I'm talking to you, Mister Skeleton. Hope you're not planning to keep me here forever. I've got a lot on my plate, and you're not on the menu."

A low growl escaped its bony jaw, the sound guttural and ominous. Its teeth began to grind together, crackling faintly. Then, to my surprise, it started to laugh—a deep, hollow, echoing laugh that bounced off the gothic walls of the hall.

"What's so funny?!" I snapped, my patience evaporating. Anger flared as I tightened my grip on the scythe. How dare this skeleton—this walking pile of ancient bones—mock me? It wasn't even fully alive! The audacity of it… Bastard.

"Revenge… so full of revenge," the skeleton hissed, its voice reverberating with dark amusement. "That heart of yours is perfect for my skills."

It extended a long, bony finger toward me, and an invisible force seized my body. I couldn't move. It was as if every ounce of my power, my very will, had been stripped away, leaving me helpless.

Then I felt it—a cold, lifeless touch pressing against my forehead. The instant its bone finger made contact, a piercing sensation shot through me. My soul was ripped from my body, as if an unstoppable force had latched onto it, pulling it free with undeniable authority.

Darkness consumed me for what felt like an eternity, and then, in a flash, the temperature plummeted. I was no longer in the hall. The air was frigid, sharp enough to burn my lungs with every breath. Slowly, I opened my eyes.

Everything around me gleamed in radiant silver. The ground, the sky, even the faint mist swirling through the air shimmered with an unnatural metallic brilliance. The cold was unlike anything I had ever felt, biting not just at my skin but at my very soul.

Before me stood a towering city wall, its stone surface weathered yet imposing. A massive wooden gate loomed ahead, creaking open as if to welcome me inside. The sight sent a shiver down my spine. Something about the invitation felt… wrong.

Despite my unease, my body moved on its own. My foot lifted, then another step forward, as though an unseen force was pulling my strings. I struggled to regain control, willing my body to stop, to resist, but it was useless. My legs carried me through the gates with unnatural speed, my will utterly ignored.

The moment I stepped inside, an oppressive silence greeted me. The air felt heavy, suffocating in its stillness. There was no sound of life—no footsteps, no murmurs, not even the distant hum of activity. It was as though the city had been abandoned long ago.

A wide street stretched before me, its cobblestones gleaming faintly under an unseen light. On either side, tall wooden houses stood in perfect, eerie alignment. Their construction was flawless, almost too flawless, as if frozen in time. Despite their pristine condition, an unsettling energy hung in the air, a quiet whisper of something unnatural.

I moved slowly, my steps echoing through the empty streets as I passed by one identical row of houses after another. Then, as I turned a corner, my eyes locked onto it—a massive black citadel looming in the distance. Its gothic spires reached into the heavens, casting long, jagged shadows across the empty city. The sight of it was both awe-inspiring and foreboding, like something out of a twisted dream.

A shiver ran down my spine as I approached the massive door of the citadel. Without warning, it creaked open, the sound echoing through the stillness like a herald of something ominous. Beyond the threshold, the grand hall unfolded before me.

At the far end of the room, a tall man stood by the throne, his back turned to me. His presence was commanding, his figure cloaked in shadows that seemed to ripple unnaturally. Surrounding him, countless illusory figures lined the hall in two perfectly aligned rows. Their translucent forms shimmered faintly, their heads bowed low in unison as if in reverence… to me.

What the hell is going on here? My thoughts spiraled as the surreal scene unfolded. The weight of the silence pressed against me, the only sound my own breathing. I felt like I had been dragged into some kind of twisted fantasy movie—a dream, a nightmare, or maybe something worse.

"Welcome…" The voice that greeted me was old yet brimming with energy, a strange blend of wisdom and vitality. "I am very pleased to meet you, Lee Gaon. You are truly as dark as I hoped. Your soul is already beginning to adapt to my ways… and I am searching for an inheritor."

Hell no. I don't want anything to do with this. The words screamed in my head, but when I tried to speak, my mouth wouldn't move. It was as if it had been sealed shut, my protests trapped behind an invisible barrier.

"I am the Emperor of Death," the voice continued, calm but laced with power. "At least, that's what people used to call me."

The tall man turned around, his movements slow and deliberate, as if time itself bent to his will. His long silver hair danced in an unseen breeze, each strand shimmering faintly in the dim light. He was dressed entirely in black—sleek, elegant, and commanding. But what struck me the most wasn't his attire or his aura.

It was his face. Young, sharp, and disarmingly handsome. He looked nothing like the ancient figure his voice suggested. His appearance was a contradiction, and yet it made him all the more unsettling.

"I have waited here for over fifty thousand years," the Emperor of Death declared, his voice reverberating with a twisted blend of pride and longing. "All those who came before you lacked the one thing that truly matters—a touch of darkness. But you…" His glowing eyes seemed to pierce through me. "I can see your future. The power… the destruction… ahhh, it's so beautiful."

I had no idea what he was talking about. His words felt surreal, distant, like the echoes of a dream. Yet, in that moment, fear no longer held me. If power was what he offered—true, unimaginable power—then no matter the cost, I would take it.

"Good," he said, as though he could hear my thoughts. His voice carried a strange satisfaction. "A human turned demon, and now… the Death Empress. You are a catastrophe in the making. Or perhaps…" He paused, his tone softening as if lost in thought. "Perhaps that is what this world needs to be saved—from the forces that seek to destroy it."

His voice trailed off, and before I could respond, the world around me plunged into darkness. Every sensation vanished in an instant—no sound, no sight, no touch. I was suspended in an infinite void.

"This power comes with a price," his voice returned, disembodied, cold. "You shall endure a thousand years of unrelenting pain in this darkness. If you can remain conscious and resist insanity, the power I promise will make even the strongest tremble before you. For the rest of your life, the world will bow."

Then it began...

An excruciating fire tore through me, as if my body were being incinerated from the inside out. I screamed, but no sound came. The next moment, the fire vanished, replaced by an unbearable cold that froze me to my core. It was as though I was dying over and over again, every second dragging me closer to the edge of madness.

How much time had passed? A year? A day? Or none at all? I couldn't tell anymore. My mind swirled with despair, the relentless agony trying to tear me apart. Negative thoughts clawed at my resolve, urging me to give up, to succumb, to let it all end.

Why do I have to suffer like this? The question repeated endlessly in my mind, a cruel mantra. This torment wasn't just physical—it was mental, emotional, a torture designed to break every part of me. I wouldn't wish this fate on even my worst enemies.

But I couldn't give up. I wouldn't. Somewhere deep inside, a tiny ember of resolve burned, refusing to be extinguished. The thousand years of darkness and pain stretched before me, an endless nightmare. And yet, I braced myself.

If this is the price of power, I will pay it. I, Lee Gaon, shall become the strongest in this world!