I don't remember when I entered this place. I don't know how many days have passed, or how many nights my breath was cut short from the sheer intensity of pain. Even time itself seems to have abandoned me.
All I can remember... is pain. Nothing but pain.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I try to recall my name. My features. My voice. But nothing comes except the clanging of metal, the creaking of doors, and the moans of suffering. There were moments—between bleeding out and losing consciousness—when I'd see shadows moving around me. Thick hands, emotionless eyes, whispers that didn't sound like any human language.
The darkness here is dense... so dense that my eyes have grown tired of trying to see anything. The darkness surrounds me as if I were in the bowels of the earth, or a dead womb... or in a place never meant to be seen.
The first thing I became aware of was the cold. A cold that pierced my bones. Then came the pain. Then hunger... then fear.
I didn't know how I got here. The last thing I remember, I was in my room, reading a boring book about the dull life of a man who resembled me. My life was painfully ordinary. So ordinary that, in a moment of despair, I wished for something—anything—to break that stillness.
It seems my wish was granted.
But not in the way I imagined.
When I opened my eyes in this hell, my limbs were bound, my back pressed against a damp wall, and my nose bleeding from the stench of rot and blood. At first, there was no sound—just the tremble of my own breath. Then came the footsteps. Heavy, slow, deliberate.
Three men entered. No... not men. Their faces weren't human, and there was no mercy in their eyes. One carried a long metal rod, another a small box, and the third was smiling.
"He's finally awake," the third said, his voice like venom.
He came closer and grabbed my chin. I tried to spit in his face, but my mouth was too dry. His smile widened.
"These are going to be some fun days."
Then the torment began.
At first, I thought I would die. I hoped I would. They burned my skin slowly, sliced my fingers with blades, poured salt water into my wounds. They asked me questions I didn't understand:
"Where did you lose the seal?"
"What did you tell the prince before he died?"
"Who sent you?"
But I didn't know anything. I hadn't killed anyone, hadn't met any prince, wasn't a spy or a fighter. Just a failing university student in a grey city, dreaming of becoming a writer. A writer? What a joke.
I screamed. I begged. I cursed. I apologized for sins I didn't even know I'd committed.
But they kept going.
A week passed. Or more. Or less. I don't know.
They didn't let me sleep. Every time I began to drift off, pain woke me. If they didn't wake me, the nightmares did.
They came at times I couldn't predict. Sometimes daily. Sometimes no one came for three nights. Each time, they began again. New tools. New methods.
But I didn't die.
And I started to adapt.
That's what terrified me more—that I was getting used to the pain. That I was becoming a part of this place.
One night, they entered carrying a small cage. Inside was a rat, soaked in some strange liquid. I didn't understand. They strapped it to my chest. Then lit a fire behind it.
The rat shrieked. Lost its mind. Then it started to dig... into my body.
When I woke up, I was lying in a pool of my blood. My heart beat slowly. I couldn't scream. Only tears fell... and silence reigned.
Then I heard the voice for the first time.
A voice... not from outside.
But from within.
Quiet, yet clear.
"Keep going… don't stop feeling. This pain is what keeps you alive."
I screamed: "Who are you?!"
No answer.
But it didn't go away.
Since that moment, I kept hearing it. Every time I neared the edge, it whispered:
"Do you think you're the first? Do you think this is your end? No... it's only the beginning."
I thought I was going insane. But something in its tone… felt real.
Sometimes, I see images. A crying girl. A man calling my name. A child running toward me. A city consumed by fire. Things I don't remember, yet my heart responds to them.
The next night, the jailer came alone. But he was different. There was fear in his eyes. He came close and whispered:
"The king… the king is losing his mind. He believes you're the cause of a curse that's befallen his son."
A curse? What curse?
He continued: "You were supposed to inherit an ability from the prince. An ability he paid everything to obtain… but the guards never delivered it to you. It vanished."
Then he fell silent and left.
I couldn't sleep after that.
Something had changed.
It's as if the place itself began to whisper to me.
The king? A curse? A missing ability?
I feel like I'm inside a game… but I don't know the rules.
And the more I search, the deeper the darkness grows.
And now… I might finally understand why this place is called:
Deeper Than Hell.