Ding Dong!
The toll of the bell came again. That was the sixth time, and with each toll, Savin was drawn closer to the edge of his sanity. He stumbled into an alley, leaning against the rough metal wall as he tried to steady his breath and the seams of his mind came apart. A sharp pulse went through his head, making it harder to think.
He could see an image—a face of someone he didn't recognize. But they were crying, and for some reason, it unsettled him.
'To hell with this.'
Minutes ago, he had stood in Randall's store, confident, certain that none of this would happen. He had only rung the bell twice. Twice. That shouldn't have been enough to...
'Why? Why? Why? Why is this happening to me?'
The evening sun dipped below the horizon, washing the city in molten gold. The colors bled across the sky, warm and radiant, as though the heavens themselves celebrated the close of another day. To anyone else, it would have been beautiful—a fleeting masterpiece.
But to Savin, it was mockery. A cruel, silent taunt.
Following the sun's path was another sun—but it wasn't. A planet, vast and ominous, hung in the sky with nothing to veil its presence. No clouds, no mist, nothing to soften the weight of its silent watch.
Tonight, the light of the world seemed to narrow in on Savin, as if he were standing beneath some grand spotlight. It was a feeling he couldn't shake, like unseen eyes had locked onto him, stripping away every illusion of safety.
And in the depths of his mind, he was almost certain a voice whispered…
Got you.
Ding Dong!
The seventh bell.
Savin slowly crumbled to the ground and stared at it again.
'This is cruel, too cruel.'
His thoughts instantly went to his sister, Robin, lying in her sick bed, her pale face a constant reminder of the pain she was enduring. Ms. Lundy stayed by her side, caring for her when he couldn't.
Ding Dong!
He could feel the tolling of the bell deep in his bones this time, a steady, haunting sound growing louder with each passing moment.
If he heard the final toll, the Bell of Transcendence that he had left with Randall would disappear, vanishing as if it had never existed. Without the Bell, there would be no money, no chance to afford the care and comfort Robin desperately needed. And without money, there would be no soft bed for her. He had just dreamed of living the best life with her but now, it felt like the very ground was slipping from beneath him, and he was powerless to stop it.
'Damn it!'
***
The Bells of Transcendence were first discovered six millennia ago, bringing with them the beginning of an age known as the Era of the Fall. But contrary to the stories that would later be told, it wasn't an era of enlightenment or ascension—it was an age that fell deep into death and darkness.
One fateful day, a new planet appeared, seemingly from nowhere. It wasn't heralded by any celestial event or prophecy; it simply emerged, as though the laws of reality had bent to allow it. Along with this mysterious appearance, rifts began to tear open in the fabric of space, leaking horrors that the world was unprepared for. From these rifts came monstrous entities, creatures that defied every law of nature, their forms beyond comprehension. They were born not of this world, but from a place far darker and far more twisted than anything humanity had ever conceived. It was a land where even nightmares dared not tread—a place that would come to be known as the Nether World.
The monsters that poured through the rifts were unlike any beasts humanity had ever known. Their forms twisted and changed with every glance, shifting as if they were born from the very essence of chaos. They slaughtered, desecrated, and brought ruin to every city, every kingdom they encountered. Destruction spread like wildfire, leaving the land as nothing more than a charred, empty husk. Humanity was unprepared. The Bells of Transcendence had foretold this calamity, but no one had truly understood the cost of their power until it was too late.
But later on, the true meaning behind the Bells of Transcendence came to light. They weren't Bells telling of the end, or calling people to prepare for their final days. Rather, they were Bells that spoke of hope for humankind.
Hope. That was a very powerful word. So powerful that it could ignite revolutions, inspire unthinkable sacrifices, and even bring people back from the brink of annihilation. It was the force that made men and women rise up in the face of insurmountable odds, made them believe that there was something worth fighting for, something worth living for, no matter how dark the world became.
And so, with each toll of the Bell, a new hero arose.
The ones who sought that one thing that kept humanity's hope alive. The ones who sought humanity's freedom and safety. The ones who would later come to be known as Seekers.
These Seekers came from every corner of the earth. Some were once ordinary men and women, now transformed by the Bells' calling. Some were driven by personal loss, others by a simple, undeniable conviction that they could make a difference. But all shared one thing in common—each was willing to sacrifice everything for a future they might never see.
At least, that was the propaganda.
The Nether World had been a subject of fascination and intrigue for centuries, even though more than six thousand years had passed since its arrival. The mysteries of that world never ceased to captivate, despite the countless expeditions that of Seekers had ventured into its depths. Each attempt had led only to a fraction of understanding, leaving most of the Nether World unexplored and untouched, a vast unknown that teased and taunted the imagination. According to various scientific studies, the Nether World was enormous, so colossal that it could not simply be described in the usual terms. It was at least seventeen times the size of Earth in diameter, making it by far the largest celestial body in the solar system. A behemoth that loomed over everything else. And yet, unlike the other planets that followed predictable, steady orbits, the Nether World was different—it didn't adhere to any fixed pattern. It appeared in random points across the vastness of space, its immense form always visible, impossible to ignore, whether it hovered in the dark, starless night or in the pale light of the day. It was as though it was always there, like the watchful gaze of an enormous, unseen figure, always watching, always present.
Countless expeditions were launched from Earth, all aimed at reaching the Nether World, each designed to aid the Seekers in their quest to uncover its secrets. But the strange part—the part that had baffled everyone—was that none of the teams ever succeeded. Official reports claimed failure, citing the inability to reach their destination. The longest of these expeditions lasted over ten months, a grueling journey across the stars, but despite their best efforts, there was still no sign that they were getting closer to the Nether World. It was almost as if the world itself was deliberately moving away from them. Yet, there was something even stranger—no matter how much time passed, no matter how much distance the expeditions covered, the Nether World's calculated position relative to Earth remained unchanged. It was always there, always present, but the way it behaved defied all logic. In a universe governed by laws of physics and mathematics, the Nether World simply refused to obey.
In the end, the only ones granted entry into this strange, otherworldly domain and could brave its horrors were the Seekers, those chosen and empowered by the Bells of Transcendence. They alone were granted access, bestowed with abilities beyond mortal comprehension, their powers derived from a force no one fully understood.
Whenever a person happened upon a Bell of Transcendence, it was said their fate was sealed, their story already written in stone. Once chosen by a Bell, only they could summon its clapper, the only means of ringing it. After six tolls, they would begin to hear the bell's ringing, and after the eleventh, they would be renewed. However, only a small percentage of those who found the Bells ever rang them. After all, who would want to leave the comfort of home for a strange world filled with monsters and danger lurking at every corner?
Many chose to sell their Bells to those who could afford them, and for the rich, it became a hobby—claiming the fates of others as if they were mere trinkets. Some of the chosen, however, discarded their Bells of Transcendence, unwilling to have anything to do with the Nether World. But as always, fate played its hand in mysterious ways, and the consequences of such decisions rarely went unnoticed.
The Era of the Fall was not the end of their troubles.
Beyond the quest to uncover the secrets of the Nether World, there were times when the world itself would feel the strain. The Nether World's connection to Earth would suddenly flare back to life, and its monstrous inhabitants would once again flood into the world, bringing with them chaos and destruction.
***
Savin sat slumped in the alley, groaning, his breath ragged as he fought to suppress the scream clawing at his throat. Pain surged through his body like an unrelenting fire, burning him from the inside out as his very being warped and reshaped itself to the Bell's tolling. This agony would last until the eleventh and final toll, an ordeal with no escape.
It was a torment beyond anything he could have imagined—so intense it threatened to drive him mad. Madness. That was what he feared most. The pain, though it engulfed every inch of him, seemed to concentrate in one place, hammering relentlessly against his skull. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. His nails dug into his scalp as he thrashed against the agony, his body twisting and convulsing under its weight. Each passing second only made it worse, a slow descent into suffering with no relief in sight.
Even through the haze of his torment, Savin tried to imagine someone else experiencing the pain he was feeling at the moment. It was impossible to come up with an image as he couldn't see himself wishing this on anyone. Not even his worst enemies. No one deserved this. No matter what they had done to him, this was simply too much.
Ding Dong!
The ninth bell rang, and the pain surged—doubled, no, tripled… or was it quadrupled?
"Argh!"
Warm blood filled his mouth, thick and metallic, spilling onto the damp ground as he spat it out. His skin pulsed violently, a sensation like piloerection but far more unnatural, as if something rippled through him from the inside out. The tiny bumps vanished as quickly as they came, a fleeting wave of change surging beneath his flesh.
Then the pain reached his eyes.
"Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhhhhh!!!"
He screamed—or at least, he thought he did. He couldn't tell anymore. No vibration from his throat, no sensation of fabric against his skin. Nothing. He saw nothing, felt nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing, tasted nothing. Every sense had been stripped away, leaving only pain.
His hands tore away from his scalp, reaching instinctively for his eyes—only to grasp at empty air. They were still there… weren't they? It felt as if they had been ripped from his skull and plunged into boiling oil, their nerves still attached just so he could feel every agonizing second of it. This wasn't pain. This was something beyond that—pure, unfiltered torment. His eyes turn white and looked almost lifeless.
And still, even with the rising pain and suffering of this young man, the tenth bell had yet to come.
Was this what others who received Bells of Transcendence endured? No. No, it wasn't. Something was wrong. And now, through the unbearable suffering, one thought refused to leave him.
Why?
Was this punishment for trying to get rid of his Bell? If so, why not let a Rift open nearby and let the monsters tear him apart? Why this? Why a suffering worse than death? He could feel it—his body reaching its limit, his mind unraveling, yet somehow… he endured. He had been writhing in this alley for over half an hour, drowning in endless, ever-intensifying agony. He should be dead. He should be mad.
And then, the tenth bell tolled.
Savin collapsed, his body folding in on itself as if bracing for the inevitable. This time, he was sure of it. He was going to die. No will, no strength, no sheer force of mind could withstand this. And the eleventh bell… he didn't even want to imagine it.
So why keep fighting?
His mind slipped further, unraveling at the seams, and soon, there was nothing left but a world of pain.
***
A bell rang.
A single, sharp ding cut through the silence, too light to be a warning, too sudden to be a mere call. It echoed, stretching thin in the cold air, its sound lingering like a whisper left unfinished.
Then, another. Dong. Heavier this time, drawn out, like the weight of something unseen pressing against the world. It pulsed in the bones, rattled in the ribs.
The eleventh strike came slowly. Toll. A sound like the closing of a door, like the final breath of something long forgotten.
Somewhere beyond the fog, footsteps halted.
Somewhere in the distance, the wind stilled.
Somewhere in the dark, a smile formed.
And somewhere unseen, something listened.