"Oh...? A fresh soul," the stranger remarked with a hoarse voice. "What foul machinations did you perform in your life to end up here, I wonder?"
The man of withered skin looked at him with glossy, black eyes, picking himself up from the sand with an air of curiosity. One thing stood out more than anything, though, one of the man's eyes possessed an iris like that of a six-pointed star.
"Here? Where is "here", exactly?" Finn asked, staring at the peculiar individual.
There wasn't a single article of clothing worn by the hollow stranger besides the remnants of a dark coat, barely a scarf clinging to his body.
"You don't know? This is the place below the deepest layers of
Hell
, exclusive only for the most wicked, yes...The most sinful souls of our kind, yes," the hollow man explained with a decrepit grin.
"So, it really is Hell...I didn't want to be right on that one," Finn mumbled to himself.
As he took in the bit of information from the strange, malnourished man, he noticed that the stranger held a rather curious gaze on him while tilting his head. It was that same type of curiosity that resembled the insufferable madness akin to Raven or Crow; an intrigued predator.
"You though...You don't belong here, do you?" The strange man accused, stepping closer.
Finn held his ground, "What're you talking about?"
"Your skin still holds color. Your blood quivers, your heart thumps with anxiousness, and your soul still throbs with desperation," the withered man analyzed. "You're not dead."
The exact moment that last part rolled off the stranger's tongue, he could feel the animosity oozing from their body. Presented with a hostile presence, he opted to use Sleuth, though quickly met with odd feedback–
[N@M3: Jun-Seo]
The way the information about the hollow man before him was presented to him struck him as odd, bringing him to call his daggers to his hands without wasting a moment.
"What's your problem?" Finn asked.
While it seemed a breeze might've carried the hollow husk of a man away before, there seemed to be renewed vigor flowing through him as he held his hand up.
"This eternity beyond life, filled with nothingness, is a supreme punishment for the greatest sinners. It's not often an opportunity for entertainment happens upon my feet...Claiming the life of someone?" Jun-Seo remarked with his hoarse voice. "It's a gift–it must be."
Into the hand of the one damned beneath Hell, a sword crafted by intertwined bones crawled out from the sand. As the stranger armed himself, Finn couldn't help but not feel all too surprised.
'I guess if this is the deepest depths of Hell, then I can't expect the freaks placed here to be normal–still, I didn't expect this. Does he have some kind of system? It's weird–it feels different from normal,'
he questioned.
"Those clothes, those emerald eyes, so full of life, yet distant...Oh, yes...You remind me of him. He wielded daggers, just like you, too–it must be a gift, then. A gift that I get to cut apart another just like that troublesome boy," Jun-Seo claimed.
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but just put that sword down–there's no need for this," Finn advised, holding his ground.
Of course, attempting to speak reason was only futile as he saw the curl to those fiendish lips–
Jun-Seo swept his sword across the sand, sending a wave of the grains right against the assassin, "Come on, boy! Make this an enjoyable experience! It'll satisfy for at least another century!"
The wave of black sand obscured his vision, though he focused on the vibrations through the desert he stood on.
The hollow man's arm was cleanly flung off by the interception of the dagger. Finn calmly watched the man, deducing his next move at that moment.
'It's unlikely that I can "kill" him–he's already dead and in Hell. The best I can do is put him out of commission, then,'
he decided.
As the now one-armed man stumbled back as blood gushed from his nub, he lashed out before laughing again, "It wouldn't be fun if you couldn't bite back, anyway...!"
["
Blackout
"] [9:59]
Finn carried an orb of black mass in the palm of his hand, tossing it right for the maddened man. It made contact before Jun-Seo could even perceive it, slipping right into his chest without an issue.
"Oh?" Jun-Seo reacted. "Oh? Oh? Oh?"
The assassin observed for a moment at the effects of [Blackout], witnessing the sinner stumble around the sand, not even facing the right direction anymore.
'It's effective. Blackout is capable of suppressing all five senses–I don't know what the duration is, but it should be fine,'
he thought.
"Where did you go, assassin?!" Jun-Seo called out, wildly lashing his one arm around.
Finn calmly stepped over, casually swiping his dagger without much effort required. The simple movement removed the man's neck from his shoulders, letting his head plop right into the dark grains of sand.
"Oh...? It appears I've been beheaded," Jun-Seo remarked while his body still stumbled around.
There was nothing else for Finn to do but continue on his way, doing his best to forget about the odd encounter with the only person he met in the depressing place. Again, he found himself marching through the vast desert, perhaps still aimless, but with something to keep him going.
'I'm alive...At least, that's what that crazy guy said. Going off the words of somebody like him might not be the best idea, but it's not something he'd lie about. Still, if I'm alive, then why am I here?'
He questioned.
None of it made sense to him, though that wasn't all too surprising considering everything he'd experienced. The more he aimlessly walked, the more he started to believe he may truly be damned to the lonely desert.
Perhaps more hours passed, though he couldn't tell a minute from an hour anymore as he solely focused on moving his legs. He found himself walking in the center of a sandstorm, pelted by grains of sand relentlessly as he walked.
'If I had to guess, the reason I'm here is because of that guy. "The Devil"--that's the name it showed me. Maybe he sent me to Hell when he gutted me? That's all I can guess,'
he thought.
The sand wasn't too bothersome, though it made it difficult to see where he was going. Again, that failed to be much of an issue when the direction he went hardly seemed to have any bearing.
Pushing through the storm, enough was had as he tiredly dropped down, laying on the sand as he breathed out.
"It's just one thing after one always, isn't it?" He complained with an exhale.