"It's time to take a nap..."
Drakion felt no need to remain in this world any longer.
The pain, the helplessness—it wasn't just overwhelming... it was suffocating.
Even the burning desire for revenge, the one thing that should have kept him alive, had been extinguished by the enemy's insurmountable strength.
Even though they weren't blood-related, they were closer than kin.
He had regarded them as his family.
And now... his family had been devoured before his eyes—while he cowered in fear, when he should have taken the lead and protected them with all his might.
"I am such a failure," Drakion thought, as the world around him turned cold.
His vision remained dark—no light, no warmth.
Then, suddenly, he found himself in an ominous yet strangely tranquil place.
He looked around, confused and surprised.
Is hell different from the legends told on Earth? Drakion wondered, noting that he could move his body.
Ding!
"[This isn't hell. Host is in his soul sub-space.]"
