The pain became indistinguishable. Like a numbness paralyzing his bones. It felt serene, peaceful, the tell-tale signs of death approaching his door. For a few hours, anyway.
Death, always fleeting, lacked a presence in the Underworld.
Movement alerted his senses. He struggled to open his eyes. Tired, he barely lifted them to see his boot—or perhaps the shine of his armor—move to the other side of the room.
“You’ve grown quiet.”
Something wet, his blood no doubt, trailed down the side of his nose. The blade dug an inch closer to his forehead.
It distracted him for a moment, reminding him of the pain he initially forgotten. Death would not come so easily.
Not when the Lord of the Underworld extended his time, if only for a moment longer, to remain alive.
The chains rattled against his protest then he fell slack. His breathing echoed across the room.
“Still alive. Good." Footsteps approached and ended in front of him. “As I mentioned before, all it takes is a confirmation. What say you, Shun?”
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