Donny lowered the letter to the ground beside him.
"Goal, huh… What I want is to survive. Maybe build something with my life."
He leaned over, grabbed the bag at his side, and pulled it closer. Inside were a map, some bandages, a water flask, and an empty leather pouch. Donny took the flask and drank deeply.
Then he slowly stood, using the wall for support.
"I need to get going," he muttered.
He tried walking, steadying himself against the wall, but then stopped, clutching his head. A sharp pain lanced through the left side of his skull. His vision blurred. He dropped to his knees, groaning.
And then… he blinked.
He was standing on a lawn.
Expression blank, he already knew what he was seeing. His old home. The one he'd shared with his mother.
A boy walked to the driveway, scissors in hand. Donny watched silently as the boy cut the brakes on the car, then walked back into the house.
A woman, his mother, came out, got into the car, and drove off.
Moments later, the boy exited the house again and headed into the forest. Donny followed.
There was a shortcut to get to the town square through the forest. I used to walk through it a lot as a kid. The trees here grew tall and narrow, branches curling above like ribs over a spine. Sparse rays of light leaked through the dense canopy, casting long, jagged shadows across the undergrowth. Fallen leaves and moss covered the dirt path beneath my feet, muffling every step.
This time, I wanted to get to the town square, just like Mom does, and this was the only way on foot.
Donny followed the boy through the forest.
After about ten minutes of walking, they reached the edge of the woods, where the dirt path gave way to a cracked stretch of asphalt. The road looked forgotten, faded yellow lines barely visible, with grass sprouting between fractures in the pavement. It curved slightly left, then led down a gentle slope toward the town square, just visible in the near distance. A dull, dusty haze lingered in the air, hanging low over the roadside like breath that refused to fade.
They waited.
Two minutes passed, maybe less, before the familiar hum of a car approached from the far side. Donny's heart thudded in sync with the rumble of tires, then he saw it. His mom's car rolled in at full speed.
At the same moment, another car pulled out from a side road just ahead, old, red, its windows streaked with dirt. Mom's car didn't stop. Of course, it couldn't.
The tires screeched, swerving too late. The front-left tire clipped the other car, bouncing upward like it had hit a ramp. Metal screamed as the car twisted in the air, flipping once, twice, and again before crashing upside down, glass and debris raining onto the road like shards of memory.
The boy ran over to the wreck.
"Mom," the boy said flatly once reaching the overturned car.
Heavy breathing was heard. "Oh, Donny, is that you? Thank the heavens... Donny, I need you to help me open the door."
The handle clicked as she tried to push it open, but Donny slammed his back against it, keeping it shut.
Other cars were pulling up now, drawn by the crash.
Banging and screams erupted from the other side of the door.
DONNY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP—I CAN'T BREATHE—I—IT HURTS—DONNY, PLEASE—ST—STOP—
The cries suddenly died out as the car began to smoke. Donny stumbled back, trembling. A man grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away from the wreck just before the car exploded in a burst of flame and shrapnel.
Donny blinked.
He was back in the cave.
The cold, damp air pressed against his skin. The silence, heavy and still, seemed to echo what he had just seen.
Why are those memories resurfacing now?
He leaned his head back against the wall, letting out a slow, uneven breath.
Soon after that "accident," my uncle took me in. He was still sick, but getting better.
Truth be told, I don't regret killing my mother. But...
Donny glanced at the small pouch beside him. He untied it, plucking out a few cavern berries and popping them into his mouth one by one.
After my uncle took me in, the cancer that threatened to kill him started to fade. He was getting better. Stronger. Alive.
Too alive.
He wasn't going to die anytime soon. Which meant the shop her shop wouldn't be mine anytime soon either.
Donny stood up slowly, using the wall for support. His steps were shaky, but steady enough. He made his way toward the tomb where the demon had once lain before he slew it. He crawled into the base of the stone crypt, its jagged edges oddly softened by a layer of moss and ancient sun-dried fabric. He lay back, eyes open.
A soft vision crept in like a fog.
A younger Donny stood in a dim kitchen, crushing something into a glass of water. The light flickered overhead. He stirred it slowly, then carried the glass to his uncle, who was slouched on a battered couch.
The man took it, drank without hesitation.
That was two years after I killed my mom.
I was annoyed. Furious, even. That he was still alive after everything. After what I did. After I endured.
I killed her so I could inherit the store. So I could finally have something. But instead, he lived. Lived for me, he said. Fought to stay alive so I wouldn't be alone. How dare he, right?
So I started poisoning him. Little by little. The cancer came back. Worse than before.
Another memory bled into view. A hospital room. White walls. A constant, mechanical beeping.
Young Donny entered, holding a syringe.
He sat by the bed where his uncle lay. Tubes in his arms. Oxygen mask across his face. Eyes closed. Still alive.
Donny looked at him for a long time.
"I killed her," he whispered. "I know you can't hear me right now, but I killed her. My mother."
He let the words hang in the sterile air.
"You might be wondering why. Well, we were barely scraping by. Sometimes we only ate once a day. Sometimes not at all. I wore the same clothes for years. Got bullied for it, too. And on top of being dirt poor… Mom being a hooker didn't exactly help."
His voice cracked, but he didn't stop.
"I wanted more. And these last two years? I've lived better than I ever had."
He paused. "I was rambling. Sorry."
"I killed her so I could have full control of the store. You were supposed to die, but you wouldn't. So now "
He pressed the syringe into his uncle's arm. The man's body jolted, muscles seizing violently. Machines shrieked in alarm.
Donny sprang to his feet, hiding the syringe as nurses rushed in.
Back in the tomb, Donny's hand gripped the edge of the stone slab.
Donny sat up and stared at the stone wall in front of him.
After everything I put both of you through... I still wanted more.
I thought the store would be a treasure, some golden escape from poverty. But it wasn't luxurious. It was a failing business.
Donny gritted his teeth.
All those gifts… all those comforts… they came from the money you saved up for retirement. I killed for that. And what did it bring me? Misery.
The shop bled me dry. I had to pay property taxes. I worked that dying store day and night. And with what little money you left me, I signed a contract with a distributor…
He clenched his fists.
I didn't even read the damn thing.
Half the money is gone just for them to send me a single piece of jewelry. One piece. I was furious. Tried to cancel the contract. They hit me with a penalty of ten thousand a month. For a single piece of worthless, tacky crap.
His voice cracked as he spoke aloud now, shaking.
I fought to stop the payments. They hit me again, with a termination fee. Took everything I had left.
So I had an idea: why not steal gold jewelry from other people, melt it down, and reshape it into something new? Sell it off. Make ends meet.
That's what I did. That's what I've been doing. Since I was fifteen.
Tears began to roll down Donny's cheeks.
He pressed his palms into his face, shoulders trembling.
"I'm sorry, Mom… I'm sorry, Uncle…"
"I don't regret ending your lives to try and make mine better."
His voice rose into a broken scream.
"BUT I REGRET DOING IT IN VAIN! IN THE END, NOTHING CAME FROM YOUR DEATHS!"
He pounded the floor once with his fist, then fell silent.
The echoes of his confession faded into the darkness of the crypt.
Donny looked at the crumpled letter on the ground. He stood, picked it up, and slowly crushed it in his fist.
"A goal, huh…?"
His voice was low at first, almost thoughtful.
"I want it all."
His hand tightened around the paper, blood beginning to bead from the pressure.
"If souls are what this new world values, then I'll gather more than anyone. Because power follows abundance. And those who control what others want control everything."
His voice darkened.
"To gain that power… I'll crush everyone who gets in my way."
He stared forward, eyes glassy with tears that refused to fall.
"I will achieve my goal. No matter the cost. For everyone I've wronged and for everyone I will wrong, I won't let it be in vain."
His hands were clenched so hard that rivulets of blood ran down his wrists.
Donny wiped his face, smearing dirt and blood across his cheeks. His eyes now burned with determination.
"To be the wealthiest soul in purgatory, I need strength. Real strength. The kind that kills monsters, demons… maybe even grey angels."
"The stronger the soul I take, the more it's worth."
Suddenly, a searing heat pulsed through his hand. Donny winced and looked down.
A glowing mark had appeared on his left palm, a gold coin, embedded like a brand.
"So I've been marked… Greed has soaked into me."
He flexed his fingers, blood cracking from his knuckles.
"And the punishment will come…"
He grinned slightly, a cold fire behind his eyes.
"…But so will the reward."
After several days of rest, Donny stepped out of the cave.
He had one goal now: reach the Seventh Layer.
And own everything beneath it.
Donny peeled off the bandage as he stepped out of the cave, revealing a jagged scar that stretched from the left of his forehead to just beside his eye. A souvenir from the Grey Dusk Wolf, a reminder of what he'd survived.
He glanced at the worn map in his hand and began walking.
Two hours passed in silence, the bleak landscape of purgatory stretching endlessly around him. The sky hung low and gray, and the cracked stone ground offered no comfort.
That's when he saw a shadowy figure darting toward him on the horizon.
Multiple arms. Slithering. Reaching.
Donny narrowed his eyes.
"Wait… I've seen that thing before."
One of its limbs lashed out at him with blinding speed.
Donny dove left, barely dodging it, then sprinted forward, blade at the ready.
But the monster was fast.
Another arm slammed into his chest before he could react, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him skidding across the cold stone. He hit the ground hard, tumbled, then rolled to his feet with a groan.
He gritted his teeth and drew his blade, his eyes locked on the enemy.
I just need to get in close.
Donny charged. The creature responded, arms snapping at him in rapid succession.
He ducked under the first.
Slashed through the second.
Jumped over the third.
And as he descended, he brought the blade down with all his strength, cleaving the monster in half.
He landed on its corpse, breath ragged, his left hand resting on the creature's cold flesh.
Suddenly, energy surged into his palm.
The golden coin mark on his hand turned pitch black.
"What the hell?"
Before he could finish, shadowy arms erupted from his palm, writhing and stretching through the air like the ones from the monster.
Donny stared, eyes wide.
"I… stole its ability?"
Before Donny could process what had just happened, the sky shrieked.
A bird-like monster dove from above, wings massive and black, feathers as sharp as blades. Its beak was long, jagged like a broken spear, and its talons gleamed like onyx knives. Eyes, dozens of them, were scattered unnaturally across its body, all locked onto him.
It swooped low, slashing at him with its talons.
Donny barely twisted out of the way, the wind from the strike cutting across his face.
"Shit!"
Instinctively, he swung the shadow arms behind him. They lunged at the bird, but it darted upward in a blur, too fast. It circled overhead, screeching.
Donny backed up, eyes darting from the sky to the ground, trying to plan his next move.
Then he heard it skittering, growling, and something slithering.
Another shadow monster emerged from the gray mist.
And another.
Then more.
Too many. Far more than he could handle.
Panic twisted in Donny's gut.
"No... not now."
The bird screamed again overhead as the shadow creatures rushed from every direction.
Donny turned and ran, legs pounding the cracked stone, lungs burning.