The Awakening of the Hollow

It was a rainy evening in the Autonomus Citadel of Sybaris, where amidst the gray clouds of sunset, a few "lights" stood out, falling from the sky, which the people only looked at with indifference and even contempt.

Several of the inhabitants of the continent of Valtoria were aware that these "lights" were actually the souls of disgraced people from other worlds and eras, brought to this world that no longer believed in anything.

"Why does that damned Goddess keep insisting on this?" said an angry villager, seeing that this had become an everyday occurrence.

These summoned people are known disparagingly as "Remnants of Divine Love", lost souls summoned to this world with bodies that simulate being human, but are not, being more similar to undead or homunculi.

What these remnants have in common is that many use terminology strange to the local population, such as "Video Game Mechanics," "RPG," "Level System," explaining away the technology as being far too advanced for the time, or feeling disillusioned by the decadence of this world, the apathy and hostility of its inhabitants, and the insane number of monsters and conflicting beings.

They were all brought to this world by the influence of Nahema, the Goddess of Love, once worshipped by entire kingdoms of Valtoria. But today, she is no longer seen by the same eyes because the continent as a whole no longer believes in anything. Not in gods, not in kings, not in heroes, not in itself. Only those who manipulate, hunt, or flee survive.

Nahema calls it: “The world that renounced Love.”

                                                                                   

***

It was a scene of pure darkness, with the smell of rotten incense and a voice heard in the distance.

A female voice, soft as velvet.

???: “Open your eyes, Ashren... if you don't, they'll close them for you.”

A buzzing sound surrounds him. It's not sound. It's a cursed memory.

THUMP.

The rumble of wooden wheels against old stone.

THUMP.

The creak of rusty chains.

THUMP.

???: "When the world breaks," she said, "when not even pain knows your name, I want you to remember this. That you were once loved."

A dull thud, like a body against a door that refuses to open.

Ashren wakes up. If that's what waking up is.

He remembers nothing. Not who he is. Not even if he dreamed. He only has a name he doesn't recognize and a weight on his chest that he can't remove. He's inside a windowless carriage, lined with red cloth stained black. It smells of cheap perfume... and dried blood.

His arms are free. There are no shackles. There are no marks.

Only... circular scars, as if something had been torn from him.

Suddenly, the voice returns, closer. Inside his ear. Inside his mind.

???: “I give you to them, my beloved. Let the hunters tear you apart... or wake you. Only when you bleed will you know if you can still love.”

CRACK!

The carriage door bursts open.

Ashren is violently thrown out, his unprepared body crashing onto the cobblestones of Aksum's ancient square, surrounded by toppled statues and twisted iron lanterns. There is no sound of the carriage moving away. As if it had never existed.

He raises his head, stunned, spitting ash.

Before him: a fortress blackened by centuries of fire.

On its walls, torn banners bearing an emblem of thorns and bones, armored doors, hanging bodies. And above, an inscription burned into the threshold:

“No one enters without bleeding.”

From the battlements, hooded figures watch him.

One of them turns the lever.

The doors open slowly.

Not in welcome... but in judgment.

The rain fell black. A rusty iron gate opened in front of him. And hooded figures watched him.

"Another Fallen, Nahema keeps throwing broken toys..." spat a hoarse, hooded voice.

"Where am I...? Who am I...?" Ashren murmured, kneeling in front of the rusty gate, his voice cracking, as if his tongue were made of stone, as other Hunters approached him, pointing spears at him.

"Another gift from the heavens... thrown like a dog. Look at him. Nameless, without even knowing his whereabouts. Pure wasted meat..." said a grim, iron-masked Hunter.

Ashren was dragged by the Hunters into the structure before him: a bastard prison, where broken emblems of noble houses hang, and blood-stained banners bearing inverted crosses.

This bastion is the base of the Order of the Hunters.

The Hunters (better known as the Sworn of Sybaris) were originally a branch of paladins serving deities like Nahema, until the betrayal of the heavens—or abandonment, depending on one's point of view—led them to renounce all divine mandate, swearing to hunt not only dangerous beasts and blasphemous entities, but also prophets, apostles and any creature touched by the "sacred."

As Ashren was dragged inside, escorted by the other Hunters, he was obviously not well received as a Remnant of Divine Love.

***

“Only when you bleed... will you know if you can still love.”  That phrase sends a pain through Ashren's head as he is dragged through the dark corridors.

The fortress smelled of old blood, tar, despair, and nameless hatred. The walls are covered with empty hooks and display cases of stuffed half-human monster parts, with green torches crackling with poisonous smoke. The hooded figures didn't speak to each other, but each step echoed like a verdict.

Ashren didn't remember his name, but he felt every wound. Every misplaced bone. Every rib like a needle. He was a broken puppet carried by executioners.

Then the tour was halted by a mural in the hallway depicting three worn figures.

—A woman crowned with withered roses.

—A naked empress, covered only in jewels.

—A faceless warrior, with a crossed-out cross.

Below them, engraved in bone: "Three bloods. Three lies. No redemption."

One of the figures begins speaking to Ashren in front of the mural, without looking him in the eye.

"Do you know who they are?", he asked without turning around.

Ashren didn't respond, not understanding the culture of the world around him. And it didn't help that his lips didn't move.

"You come from one of them," the hooded figure added, his voice dry. "And that's why you're here."

They continued forward. The doors opened with an unearthly creak, allowing them to walk deeper into the bastion.