Blood Throne

Winter’s consciousness drifts through the endless void, floating through dimensions and realms beyond his understanding. Time no longer has meaning, and space itself warps around him.

He can’t tell how long he has been moving—minutes, hours, or even centuries—but in that strange journey, he feels a deep pull. Something is calling him back.

Suddenly, Winter becomes aware of his body again. He feels something solid beneath him, cold and slick. It is as if his soul has landed on something tangible for the first time since his death.

His eyes flicker open, and he finds himself staring up at a sky that burns an ominous crimson. The horizon is bathed in red, the clouds swirling like blood mixed with fire. The oppressive weight of the air hangs heavy on him, thick and suffocating.

“Where… am I?” Winter thinks.

His body lies on the ground, but this is no ordinary ground—it is a pool of blood. The surface stretches endlessly in every direction, a vast ocean of thick, crimson liquid. He can feel it, cold against his skin, but strangely, it doesn’t stick to him. His hands press against the surface, feeling the depth of it, but his body remains untouched by the blood.

Slowly, Winter sits up, his mind hazy from the disorienting transition between life and whatever this place is. The memories of his death are fresh—Yuui’s blade, the flames, his surrender to fate. But now, here he is, alive—no, not alive, but aware. His soul still exists.

“Is this… hell?” Winter whispers to himself, his voice echoing eerily in the endless expanse of blood.

The ground beneath him ripples as if responding to his presence, waves spreading out from where he sits. He stands up slowly, surveying the desolate landscape. The blood stretches on infinitely, an endless sea beneath the blood-red sky. There is no sun, no horizon—just the oppressive atmosphere of the unknown.

“Hahaha! Hahahaha!”

Winter freezes, his eyes narrowing as the haunting laughter echoes through the blood-drenched expanse.

The woman’s voice is mocking, her words laced with a strange familiarity that sends a chill through him.

He turns towards the source, and in the distance, he sees it—a towering blood throne, unlike anything he has seen before. Seated upon it is a woman, her silhouette sharp and menacing against the crimson sky.

The throne seems to rise from the very sea of blood beneath them, its grotesque form pulsating as though alive.

“There are gods! And then there is me.”

““Hahaha! Hahahaha!”

The woman sits lazily, draped in a cloak of deep red, her eyes glowing with an eerie light. The laughter continues, cruel and unforgiving, as she regards Winter with cold amusement.

“I’m forever strong.”

“Hahaha! Hahahaha!”

Winter clenches his fists and starts walking toward her, each step sending ripples through the blood below. His heart pounds in his chest, not out of fear, but out of frustration. Her mocking tone stirs something deep within him—something he thought he had left behind.

“Who are you?” Winter demands, his voice harsh as he draws closer to the throne. “And what do you know about me?”

“I know a lot about you.”

“Even though forever strongest… you stupidly and rather ironically allow yourself to be killed,” the woman replies.

“Hahaha! Hahahaha!”

The woman leans forward slightly, her laughter fading into a wicked grin.

“Who am I?” she repeats, her voice dripping with disdain.

“Oh, Winter… after everything you’ve done, after all the blood you’ve spilled, you don’t recognize me?”

Winter’s mind races. The blood, the throne, the eerie control over this twisted dimension—everything about her screams power. But there is something else, something darker lurking beneath her taunts.

Her words sting more than he wants to admit. He has prided himself on being "forever strong," and yet here he is, standing before someone who seems to know every weakness, every failure.

“Don’t play games with me,” Winter growls, stepping closer.

“I don’t care who you are. Tell me where I am.”

The woman tilts her head, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, but I love games,” she says, her voice sultry and smooth.

The woman leans back on her throne, the blood pooling beneath her feet, swirling in dark, hypnotic patterns. Her piercing gaze fixes on Winter.

"You see, you're in my domain now," she says, her voice smooth yet chilling. "You may refer to me as Kali, goddess of blood."

Winter, still disoriented from his sudden arrival, takes in his surroundings and then her words.

"Hmm... Would you mind explaining all this to me?" he asks, trying to steady his thoughts.

"It's simple," Kali responds with a wicked smile.

"I summon your soul here after your death. And by the way, you will call me goddess, got that?"

Winter’s eyes narrow, though he keeps his tone controlled. "Goddess, could you also tell me exactly why you brought me here?"

Kali’s grin widens. "Oh, that's easy. You have two options. Two choices, and only two."

"And they are?" Winter crosses his arms, trying to gauge the seriousness of her tone.

Kali raises her hand, counting off the first option. "Option one: I wipe your soul clean. You'll be reborn as a stranger. Poof, vanished. All your memories gone. You'd become... someone else entirely." She pauses, clearly savoring the moment.

Winter cocks his head slightly, frowning. "In other words, I’d get a fresh new start?"

"Exactly," Kali says, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "A fresh start. Free from your past, free from all your sins. But you’ll be different. A blank slate."

Winter lets the weight of her words sink in for a moment. "What’s the second option?"

Kali’s voice drips with a wicked allure. "Your other option is simple: accept my request and be reborn as my child."

Winter raises an eyebrow, but his expression remains unreadable. "Reborn as your child?"

The goddess nods, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "In exchange, you would keep your memories—retain all of your knowledge and experience. You’d live a new life, but with the full advantage of your past."

Winter considers her words, his voice low and calculating. "In some ways, that would be like continuing my current life."

Kali's grin widens. "It’s quite an appealing offer, don’t you agree?"

There is a pause as Winter's eyes narrow. He leans forward slightly, voice sharp. "Who do you want me to kill?"

Kali's laughter echoes through the blood-soaked air. "Oh? How did you guess?"

Winter’s stare hardens, his voice dripping with disdain. "You gods are all the same creatures. Every offer of power comes with blood on your hands."

The goddess’ laughter fades, replaced by a glint of appreciation in her eyes. "I’m glad you see clearly. You understand far better than most."

She crosses her legs, her gaze sharpening. "That’s why I choose you. You’re the finest soul I’ve encountered. The strongest."

Winter’s fists clench, though his expression remains cold. "So, what’s the mission?"

Kali leans forward, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "You will be reborn in the same world… but in a different timeline. Four, perhaps five hundred years into the future."

Winter’s eyes widen ever so slightly. "The same world?"

Kali smiles, the look of a predator toying with its prey. "Yes."

The silence that follows is suffocating, thick with tension.

"And what do you want me to do there?" Winter asks, though he already senses the answer.

Kali’s eyes darken, a sinister aura spilling from her as she speaks. "I want you to kill Goddess Uranus, daughter of Gaea… the mother of Earth."

Her expression twists into an intimidating, cunning grin, a look that sends chills down Winter’s spine.

Winter stares at her for a long moment, processing the sheer scale of the request. He isn’t dealing with simple gods anymore—this is something far more dangerous.

"Uranus?" he repeats, trying to fathom the enormity of the task.

"That’s right," Kali confirms, her voice both seductive and terrifying.

"She’s the one I want dead."