Garden Of The Abyss

I'm weak, frail, and flawed from head to toe. Honestly, I have trouble thinking of anything worthwhile about myself. I'd like to say that I'm selfless, but we all are until the moment actually arrives to prove it.

The smell hit his nostrils instantly, scrunching his nose as his face contorted from the ungodly stench that filled the air. Before he could cover his smell-discerning organ to block the invasive scent, his body responded by gagging--losing control over his bodily functions as all he could do was continue to cough and gag at the horrid stench. Tears fled from his eyes as the rotten aroma continued to infiltrate his nose, finding himself only able to throw up spats of vile liquid from his nearly empty stomach.

"What the hell...is that?" He asked himself, wiping the bile from his lips as he began to walk through the empty courtyard.

The opulent walls were now painted with blood, silver blades protruding from both the walls and floors as chunks of flesh were attached to the tools of violence. The sight immediately caused him to hurl once more, matching the smell to the source. A place he had just accepted as his home, a place of nobility and history, was overturned into a nightmarish mindscape.

Halls that were once the embodiment of grandeur now were presented as a battlefield, layered with blood, guts, and steel. Soon, his mind ignored the stench as his senses were overwritten with horror, slowly making his way through the hellish halls.

"Mila...Meinhard, you're alive, aren't you'¦?"

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