"…for the soul is softened by repentance, and it is by repentance that expiation must be made."
LEVEL 50-ID
THE CRATER OF CLEANSING
This is my entry for the Level 50-ID contest. Happy reading!
Don't forget to up-vote <3.
*Translated by InspectingCritters
Original page here.
SURVIVAL DIFFICULTY
DEADZONE
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Your eyelids open. The world around you is enveloped in a fog that smells of sulfur, constricting the air like the suffocating webs of a spider. The sky above is gone, smothered in smoke, obscuring the towering cliffs that trap this place in eternity. The wind whispers, not in a calming tone, but like that of distant cries of lost souls. The first steps you take on the cracked ground feel like stepping on the burnt skin of the world; the stones under your feet do not stay silent, slowly clacking as if protesting your presence here. There are no calls of birds, no crunching of dry leaves — there is only the sound of your breath, constricted by air heavier than your sins, more potent than the ash of cremation. |
The Crater of Cleansing. |
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The Waters of Cleansing. |
Yet slowly, the fog parts, as if providing your eyes with a chance to witness its horrors. There in front of you, in the centre of the crater, lies a lake that shines like a broken mirror — not merely water, but rather a sea of poison. Its indigo colour is captivating, unreal, as if painting a depth that could engulf all there is. Acidic steam rises from its surface, spinning in a ghostly, otherworldly dance, ready to tear your lungs with each breath in too deep. None are brave enough to touch it, and there are none that can; the water is not still, but instead it cleanses. |
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Those that appear on the edge of this crater always face the same dilemma — stay there, and wait for God-knows-what, or try and look for a way out that was never promised. The towering cliffs that surround it stand like silent guards, too steep to climb, and too brittle to act as footholds. Every step towards the stone walls is only a step towards hopelessness; cracks that seem stable will shatter under your feet, leaving toes bleeding and hope fractured. The only path now is to stay, waiting, listening to the blowing of wind that carries rumours of those who came before — now existing only as souls of the dead. |
The Cliffs of Cleansing. |
The Fires of Cleansing. |
And, if you’re still for long enough — eyes closed as you let the silence penetrate you, you’ll start to hear the unseen sounds emanating not from your surroundings, but rather from your very being. Whispers that urge you to step closer to the edge, to look into that crater, to feel the intoxicating temptation of ruination. Maybe this is the fate of this place — not to be defeated, not to be explored, but to test the limits of human desire. Until finally, those who find themselves here only have three choices: to be ash on cliffs unyielding, to drown in a lake unforgiving, or to surrender the self in its entirety to the Fires of Cleansing — the only path to Level 51-ID. |
The Crater of Cleansing.
Your eyelids open. The world around you is enveloped in a fog that smells of sulfur, constricting the air like the suffocating webs of a spider. The sky above is gone, smothered in smoke, obscuring the towering cliffs that trap this place in eternity. The wind whispers, not in a calming tone, but like that of distant cries of lost souls. The first steps you take on the cracked ground feel like stepping on the burnt skin of the world; the stones under your feet do not stay silent, slowly clacking as if protesting your presence here. There are no calls of birds, no crunching of dry leaves — there is only the sound of your breath, constricted by air heavier than your sins, more potent than the ash of cremation.
The Waters of Cleansing.
Yet slowly, the fog parts, as if providing your eyes with a chance to witness its horrors. There in front of you, in the centre of the crater, lies a lake that shines like a broken mirror — not merely water, but rather a sea of poison. Its indigo colour is captivating, unreal, as if painting a depth that could engulf all there is. Acidic steam rises from its surface, spinning in a ghostly, otherworldly dance, ready to tear your lungs with each breath in too deep. None are brave enough to touch it, and there are none that can; the water is not still, but instead it cleanses.
The Cliffs of Cleansing.
Those that appear on the edge of this crater always face the same dilemma — stay there, and wait for God-knows-what, or try and look for a way out that was never promised. The towering cliffs that surround it stand like silent guards, too steep to climb, and too brittle to act as footholds. Every step towards the stone walls is only a step towards hopelessness; cracks that seem stable will shatter under your feet, leaving toes bleeding and hope fractured. The only path now is to stay, waiting, listening to the blowing of wind that carries rumours of those who came before — now existing only as souls of the dead.
The Fires of Cleansing.
And, if you’re still for long enough — eyes closed as you let the silence penetrate you, you’ll start to hear the unseen sounds emanating not from your surroundings, but rather from your very being. Whispers that urge you to step closer to the edge, to look into that crater, to feel the intoxicating temptation of ruination. Maybe this is the fate of this place — not to be defeated, not to be explored, but to test the limits of human desire. Until finally, those who find themselves here only have three choices: to be ash on cliffs unyielding, to drown in a lake unforgiving, or to surrender the self in its entirety to the Fires of Cleansing — the only path to Level 51-ID.
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