Fifty kiloters turned into a hundred kiloters and Atlas' entire body was vibrating.
He felt like with every step he took, he fell through the floor a little further. He was rging with the Underworld and becoming a part of the soil.
It felt like there was mud all around him, keeping him from moving at his full potential.
When the first hundred kiloters passed, the level of torture increased dramatically.
Atlas still had his mind. His body was in severe pain, but perhaps the pain was so severe that it beca ignorable.
The trial accounted for his adaptation. It accounted for the fact that he was a cultivator with genuine potential.
If anything, the very first part of the pathway could be considered a test to see if he could withstand what ca next.
Because he was done walking. His path was no longer so straightforward.
Atlas was unable to feel as the ground was stripped away from underneath him. His body levitated in the air as a large wooden stake rose from the darkness. Alongside it were thousands of similar stakes, to which were tied countless souls.
Their arms and legs were tied behind their back, keeping them hoisted in the air. Atlas' soul was also fashioned in such a position.
His body kept walking through the pathway as if it was being piloted by a puppet master, but his soul…
Gasp!
Atlas' eyes shot open. He looked around in confusion just in ti for the darkness below him to be filled by solid ground.
He looked down just in ti to see the ground engulfed in flas.
"—-!"
He tried to scream, but it was already too late.
He, and all those surrounding him, were swallowed by the torrent.
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These were not flas like any he'd felt before. Fire had beco even more familiar to Atlas as he had been dealing with it more than anything else since entering Alfros for the first ti.
These flas were specifically created to burn the soul. They were ant to never completely incinerate the souls of those being touched by them. Their entire goal was to inflict everlasting pain.
Atlas' mind almost stopped working entirely when he was swallowed by them. Every receptor in his body scread out as they were t with temperatures beyond what they could handle.
However, his brain was not allowed to shut off. He wasn't allowed to stop feeling the sensation or adapt to it like he did when he was walking the path.
Atlas' soul was no longer in the pathway at all. He entered a zone of transition between the two Underworlds. His body was allowed to keep walking and making progress, but his soul was pulled around and forced to endure the thods of torture used on those souls that earned damnation.
This was the first of many. It would last for the next one hundred ters that his body walked.
How long was that exactly?
Well, ti didn't flow properly when space was being distorted to such a level, but if it had to be quantified…
Perhaps it was best to say that Atlas would have to endure the soul-burning tornt for several hours at the very least.
His mind couldn't be fathod. The flas struck him the sa way for the entire duration of that ti, but the feeling changed constantly.
At first, it was an overwhelming sensation. As Atlas had been suddenly returned his senses and then placed in this situation, it was only natural that he was going to suffer from the consequences. Afterward, the flas poked at him like a million needles, cascaded over him like sharp blades of wind and water, and even corroded him like acid.
He almost couldn't believe that he was only being burned. These flas were able to perfectly encapsulate all sensations of torture imaginable into a single picture.
"—-!"
No sound left Atlas' mouth, but he never stopped screaming. If the pain didn't keep changing, he wouldn't have been able to keep himself sane.
He started assigning tis to each period, assuming that he was only suffering for half an hour per sensation. He didn't care if he was lying to himself. It was the only way he could maintain rationality.
His mind could be related to a thick glass structure. It was heated until it burned a hot orange and white color and started to drip. The glass was ant to be molded so its structural integrity could be kept, but it wasn't. As such, when the sensation of the fire changed, the glass instantly cooled and cracked.
Atlas' mind would reach the verge of breaking. His soul teetered on the very edge of death, but he was not allowed to die.
The glass was once again heated until it was a blob of molten white and orange fluid. That blob was hardened into a structure with enough integrity to stand strong before it was sent back into the process.
Over and over again, his soul was boiled and healed. Over and over again, he felt his mind break before miraculously finding it fixed.
Maintaining rationality was nigh impossible. Maintaining sanity was out of the question. This was a punishnt made for souls that were never ant to see the light of day. How was a living being ant to endure it?
Nevertheless, despite the impossibility of maintaining sanity and rationality, Atlas tried his best to do it.
Whenever he felt his mind being healed, he took everything about his ego and tucked it away into an imaginary box in the corner of his mind. That box was impenetrable. If he felt himself slipping, he only had to think of the box to rember who he was.
He only had to rember that there was a box in his mind. As long as he rembered the existence of that box, he could rember himself regardless of how much his mind broke.
Or, well, that was the story he told himself.
And, for the current mont, it worked.
Hours passed. Atlas was tortured and felt pain beyond asure. He coped and coped and coped until his detached body finally crossed the two-hundred-ter mark.
The world around his soul changed.
"Haa…"
He sighed a breath of relief when he realized he wasn't imdiately thrown into torture.
'She wasn't joking.'
Hel told him he would have to suffer. He didn't think she ant anything so severe, but…
'I can still think.'
Despite everything that happened, he could still formulate thoughts. He could still sense his own existence. The little box in his head that protected who he was still stood strong.
He looked up at the mountain he stood in front of. Its base was angled softly, but it beca extrely steep near the peak.
In front of him sat a boulder more than three tis his size.
He looked between the two as if he was questioning if that was really what he was ant to do, but his body moved before he could rest for a second longer.
His feet took him to the boulder and his arms raised themselves so his hands were on its surface.
"Haa…"
Atlas sighed once more, but there was no longer any relief present in his expression.
This path…
It was going to be much longer than he originally expected it to be.
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