In the Fourth Circle of Hell, two figures suddenly fell from midair, hitting the ground heavily.
Igula immediately sat up and looked around, realizing that only he and Harvey were there. He instinctively breathed a sigh of relief, but complex emotions surged in his heart again. He rubbed his temples to dispel unnecessary thoughts from his mind, only then realizing he seemed to have arrived in a strange place.
He was sitting on a vast grassland, the grass soft and dry, with not the slightest trace of earthy smell, a warm breeze gently brushing his face, the bright sunshine obscured by white clouds, making the world bright but not dazzling.
Even after over twenty years of life, Igula had never witnessed such a comfortable and beautiful scenery. In that moment, Igula even doubted whether he had left Hell and returned to earth.
"So beautiful..."
The dark-skinned curly-haired man extinguished the white flame on his face, widened his eyes at this world, and sincerely praised it.
