The voice naturally belonged to Asmodeus, King of Hell. After all, no one else would be in this palace but him. This was Asmodeus's domain alone.
The current Asmodeus had none of the gloom and mystery of legend. Instead, he grinned like a complete fool, laughing viciously, while a fist-sized black crystal sphere floated before him. The sphere seemed to be in a bad state. Its surface was covered in cracks, and countless motes of light drifted out through them. Asmodeus, like an addict getting his fix, eagerly and blissfully inhaled the escaping motes into his body.
As the motes entered him, the lake outside the palace began to tremble. Wave after wave crashed against the valley walls with tremendous force.
"Ha ha ha! That's it! Faster, faster, my precious..."
Asmodeus seemed completely high now, his eyes bloodshot and his emotions feverish. He had none of the bearing of the King of Hell and instead resembled a crazed, excited junkie.
In a dimension Asmodeus could not see, a blurry shadow sped through the Nine Hells toward him. If anyone could see through dimensions, they would discover that this blurry figure was none other than Solam, our protagonist!
Solam was currently in an incredibly strange state. He felt as though he had drunk bad alcohol. He was clearly conscious, yet unable to think properly; his entire mind was a hazy blur. He only felt that something was calling to him, urging him to come closer.
One still-awake corner of Solam's consciousness kept trying to control his body. It sensed danger. But it was ultimately only a small part of his consciousness. Solam could not even think right now, so how could he possibly control his body—if he even had one.
In any case, Solam's soul drifted toward the place calling him.