It was a long time before life flared in his eyes, eerie embers of red in the shadow of his helmet. For a moment, they raged like hellfire, taking in his surroundings with intention to smash it all to tiny, tiny bits.

"Fire, rocks, lava, and more fire."

The embers of his eyes flickered uncertainly.

"Fuck me with a ten-foot pole, I've died and gone to hell."

The lord knight faltered slightly, suddenly fearful. He'd been expecting the nothingness of the Abyss when he died, not an eternity of suffering in high temperatures under the watchful eyes of a bunch of pitchfork wielding imps. Though in his mind, getting roasted on a spit for all of eternity rated higher than oblivion, he wasn't prepared for this.

His skin burned easily.

As the lord knight turned to run, however, he found himself unable to raise his foot. Or bend his leg, for that matter. Apparently, in hell, they removed people's kneecaps and soldered them to the ground, just in case anyone got any funny ideas.

The lord knight bent over and tried to pull his leg loose, only to discover that he seemed to lack a functional waist and elbows as well, though his shoulders worked fine.

He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He tried to groan, but somehow managed a weak scratching sound instead. He tried flailing his arms wildly and kicking at the same time, in hope of breaking his greaves off of the floor. The unexpected success of the last maneuver took him completely by surprise, sending him on his back in a rather unceremonious manner. The lord knight hit the ground hard, striking it with all two hundred pounds of armor still encasing him. It should have felt like having a bookcase fall on him.

It didn't.

As a matter of fact, nothing felt like anything.

The lord knight blinked, unsure of what to make of the discovery. On one hand, he probably wasn't in hell, considering how hell was a place of suffering. Not much suffering to be done when the victim was nerveless through and through, after all. On the other hand, if he couldn't feel, that probably meant he was seriously wounded, more seriously than ever before. He couldn't imagine how bad that'd be. It was like something had seared off every nerve on his body, then randomly fused the joints of his armor together-

"…oh, right."

Cursing his incredible fortune, the lord knight rolled onto his belly and began to crawl as quickly as he could out of there, before something else found his half-charred ass and took a chunk out of it. It was a long, tedious journey, made twice as hard and a hundredfold more stupid looking by his inability to bend his limbs. He struggled facedown through the cave for hours, silently swearing all the way.

It wasn't until he reached the cave entrance that he realized that he hadn't been attacked by as much a flaming bat on his way out.

He shrugged indifferently. Perhaps they did not relish canned meat.

It was some time after he had crawled out of the cave, found a rock to prop himself back on his feet with, and discovered how to walk without looking too damned retarded that he came upon the water hole. Little more than an overgrown puddle, it was still the source of life on the plateau, the only source of water on Yuno Fields. In a sense, it was not so different from the oasis in Morroc, in that if you didn't drink from it while you had the chance, you'd probably shrivel up and die of dehydration before you reached civilization.

With that in mind, the lord knight approached the hole, despite not feeling the slightest bit thirsty and unable to bend over to take a sip without falling headlong into the pool. It was quite curious, actually, how he could feel nothing, not move his joints, and not even speak.

"There's probably a medical term for this." He mused as he hobbled over to the hole. "Some big, long-ass word. Hell, they have a word for everything. Wonder what the hell I hav-"

He stopped.

Stared into the reflection in the pool.

And had the first true shock of his life.

Before him was a towering suit of black armor, badly melted in several places, altogether missing in a few others, especially the lightly armored midriff and visor. The knee and elbow plates had been fused into immovable pieces, and all designs or markings had been blasted out of existence. The heat had caused the metal to cave in and contort to near skeletal proportions; doubtlessly destroying whatever may have been underneath. No living man could have occupied the suit, not unless he shaved off half his torso and starved off his arms and legs. But that was the least of his worries. There was something far, far worse going on.

The suit was empty.

Completely and utterly empty.

The lord knight stared into the pool a while longer, realized it wasn't a dream, and calmly diagnosed himself with a minor case of Fucking Deadus.

He sat down, well aware that it was going to be a bitch to get back up again without his knees. The lord knight hardly cared. He needed some time to think. To think of… something… to think of… anything… to calm down, to gather up his mind, to take stock of what he had, and what he had to do…

"…and who, exactly, am I? "

Perhaps it was the shock of realizing he was dead. Perhaps it was trauma from the death itself. Perhaps it was because he was quite literally without a brain. Whatever the reason, the lord knight remembered little of his flesh and blood life. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if he had ever been human.

"…ever been hum-?"

He exploded out of his seat, teetered. And righted himself. He'd lost his body, his life, and his memories. He be damned if he let whatever was left slip away. Without the slightest idea where he was headed, the lord knight hobbled off.