The overly clear sensations were something he had never heard or known possible.
And to top it all off, while these sensations all came in at the same time, they didn’t clog his mind at all.
If anything, they actually came together—piece by piece—crafting a vivid, seamless image of the world around him in Ryuk’s mind.
"That’s new," he muttered to himself, but he didn’t dwell on it much, instead turning to look at his surroundings.
For one, the room around him was significantly different from what he was used to.
It even made him wonder if he was still in Ammamora.
Everything around him was made of wood.
What he sat on was a low wooden bed placed at the center of the room, built from golden-stained slats, its foam mattress more firm than soft.
Beside the bedding sat a small, square table, barely knee-high, and on either side of the table was a golden-colored futon.
The floor, though golden-colored, was smooth wood, and the exit of the room was equipped not with a gate but with a sliding door, made of the same golden-colored wood.
There were no paintings at all—neither pictures nor artifacts that gave a hint of where he was.
Just a simple, wooden-focused room.
But Ryuk didn’t need to strain his eyes too much before he caught sight of the irregularities.
Seemingly hidden perfectly in this otherwise ordinary-looking room were golden runes.
They were drawn across the entire wooden flooring, across even the walls, and the same held for the ceilings, radiating soft motes of golden light.
Ryuk’s eyes turned to look at the wood he sat on, and he could see that the same golden runic lines were present.
The same was true even with the mattress he used to cover himself.
His hands moved, trailing down one of the runes, and his eyebrows knitted as he muttered,
"Energy Restricting Runes..."
These runes were usually what was placed in the chains binding prisoners and locking down their use of energy.
And these same runes covered the entirety of where Ryuk was.
Like a prisoner’s house—except he wasn’t handcuffed in chains or bonded to the bed.
"I need to know where I am," he decided, moving to the edge of the bed and gently placing down his foot.
But when he removed his legs from under the mattress where they had been previously hidden, he paused, bewildered at their sight.
They seemed no different from how his previous legs looked—except whiter, and smoother—but beyond such qualities, what captivated him was the tattoo that stretched across his legs.
Coiling runic symbols that radiated invisible motes of shimmering purple energy into the space around him.
Ryuk pulled up his trousers, but even when he reached his knee, he noticed the rune continued deeper and deeper up his legs, continuing until it covered the entirety of his skin.
His back, hands, and even his neck weren’t spared.
But it wasn’t thick enough that it covered his entire body and made his skin invisible—it was like a coiling thread instead, wrapping around the majority of his skin and letting loose seemingly harmless motes of purple light.
Ryuk’s hand moved to his forearms and found the back of them also covered in those runes, although his fingers were spared.
He clenched and unclenched his hands—but surprisingly enough, he felt nothing.
The concept of strength or power wasn’t felt by him, giving him the same feeling as if he possessed no weight at all.
He rose to his feet, feeling his legs firm against the ground beneath him, and somehow, he could feel the motes of purple light around his legs’ tattoo seem to soften the impact of his legs against the wooden ground, making his steps nearly silent.
"Quite the interesting change," he muttered to himself as he took steps forward toward the wooden door, all while not making even the slightest of sounds.
Gripping the edge of the door, he slid it open before fully stepping out.
His hands moved after, faintly covering his face, as he felt some sting from the direct exposure to the sun.
"This only happens if I’ve remained too long within a room. Just how much time has passed?" he thought to himself, fully stepping out of the door.
On exit, he found himself standing in a garden.
A garden of green—and looking all around him, he saw towering mountains.
But beyond them, he could still see the tips of the golden buildings, which he recognized to be the main architectural design of most Ammamoran structures.
The realization that he was still present in Ammamora made him feel even lighter.
Stepping further out, his gaze roamed around a bit.
The room he had stepped in from was a solo one—the only one around the vicinity.
But he need not look far when he turned to the side, and just about a kilometer away, there was another solo building, and surprisingly enough, Ryuk’s ears picked up the sounds of steps moving toward that side.
He stood silently, and soon enough, the door was opened—and stepping out was an old-looking Fallen.
He was old, not because his hair was gray—no, they were golden. One of the brightest Ryuk had ever seen. Same for his eyes.
But his face held wrinkles, and in his hands was a staff, which seemed more for support than as a weapon.
When he stepped out, he wore his shoes, placed on a rack at the side, before turning his gaze straight to Ryuk.
His lips moved, and though no words came out, Ryuk could hear it as clear as day:
"You’re awake, Ryuk," he said, a wizened, old smile appearing on his wrinkled face.
Ryuk knew the last thing he could find funny right now was the face of a smiling Fallen Angel.
He was starting to hate every single one of them, as most Fallen Angels in Ammamora were insufferably arrogant, with more condescending smiles and gods-complexes than genuine smiles.
But the one before him leaned towards the latter.
It prompted Ryuk to take a step forward, walking toward the man, who also resumed walking toward him.