A swarm of frenzied entities was approaching.
Would his body preserve, though?
Inase choked on his breath. His head was spinning.
He couldn't die. Not until he was going to fulfill his long-lived goal.
Guess he had to suck it up, then.
Turning the tip of his knife towards himself, he sank the blade deep into his thigh. The sharp edge bit deep.
Pain bloomed hot and immediate, and with it came a rush of warmth that spread like fire through his veins.
A surge of energy hit him—raw, unnatural, but enough.
His pulse quickened. His vision cleared. The fog of exhaustion finally disappeared, even if just for a moment.
"Back from the dead, huh?"
A grin decorated his bloody countenance. Before him, the swarm was still coming.
He charged.
"Fine."
He ran straight into them—the ghosts of the past he had slain. Reanimated not by flesh, but by memory. Many of them. So many, in fact, that Inase had stopped counting.
"I'll entertain you once more!"
Inase leapt into the flooding horde.
He didn't hold back. Blade through an eye. Boot to the throat. Knife twisted in a skull.
The forest bent around him. More came.
A few dozen… A hundred… They poured out of the woods like an army of nightmares.
Everything he'd ever fought. He was there to bury them again.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
"Inase..."
Another down. Then another. And another.
"Inase..."
The whispers tried to stop him.
He tore through them like a storm, his blade flashing, his body moving faster than his mind.
He thought—then stopped. Thinking was for people who had time.
His mind had gone quiet, slipped into a trance or something close to it. His rationality was gone, buried under pain and blood.
What remained was instinct.
Preservation.
No fear. No hesitation. Only survival.
"Inase..."
His body burned, every nerve screaming. His breath came in ragged gasps, his lungs were on fire, but his blade never stopped.
Slash. Step. Rip. Kick.
Blood flooded the earth. Theirs. His. All the same now. It mixed on the ground into one big puddle until it didn't matter whose it was.
"Inase..."
The whispers continued.
He was already past his limits.
The horrors didn't stop.
He didn't stop either.
He couldn't.
His body moved on its own, muscle memory guiding each strike.
"Inase... Inase... Inase..."
The whispers chanted.
It was futile. He ignored them.
Locked into a stalemate, until either he or all of his enemies drop dead.
He was not giving in. Never. Not against the ghosts of the past. Ragged, tattered, wounded, but still fighting strong.
Kill or be killed.
So he killed. And all of them, he remembered.
Adrenaline pumped in his veins. It felt good.
He was high on the thrill like a warrior on the frontlines. A storm. A berserker. A god of war, bathed in the blood of his enemies.
He couldn't hold it in.
In the moment of elation, Inase sucked in fresh air and roared.
A raw, guttural sound tore up his dry throat.
Hands clenched in fists. Veins bulged.
An exhilarating chill electrified him.
He felt alive.
He went for another creature. Split it in half—
Then—she appeared.
"Inase."
Through the chorus of whispers, her voice pierced.
Only then did his body freeze.
"..."
He heard it clearly. He could never forget it.
His features clouded with disbelief, an eyebrow lifted in confusion.
Walking through the fog… was her.
The slow echo of her heels clicking was as familiar as the sound of his own heartbeat. So recognizable, he could never forget it.
His gaze locked onto her silhouette. He refused to look away.
She looked exactly as she did back then—cold, calm, distant, just like he remembered back then. Eyes, far too sharp for someone in her late teens, cutting through him like she could see the smallest fracture in his soul.
Elegant, yet authoritative. There was something royal in the way she held herself, as if the world itself should part for her to walk through.
Her deep crimson shirt was etched into his memory ever since the day she had vanished.
Forever.
The last entity attacked from behind—one slash, and it fell under Inase's blade. Its corpse collapsed onto a pile beneath his feet, before all turned to ash, leaving only her.
"To think that illusions would force you to appear too…"
His blade trembled just for a second. Then, his grip tightened as he swung at her throat like a butcher.
"Begone, specter."
But she stayed. Untouched, like she wasn't an illusion.
Unlike other creatures, she didn't attack—only turned her back on him.
Even without seeing her face clearly, he knew she was staring at him the same way she always did—like he was still just a weak little boy.
"You can't kill me."
Her quiet voice hit like a blade to the heart, cold and distant, freezing anyone who heard it.
He, however, was used to it.
"Do you want to prove me wrong?"
Against the hesitation clawing at his mind, Inase lunged forward—ready to cut her image in half.
But when he blinked, her blonde locks were nowhere to be found. The specter wasn't there.
Like always, she didn't move until he chased her. And like always, once he caught up to her back, she slipped away, leaving him with that familiar, bitter emptiness.
He admired her, but her cold expectations had always crushed him. She made him feel small, like no matter how strong he became, it would never be enough.
A part of him longed for her approval, another part hated the leash she had wrapped around his soul.
She reappeared beside him, holding onto his shoulder.
"Remember, Inase… No matter how much you struggle in this world, you will always end up alone."
Her voice curled into his ear like smoke, intoxicating and suffocating all at once.
It paralyzed him.
The same words. The ones she said back then. Words that had never stopped echoing in his mind.
Melancholy filled his chest, or maybe it was nostalgia?
She was a great woman, after all. Her achievements had left a mark on the history of research, saving many people from their era. She was amazing… but at the same time, her presence tormented him.
It pressured him. He'd spent years in her shadow—unable to escape—and somewhere along the way, he'd stopped asking himself why he was following her footsteps at all…?
Always alone…
The spark in his eyes dimmed through the realization.
"...!"
Inase flinched and shook his head violently. He couldn't let her—no, it—weaken him.
There was no time to be sentimental in this forest of illusions.
"SHUT UP!" What was this mirage to mess with his head anyway?
He turned sharply, slicing through her phantom with everything he had left.
"Don't you dare say it in her voice," he growled, eyes locked and certain. "Not with her face."
The fog split, taking her image with it—the very reason he had become a time agent.
"I will decide about what's good for me."
The illusions flickered out at last, along with the last smile of her dark red lips.
In his head, he finally admitted it.
He lied. He knew he did. When that eyepatch weirdo had asked why he agreed to time-diving, he'd claimed it was for the thrill.
Saving the world? He hardly believed it was possible. Not with the world too far gone like theirs.
He wasn't hopeful, nor that delusional. Others had it worse than him, so he was satisfied with whatever luxury he already had.
The truth was, all he wanted was to find her.
…but who had to know that he was doing it for a personal reason anyway?
Silence fell, broken only by his heavy breaths.
"..."
He wiped his sweaty forehead with a filthy sleeve. His jacket was already ruined; he might as well dirty it some more… or not?
Seemed like his wounds and the blood had evaporated along with the illusion; only the red mist still crept around.
"Bringing my past up, you sure are unfair, you bastard tree."
He exhaled.
"You're gonna regret it."
He already planned to burn its twisted branches for fuel and use its trunk to barricade the hole in his hideout wall once he brings it back with him.
Suddenly—cough.
Blood burst from his throat.
At first, he didn't notice—the red fog had thickened until it smothered his vision. The one like a poison to the environment. Inase was too self-absorbed to realize it was already circling him.
Cough, cough!
A violent cough. The blood came harder, forcing its way up. His lungs felt as though they were flooding.
Another breath made it worse—blood streamed from his nose, ears, and eyes, every orifice a conduit for the poison seeping into him.
Inase was in danger, yet he stubbornly prevailed.
He had to get out of here. Fast.
But how?
Every direction was the same—redness obscured his vision. On the left, fog. On the right, fog. Whenever he looked around, he was blinded.
He continued to struggle, rubbing the blood out of his eyes, trying to shield himself. His legs wavered, yet he forced himself to move, stumbling until his back hit a hard, uneven surface.
A tree.
Thick and big. He used it to balance himself when his fingers grazed over a sudden dip. He touched along the crevasse to reveal,
Ah, it's an X—a faint carving still lingered.
The mark they had left when they first came here. A little faded with time, but still recognizable.
That way.
Now, he knew the path.
"Thanks, partner," he whispered, locating another mark in a straight line.
Preparing himself, he darted with everything he had left. He ran. Every muscle in his legs felt sore. Trying to escape, he followed the markings.
He gave it all—dodging roots, tearing through bushes, leaping over branches that clawed at his clothes. It didn't matter, as long as he could burst free.
With his final strength, he leapt out, saving his eyes from melting.
The predatory fog recoiled, losing its prey.
He escaped—!
"At last!"
Inase collapsed to the ground, chest heaving.
Then, he sucked in the fresh air. One that stayed clear of toxicity, and… he let out a victorious shout.
A scream that tore through the silence, scattering every animal within five kilometers.
Loud and clear.
A triumph. A scream that tore the silence apart.
Letting the world know—he survived.