Silence.
Not the comfortable stillness of an empty room, nor the hushed quiet of a breath held in anticipation—
This was true silence.
The kind that pressed against the edges of existence, swallowing thoughts before they could be formed.
Klein stood alone in the void.
Or at least—he thought he was standing.
His body felt weightless, undefined, like he was a sketch half-erased from reality.
His own name echoed in his mind, but it felt distant, unattached, like a memory that did not belong to him.
He tried to think—tried to ground himself.
But the moment he focused, something shifted.
His thoughts slipped, unraveled, as if they had never existed to begin with.
—
The Name That Wasn't There
Time had no meaning here.
It could have been seconds. It could have been centuries.
Klein reached out.
There was nothing to touch.
He spoke, but no sound came.
He was losing himself.
And then—
A voice.
Soft, distant, yet undeniably real.
"Klein."
The name struck him like lightning.
His thoughts snapped back into place.
His body solidified—his limbs, his breath, his heartbeat—all returning in a single, jarring instant.
Klein gasped, falling to his knees.
The weight of existence crashed down on him, sharp and suffocating.
And before him—
A figure stood.
—
The Figure That Should Not Be
They had no face.
No features.
Only a shifting, blurred outline, as if their very presence was unwritten.
But Klein knew them.
Or rather—
He knew what they used to be.
Something ancient. Something forgotten.
Something that had been erased—like him.
The figure tilted its head, watching him in silence.
Then, it raised a hand.
A motion that sent a ripple through the void—
And suddenly, Klein could hear.
The silence broke.
—
The Words That Couldn't Be Read
A whisper filled the air, incomprehensible yet strangely familiar.
It was not a sound.
It was a presence.
A knowledge that pressed against the edges of his mind, demanding to be understood.
And Klein—
He understood.
This place was not nothingness.
It was a space between realities, between fates—
A realm where unwritten things lingered.
A graveyard of concepts that had been erased.
And the figure before him—
It was like him.
A remnant of something that should not exist.
The whisper grew louder.
The figure stepped forward, its formless shape beginning to solidify.
Klein tensed.
And then—
The figure spoke.
"You are not supposed to be here."
—
The Reality That Rejected Him
The words sent a shockwave through Klein's being.
It was not a statement.
It was a truth.
A fundamental law that the world had tried to enforce upon him.
And yet—he was here.
He had broken through.
He had refused to be erased.
The figure watched him, silent once more.
A challenge.
A question.
Klein exhaled, steadying himself.
Then, he lifted his gaze and spoke—
"Neither were you."
For the first time, the figure reacted.
The space shuddered, twisted—
And Klein felt it.
Something beneath the void.
Something that had been waiting.
Something that was awake.
The figure took another step forward, and Klein knew—
The real fight had just begun.
---
End of Chapter 77.
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