Nyx was floating in a strange, weightless state, drifting around what looked like a run-down apartment room. But his surroundings meant nothing to him. Not right now. Because in front of him, something far more important was unfolding—something that froze every part of his soul.
"So, where are we gonna go?" a girl asked with a playful smile tugging at her lips as she leaned back on the sofa. She gazed at the boy standing a few feet away, who was busy stuffing clothes into a worn-out backpack.
"Somewhere far... far from here. A place where we can finally live out the rest of our lives together. How does that sound?" the boy replied, grinning as he turned to face her.
"You're being romantic, Nyx. That's rare for you," she teased, crossing her arms as she watched him with amusement.
Nyx turned with exaggerated shock, raising an eyebrow. "And Sarah, how am I not romantic, huh?"
"If you didn't curse like a sailor, you'd be plenty romantic," she said with a smirk.
"If you don't curse, you'll always be romantic," echoed another voice—Nyx's own. The current Nyx, the one floating above them, repeated the line without even realizing it, his lips moving in sync with the past.
"All packed. Let's go," the younger Nyx said, grabbing the duffel and holding his hand out.
"Sure," Sarah replied as she took his arm, and the two walked out the door, ready to leave behind everything that had chained them down.
They booked a cab and waited on the corner of the street, laughter bubbling quietly between them. But peace was a luxury life rarely let Nyx have. Without warning, several men appeared, approaching with guns and blades in hand, their intent written in blood.
"Shit... not now," Nyx muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on Sarah's hand. He didn't hesitate. He just ran.
They sprinted through the narrow alleyways, hearts pounding, feet slamming against the pavement. But escape wasn't in the cards. The attackers closed in fast, cutting off every path until they were completely surrounded.
"You can leave, Nyx. Our business is with this bitch," one of the thugs sneered, stepping forward with a gun aimed directly at Sarah.
Nyx stepped between them without blinking. "Take another step and I swear—"
But that only enraged them more. They rushed in, grabbing Nyx and dragging him away from Sarah. He fought, teeth bared, fists flying, but there were too many. Blow after blow landed until he was barely conscious, slumped to the ground like a discarded doll.
When he finally forced his eyes open, dazed and bloodied, the sight in front of him shattered what was left of his sanity.
"SAARAAAHHHH!!"
Her body was crumpled on the pavement, stabbed more times than he could count. Blood spilled from her like her soul had already moved on.
Nyx staggered toward her, collapsing to his knees and cradling her in his arms, his hands trembling as they brushed the blood from her face.
"Wake up... please wake up... You promised, remember? We said we'd leave together..."
But she didn't move. Her breathing was shallow, fading.
And then—a heartbeat. Faint. Barely there, but real.
Grabbing onto that last shred of hope, Nyx bolted, cradling her against his chest as he sprinted into the streets, screaming for help. His clothes were soaked with her blood, his vision blurry from panic and tears.
He didn't stop. Not for traffic. Not for sirens. Not for anything. But fate? Fate has a cruel sense of humor.
Because while Nyx was out begging the world to save her, Sarah opened her eyes. She was barely alive. Her vision was foggy, her breaths shallow. But what she saw made everything worse.
Nyx. Running away.
Her heart sank further than any blade could pierce. Disgust. Betrayal. Pain.
By the time Nyx returned, dragging a medic and shouting for help, her body had already started turning cold. Her skin pale. Her eyes distant.
He dropped to the ground beside her, lifting her head into his lap, rubbing her hands, pleading with her to stay.
And she opened her eyes one last time. But there was no love in them. Only contempt.
"You coward... you never change," she whispered.
"Did it feel good? Leaving me to die?"
"I regret everything... stepping forward for someone like you."
"No—no, please... That's not what happened—I was getting help—I didn't run! Please, Sarah, believe me—"
But she was already gone.
Nyx screamed. Loud. Broken. The sound ripped through the air, raw and primal.
The floating Nyx, the present one, could only watch in horror. His knees curled to his chest as he floated helplessly in that memory, eyes wide, hands clawing at his face as if he could gouge the images out of his skull.
"No... please stop it. Stop... I said STOP!"
It had all happened so fast that Nyx didn't even have time to register it—one moment he was holding onto hope, the next, it was slipping through his fingers like sand in a storm. His dreams, his promises, his future with her… all of it crumbled in the blink of an eye. Everything he'd fought for, everything he'd believed in, everything that had given him a reason to crawl out of that damned gutter—it shattered right there with her final breath. And in its place, there was nothing but silence, blood, and a curse he couldn't erase.
He begged for the memory to vanish. But it wouldn't. Because this wasn't a dream.
This was the past—the one he never wanted to see again. The one he had buried. And now, it was back. In full force.
Nyx clenched his eyes shut as tightly as he could, as if darkness alone could shield him from the weight pressing against his soul, but it didn't help—not even a little. The moment he opened them again, he found himself standing in that same pitch-black void, the kind that had no exit, no edges, no end.
And in front of him, the mission screen flickered into existence—silent, unblinking, merciless.
[**MISSION PANEL**]
Objective: Prove Yourself
Condition: Overcome your past. Accept yourself.
Time Limit: ---
Reward: Unlocking Phase-2, System Upgrade
Failure Penalty: Death and Soul Annihilation
---
He stared at the screen. Empty. Wordless. Like his mind had stopped knowing how to even feel.
Then, slowly—too slowly—a sound escaped him. A laugh. Soft. Shaky. Hollow. And before long, it twisted into something else entirely—something wild. Something manic.
"Overcome my past, huh?" he said, voice crackling with something far beyond anger. "You got a lotta balls, tossing therapy buzzwords at me like that, you glorified AI paperweight."
He stepped forward, snarling.
"It isn't something your cold, coded ass could ever understand. So don't pretend you get it. Don't you fucking dare."
[Complete the mission, Host.]
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Nyx roared. "YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME HOW TO FIX MYSELF!"
That's when the voice came.
Smooth. Familiar. Contemptuous.
"Y'know, for all that rage, you sound like you're already broken. Maybe more than I thought."
Nyx turned on a dime, rage sharpening into something lethal.
And there he was.
The other him.
The original Nyx Vaelthorn. Dressed clean. Standing tall. Looking every bit like the son of a noble family who'd never had to crawl through the dirt just to survive.
Nyx lunged.
He slammed into him, driving him to the floor with a snarl, his fists raining down like thunder. Over and over. The impact echoed in the blackness like drumbeats from hell.
"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH! YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT ME!"
But then the voice came again. From behind him.
"Still reacting like a cornered animal. You're pathetic."
Another version of him. Walking calmly through the void, as if none of this meant a damn thing.
Nyx's eyes flared wide, bloodshot and trembling.
"React? You wanna talk to me about reacting?!"
He turned, teeth bared, fury unleashed.
"You know what I did, huh?! DO YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT I DID?!"
He stalked toward the figure now, voice rising with every breath.
"I KILLED THEM. ALL OF THEM. EVERY FUCKING LAST ONE WHO TOUCHED HER."
"I SLIT THEIR GODDAMN THROATS. I DROWNED THEM. I BURNED THEM. I RIPPED THEIR FUCKING ORGANS OUT AND LAUGHED WHILE DOING IT. YOU WANNA COMPARE OUR PAIN?!"
His chest heaved. His face twisted into a grin that didn't know if it belonged to a man or a monster.
"And what did you do, huh?! Sat around crying with a bottle in your hand while your mommy and daddy bled out in front of you? FUCK YOU."
"You didn't even TRY. So don't you ever—EVER—compare your soft-ass pain to mine."
Then, dead serious, he said:
"If this bullshit 'trial' means I have to accept that fucker… then go ahead, system. Kill me."
"Because I'd rather burn in oblivion than ever become him."
He didn't flinch. Didn't back down.
Why would he? He never expected mercy. Never expected redemption.
The moment that scene replayed before his eyes—her dying, the memory that never stopped bleeding—he knew hope was already gone.
And the system, just as merciless as ever, answered on cue.
[MISSION FAILURE! Initiating Soul Annihilation…]