||"What are you willing to sacrifice?"||
||"What are you willing to sacrifice?"||
Those questions echoed again and again in Draven's mind.
A question so simple, yet so tangled—one he needed to answer to mend his life.
What could he truly give that held value equal to his own existence?
What did he have that matched the worth of his life?
Was his life even worth saving?
Just minutes before the voice spoke, Draven believed death was the better choice over witnessing the world's end.
Yet, at the very moment he resolved to give up, a divine opportunity appeared.
Faced with such unprecedented interference and a question that demanded an answer, Draven sank into a river of his own thoughts.
His mind wandered for a long time, but not a single answer was found.
||"What are you willing to sacrifice?"||
Once again, the voice appeared—its origin unknown, but its tone carried a powerful and divine note.
As the question arrived once more, Draven grew curious and asked in turn, for he could not find an answer yet.
"What exactly must I sacrifice?"
Following his question was an unusual stillness that spread across the whole world as if time paused. The noise outside seemed to cease, as though all activity had come to an abrupt halt.
||"What do you cherish the most, aside from your life?"||
"What do I cherish the most?" Draven murmured, confused.
||"Offer me an object or a memory—anything your heart holds dear; something born of your own blood, sweat, and tears."||
The voice responded, and Draven once again fell into deep pondering, repeating its exact words while his heart sought an answer.
His eyes scanned the room while his mind recalled every detail of his boring life, searching for something worth sacrificing.
And then his eyes fell on a small golden trophy lying on the ground close to where his bed had stood.
Spotting the trophy, a sharp glint appeared on Draven's face as he began walking toward it.
The pain from the wound on his back became even more unbearable as he walked. The burning sensation and stinging pain combined into a torturous experience no human would wish on an enemy. Draven wanted nothing but to rid himself of this agony.
A few steps later, Draven stood before the trophy.
His gaze lingered on the small golden prize as he began to recall the memories surrounding it.
His mind replayed an event he would never forget—the only victory he had ever claimed in his miserable life, one he achieved in his first year at Starmap Academy.
He had been chosen to represent the school at an interstate science competition alongside its brightest students.
Draven outperformed every competitor, topping the leaderboard with a score more than ten marks ahead of the runner-up.
The trophy symbolized his dedication and hard work, a reminder of the one day the world finally let him win.
It was also the last time he saw his best friend and secret crush, who represented another academy and placed third in the final round.
Draven was constantly reminded of that happy event each time his eyes fell on the trophy. Thus, it was something he held close to his heart.
And right now, he was willing to sacrifice this trophy in a bid to cure himself of the zombie virus.
Draven squatted to pick up the trophy. As he bent, the stinging pain from the wound became even stronger, sending powerful signals of agony to his brain and causing a brief migraine.
But Draven gritted his teeth to manage the pain and successfully picked up the trophy.
Now holding the trophy that encompassed so many joyful memories, Draven made a final resolution to sacrifice it to this unknown being.
"I want to sacrifice this trophy," he said in a low tone.
Although he had finalized his decision, his heart still ached at the thought of never seeing this trophy again.
||"Brilliant choice, but are you willing to sacrifice this?"||
Draven gazed at the trophy, taking in every detail for the last time before nodding and answering, "Yes."
Just as he spoke, the atmosphere in the room took a sudden, noticeable shift.
Draven released his focus from the trophy and observed his room, which suddenly became as chilly as winter. A confused expression won on his face.
Just then, his gaze landed on something strange and magical not far from his position.
Out of thin air, broken glass shards appeared.
The glass shards were of varying sizes and shapes.
After appearing, they began drifting softly toward his position, clicking and tinkling like distant chimes in the quiet room.
Draven took several cautious steps back.
But the voice quickly instructed him to stay still, for the glass shards were important and a direct result of his sacrifice.
Draven swallowed nervously and remained rooted as his gaze remained fixated on the shards drifting softly in his direction.
And finally, they came to a halt.
The scattered glass shards began arranging themselves automatically, quickly forming an object resembling a mirror.
However, unlike actual mirrors, these did not reflect what was in front of them.
Its surface was dark and somewhat cloudy—a strange sight to behold.
||"Bring the trophy in front of the Mirror of Souls."||
The voice instructed.
Draven was silent and immobile for a few seconds as his brain registered the mysterious encounter.
As he realized the voice wasn't deceiving him and that he truly had to let go of his prized trophy, sadness welled up inside him.
But he had no choice.
Heaving a final sigh, Draven lifted his hands and brought the trophy in front of the Mirror of Souls.
The instant his trophy was mere centimeters from the floating Mirror of Souls, something happened.
A hand stretched out of the Mirror of Souls and snatched the trophy from Draven's grasp.
The hand's appearance was snappy, Draven caught only a short glimpse before it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
Draven's gaze settled on the Mirror of Souls, and what occurred next greatly surprised him.
There, on the Mirror of Souls' screen—his own memories were replayed for him to see.
The scene of the event.
The moment he was declared as the winner.
The moment the trophy was handed to him.
The face of his best friend and crush, smiling beautifully at him.
Draven's breath caught as tears welled in his eyes. He watched the Mirror of Souls reveal every hopeful smile, every hurried step toward the stage, every proud beat of his heart.
He saw himself in that moment—young, eager, believing the world could be kind to him.
||"Your sacrifice has been accepted"||