The old man sat cross-legged in the cold grass of the inner dimension, clouds of breath forming as time ticked silently on. The red tree above rustled gently, but it didn't comfort him.
His golden eyes were locked on the still body that lay at the heart of the dimension, wrapped in silence.
Matteo hadn't moved.
Two days.
He hadn't screamed. Hadn't stirred. Not even twitched.
The old man's expression was grim. Deep lines on his face now cut deeper, cast in the flickering starlight of the enclosed realm.
"Was I wrong?"
His voice barely left his lips. "Is this vessel… not suited after all?"
The dragonic rune had stirred violently when Matteo first entered. It had chosen him, in its own strange way.
But now it was silent.
Dormant.
The Rune sat unburned on the boy's chest, its shape flickering, unfinished. Refusing to take root.
Maybe… this body was a bust.
Not corrupted—but broken.
"He has potential… but perhaps no center to wield it."
The old man's thoughts spiraled.
He had so little time left. Yurisha was growing fast. The war would come. The Titans would return. The corruption would awaken. And he could not protect her forever.
He needed someone.
But maybe—
"Maybe I should have waited longer..."
He looked down at the boy again, lying unmoving in the grass like a discarded soul.
But...
He didn't pull Matteo out.
He waited.
Just a bit longer.
---
In Matteo's inner world. Or maybe it was the dragon's...
He was surrounded by nothing.
Just black.
Matteo sat curled in a void without light, cold to the touch, breath misting. No sky. No floor. No stars.
No mask.
His legs were pulled to his chest. His hand bled slowly from the burn left by the shattered conduit. It had cracked like glass in his palm when he failed to defeat the dragon.
Even the mad laughter inside his head was gone.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
His lips moved numbly.
"So… that's it."
He had failed.
And the world—whatever this world was—had taken the last from him. Just like the back on Earth.
No home. No place. No strength. And now... not even a name worth remembering.
He exhaled. It was ragged. A dry chuckle escaped his lips.
"I really... lost everything."
A shimmer of red light pulsed faintly in the far distance.
The void rippled.
Something was still watching him.
But it wasn't the dragon this time.
No—this presence was different. Subtler. Whisper-thin and closer.
Familiar.
He turned his head.
There it was.
Himself.
Standing in the dark across from him.
White hair. Purple eyes. Grinning. A hand in his coat pocket. The Mad Jester without the mask. The version of him that had always been chained.
"Yo," the figure said with a lopsided smirk.
Matteo didn't respond.
The version of himself walked forward slowly, footsteps echoing through the void. No madness in his step—just ease. Confidence.
Freedom.
"You really think this power came from the mask, huh?"
Matteo flinched.
His other self crouched, face inches from his own.
"That was just a door, you idiot." His tone was casual. "I'm you. Always was. Always will be."
The smirk faded.
"You put me in a cage because you didn't want to admit what kind of person you are. Because you were scared."
Matteo's throat dried.
His doppelgänger stood and looked down at him with something close to pity.
"You're not weak because you lack strength. You're weak because you think you're broken."
Silence.
Then:
"So let me ask you."
The void pulsed again.
"Do you want to live?"
Matteo gritted his teeth. "...Yes."
"Do you want power?"
"...Yes."
"Then stop lying to yourself."
Matteo clenched his fists, blood dripping from the wound.
"I'm not lying…"
"Then why do you hate me so much?"
The other him knelt again. "Why do you only bring me out when it's life or death?"
Matteo's voice cracked. "Because you're dangerous."
"No," the version of him said calmly, "I'm you without chains. You're afraid of your own strength. And until you stop being afraid… you'll always lose."
The world began to burn red.
The dragon's eyes glowed in the sky above the void, massive, celestial. Still watching. Still waiting.
"So," his other self whispered, standing now in a blaze of red and black flame.
"What's it gonna be, Matteo?"
"Are you going to keep wearing a mask?"
"Or are you going to become what you were meant to be?"