The battle had ended, and a ghostly silence returned to that forsaken place.
There was no sign of the half-ruined structure—only a vast crater remained.
At its center stood a small mound, blanketed in wildflowers.
That fragile beauty, in stark contrast to its surroundings, gleamed like a rare gem among ash and decay.
Tahin was the only one standing.
He had regained his sense of self, yet in doing so, the phantom had died—
And so, he had no understanding of what had truly happened.
Confused and uneasy, he looked around.
The landscape before him had changed so drastically, it no longer felt familiar.
The stench of blood, rot, and wildflower perfume mingled together,
creating a bittersweet, sometimes sharp aroma.
Tahin pinched his nose.
"Ugh… this smell is unbearable... What happened here?"
Sadly, the group was in poor shape.
Aylin and Zach lay unconscious. Joshua was barely awake.
Billy, stunned, couldn't even move his lips to speak.
And Karina...
Her condition was stranger still—like a faded memory resting in a bed of wild roses.
She didn't just look five...
She was five years old.
Tahin stared, puzzled.
"I think… she used to be ten… so how is this possible? She looks much smaller now…"
He didn't know what to do.
He had no useful knowledge, no one to turn to.
He felt like a stranger… not just to the group, but to this entire world.
All he had left was self-blame.
"Why… why don't I have any memories? Why am I so useless… I couldn't help anyone…
I wish I'd just died on that desolate plain…"
He clutched his chest.
His heart tormented him—a pain boiling inside, with no clear origin, or one he simply couldn't name.
He wanted to scream, just to feel calm again.
But fear devoured his voice.
His face was pale as chalk; black veins of despair clawed beneath his eyes.
Tahin felt utterly alone.
He swallowed his sorrow and stared into the endless void—
a place that didn't exist,
and was drowning in the absence of self.
There was one thing that disturbed him deeply and left a quiet terror on his soul:
The moment he regained consciousness,
he remembered the gray mist that swallowed the phantom's heart.
That mist... felt strangely familiar—and unfamiliar.
Like the echo of a forgotten memory.
---
"Where am I… why does everything feel so hollow?
It's like I'm trapped inside a giant box… and I'm the only thing in it…
It's so dark… oh… what is that point?
It looks far away… I can barely move in here.
It's like I'm floating in a vast space…
Maybe if I reach forward… there, that's better.
Now I can move more easily…
Should I go and see what that light is?
Yes… this place is endless and dark, like a void…
Maybe something's there…"
"I see it now… damn… what is that?"
His hands trembled and his heart thundered.
Another version of him was here.
At first, he thought he was hallucinating—
but as he got closer,
he realized it was exactly him.
"You… who are you?"
No answer.
A strange feeling stirred.
It didn't feel like himself.
That body wasn't thin or frail—
it was strong, sculpted, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline carved like marble.
"Is that… really me?"
It felt like gazing into a future—or maybe a past—version of himself.
Yet something was different.
Wounds and scars covered the other body.
Where had they come from?
If that was a past self, then why didn't he bear those marks?
Or maybe this was his future form…
But if not him…
then what was it?
His heartbeat thundered—a deep warning surged from within, telling him to stay away.
But why?
Suddenly, the two heartbeats synchronized—
beating as one,
not with anxiety, but with strange anticipation.
He realized he'd misread the feeling.
He didn't understand what it meant.
An unfamiliar whisper echoed in his mind, pulsing like a second heartbeat.
No matter how hard he tried,
he couldn't understand the words…
And then—everything faded like smoke on the wind.
He awoke once again.
...
Tahin was staring into the horizon when a deafening sound jolted him.
Crack—crack…
The wall of massive roots, partly destroyed by the energy blast, began to transform.
To survive,
the strong devoured the weak
and were reborn.
Violet veins slithered through the brown roots,
and green transparent liquid—like droplets of dew—slid down their surface, healing the damaged areas.
The roots' twitching tendrils began to fight among themselves.
Those with open mouths consumed the weaker ones,
then shed their skin like serpents—
a dull, checkered shell with black and white lines.
When the shedding ended, they grew larger.
Tahin was unsettled by this brutal side of nature.
But this world was no place for peace.
Even if you hid in some quiet corner,
its cruelty would seek you out like a mouse in a trap—
dragging you toward death.
There was only one way forward:
Fight and keep moving.