The world outside the screen was too bright.
Majiku squinted against the sunlight pouring through the classroom window. The teacher's voice droned faintly in the background, chalk scraping against the board, the faint rustle of notebooks turning like the sighs of ghosts. Around him, the other children laughed, whispered, lived.
He sat alone, staring at the corner of his desk, tracing invisible lines with his finger. His thoughts weren't here. They were there — in the mist, in the sound of crackling fire, in the voice that had told him about The Cult of Immortality.
"They're taking people's consciousness — trapping them here."
Kael's words wouldn't leave his mind. Neither would the image of the monster they had fought — the Leviathan's eyes had been blank, hollow, and eerily human. Like something wearing the shape of despair.
Majiku hadn't slept properly since. When he closed his eyes, he saw code and mist and faces he didn't understand. Sometimes he thought he heard whispers — like data calling his name in the dark.
He told himself it was nothing. He told himself he wasn't afraid. But the truth was, something about that cult felt familiar.
Almost like it had been born from him.
The School Day
"Majiku, are you even listening?"
The teacher's voice snapped him back to reality. He blinked and looked up, startled.
"Y-yes, ma'am," he mumbled.
The class laughed softly. He could feel their eyes — amused, distant, pitying. The teacher sighed and went back to writing on the board, muttering something about "lost causes."
Majiku looked down again. His notebook was blank.
He clenched his pencil so tightly it snapped. A few kids snickered. He didn't react. Instead, he stared at the broken wood between his fingers, his pulse pounding in his ears.
It was strange. The more time he spent in Eien, the less real this world felt. The noise, the faces, the laughter — all of it seemed shallow, like a poorly rendered background. And every time someone looked at him, he couldn't help but feel that they were the illusions, not him.
He wanted to log back in. To go back to where the mist was thick and the voices kind. But deep down, a quiet fear stopped him. What if The Cult of Immortality was waiting for him there?
The Feeling
At lunch, Majiku sat on the rooftop. The city stretched out below, gray and distant. Wind brushed against his hair, and for a moment, he could almost smell the forests of Eien.
He thought about Kael's words again. "Trapping them here."
What if that's what happened to him? What if he wasn't supposed to come back the first time — when he glitched and woke up? What if Eien had already claimed him once?
His fingers trembled as he held his bento box. He hadn't eaten breakfast, and now even the sight of food made him nauseous. His stomach twisted, his chest tightening as an invisible dread crawled up his spine.
He could almost hear a whisper — faint, mechanical.
"We are you."
Majiku froze.
He looked around, but the rooftop was empty. The sound wasn't real. It couldn't be. But it lingered, curling around his mind like static.
"We are you."
His throat went dry. He grabbed his bag and ran, pushing through the rooftop door and down the stairwell, his running footsteps echoing through the empty halls.
After School
By the time he got home, the sun had already set. His parents weren't there. They rarely were anymore. The apartment was cold, the air heavy with the faint smell of cigarettes and old noodles.
Majiku stood in the middle of his room, staring at the VR headset sitting on his desk. The faint green light blinked at him like an eye — always awake, always watching.
He took a deep breath.
"...If I'm wrong, then I'll know."
And he put it on.
The Return to Eien
The world of Eien bloomed around him — mist swirling, colors unfolding like a dream. The familiar wind whispered through his cloak, the faint hum of magic pulsing in the distance.
He was back in his older body again — tall, strong, the emblem of The Misty Three glowing faintly on his cloak. He exhaled, steadying himself. His fear hadn't gone away. It had only sharpened.
The campfire still burned near the ruins. Mira was tending to it, humming softly. Ryn was sharpening his daggers. Kael stood at the edge of the clearing, staring into the fog.
When they saw Majiku, Mira smiled warmly."Hey, you're back. We were starting to worry. "Majiku tried to smile. "Sorry. I had… things to do."
Kael turned slightly. "You look pale. Something wrong kid?" Majiku hesitated. "Maybe. I don't know."
He sat down by the fire, staring into the flames. "I've been thinking about The Cult."
That got their attention. Ryn looked up, curious. "What about them?" Majiku swallowed hard. "What if… they're not what we think they are?"
Mira tilted her head. "You mean, not just some rogue guild?" "Yeah. What if they're… something else? Something born from the game itself."Kael frowned. "Go on."
Majiku stared at his reflection in the firelight — the flicker of orange across his tired eyes. "When we fought the Leviathan, did you notice how it looked? Like it was… human. "Ryn shrugged. "All monsters look weird." "No," Majiku insisted, voice trembling. "It looked sad. Like it wanted to stop fighting. Like it wasn't supposed to exist."
The others exchanged uneasy glances.
He continued, voice low. "What if The Cult of Immortality isn't trying to take over the game? What if they are the game? What if they're what's left of people who lost themselves here?"
Mira's smile faded. Kael's eyes darkened.
"That's just a theory," Ryn said, forcing a laugh. "Right? You're just… guessing."
Majiku shook his head slowly. "When I was at school today, I felt them. I heard them. They whispered to me."
Kael stepped closer, his tone suddenly sharp. "You what?" "I heard them," Majiku repeated. "They said… 'We are you.'"
The campfire cracked, and the sound seemed to echo longer than it should have. Even the mist around them seemed to hold its breath.
The Mist Tightens
Kael crouched beside him. "Listen to me. You need to rest. The Cult preys on fear — they use it to make you doubt what's real. That's their strength."
Majiku looked up at him. "But what if they're not trying to scare us? What if they're trying to remind us?"
"Of what?" Mira asked quietly.
Majiku met her gaze. "Of who we were before we logged in."
For a long time, no one spoke.
Finally, Kael stood and turned away. "Enough. We'll investigate tomorrow. For now, no one goes near the lower data fields."
"But—" "That's an order."
Majiku bit his lip. Kael's voice wasn't angry, just firm — like a persons tone when protecting somebody. It hurt more than he expected.
He nodded weakly. "Understood."
Midnight in Eien
That night, Majiku couldn't sleep. The fire had burned low, the mist curling closer to the camp like a living thing. Mira and Ryn were asleep; Kael stood watch, as always, silent and steady.
Majiku rose quietly and walked into the fog. The air was cold, and every sound felt distant — like the world was holding itself together just enough to let him move.
He stopped near the ruins, where the stones were covered in glowing script. When he reached out, the symbols pulsed beneath his fingers.
"Welcome back, Traveler…"
The voice was different now. Not warm, not human — hollow, layered with static. He took a step back. "Who's there?"
No answer. Just the sound of the mist moving, whispering. Then — faintly, impossibly — he saw something in the fog.
A figure.
It looked like him. But not the older version — not the older self. It was his real self. The seven-year-old child, standing barefoot in the mist, eyes dull and sad.
Majiku's heart stopped."...Me?"
The kid smiled faintly, tilting his head.
"We are you."
Majiku stumbled backward. "No… you're not real."
But the kid only pointed to the glowing runes.
"We are what's left when you stop hoping. We are the parts of you that stayed."
The mist swallowed him whole, leaving only silence.
Majiku fell to his knees, shaking. The words echoed in his skull like a curse.We are the parts of you that stayed.
Was that what The Cult of Immortality really was? Not a group of players… but fragments of broken hearts — digital ghosts made from despair?
The Confession
The next day, he told them everything.
They sat around the fire again, the morning light cutting through the mist. Majiku's voice trembled as he spoke, his hands clenched tight.
"I saw myself. The real me. In the mist. He said the Cult is… me. Or maybe people like me."
Ryn laughed weakly. "That doesn't make sense. "Mira didn't laugh. She looked at him with pity. "Maybe it makes more sense than we want it to."
Kael's jaw tightened. "You think this cult was born from people's pain?"Majiku nodded slowly. "From despair. From hearts that couldn't take the real world anymore. Maybe the game took that sadness and made something out of it. Something that can't die."
Kael stared at him for a long time — and for the briefest second, Majiku thought he saw recognition in his eyes. Pain. Regret.
Then Kael said softly, "You shouldn't have had to carry that kind of thought, kid."
Majiku looked down. "It's all I ever carried."
Silence again. Mira wiped at her eyes when she thought no one was looking. Ryn kicked at the dirt, mumbling curses under his breath.
Finally, Kael stood. "Then we'll face them. Together."
He reached out a hand toward Majiku. The child hesitated, then took it. The digital contact sent a strange warmth through his heart — not physical, but real enough to make him forget for a moment that it was all code.
The Final Scene
Later that night, after they'd set off toward the darker lands where The Cult was rumored to gather, Majiku paused at the edge of a ridge. Below them stretched a field of light — data waves shimmering like an ocean of glass. In the distance, strange figures moved in the fog, humming softly.
He could almost hear them calling to him again.
"We are you."
He turned to Kael, Mira, and Ryn, who were watching him silently. "Even if that's true," he said quietly, "then I'll face them. Because if they're me… then maybe I can save them."
Kael nodded once. "Then we'll help you do it."
Majiku smiled faintly. The fear was still there, but it didn't control him anymore.For the first time, he felt something close to courage.
As they descended into the mist, their emblems glowed brighter — three points of gold cutting through endless gray.
And somewhere, far away, in a small dark room in the real world, a seven-year-old kid slept with the faintest smile on his face — dreaming of the family he didn't know he already had.
End of Episode 3 — "Echoes of the Cult"