The mist was still.
Kael and Majiku sat by the remnants of the fire, neither speaking. The flames had burned low, replaced by a faint blue glow that pulsed like a heartbeat. The world around them seemed to hold its breath — waiting, watching.
Majiku still couldn't believe it.
Even after the tears, after the truth, after hearing Kael say his name — his real name — it all felt unreal. His heart was full, but fragile. Like glass after an earthquake.
Finally, Kael spoke, his voice low and rough from emotion. "Majiku… there's something else I need to tell you. Something about The Cult."
Majiku looked up, his eyes tired but focused. "You know what they are?"
Kael nodded slowly. "I think I do. But I don't think I can explain it alone. We need the others."
The Gathering
It took hours for Kael to find them.
Mira was the first to return. She looked exhausted — her eyes red, her armor slung low across her shoulders. When she saw Majiku sitting by the fire beside Kael, her mouth opened slightly in surprise.
"Majiku," she whispered. "You're okay."
He smiled faintly. "I think so."
Ryn came later, his coat torn, his expression unreadable. He stopped a few feet away from the group, glancing at Kael, then at Majiku, before muttering, "Didn't expect to see this campfire still burning."
Kael gestured to the ground. "Sit. Both of you."
They did — reluctantly. The air between them was tense, awkward, heavy with the weight of unspoken guilt. The silence dragged on until Kael finally broke it.
"There's something we need to talk about," he said. "About The Cult of Immortality."
Ryn snorted. "What's left to say? They're psychos. Data ghosts who kill anything that moves."
"No," Kael said quietly. "They're not ghosts. And they're not data."
Majiku looked into the fire. "They're us."
Mira frowned. "What do you mean?"
Kael drew a deep breath. "The Cult isn't a group of NPCs. It's not a questline or a faction. It's… something else. Something born from the players themselves. From what we brought into this world when we logged in."
The Truth Unfolds
The fire flickered, casting long shadows across their faces.
"Every player who puts on the headset connects through their emotions," Kael continued. "That's how Eien works. It doesn't just read your thoughts — it feels them. It maps the mind. Turns emotions into data."
Majiku's heart thudded painfully. "You mean…"
Kael nodded. "Yes. The Cult is made from that data — from the leftover fragments of despair, rage, and loneliness. The parts of us that we hide. The parts we can't bear to face. They don't just vanish when we enter the game. They live here. They become something."
Ryn's face darkened. "You're saying all those monsters we've been fighting… were people?"
"Not people," Kael said. "Pieces of people."
Mira's voice broke. "That's why they whispered when they died…"
Majiku looked up. "They said things only I would know. Things I've thought before. When they spoke, it sounded like me. Plus they are living beings to, which is also interesting"
Kael nodded gravely. "Because some of them are you. They're everyone's worst thoughts, given shape."
The mist swirled around them, reacting — almost listening.
Kael's tone softened. "Eien was supposed to be a place to escape reality. But emotion doesn't disappear just because you hide it behind an avatar. Every player who logs in brings their pain. Their fears. Their hopelessness. Eventually, all that darkness found a shape. And I assume the creators wanted a way for people to forget about the real world for a bit, but probably didn't expect this. Or my guess, they probably don't even know that this is going on in their game, because from what I can tell, they are well hidden from the real creators. At least from what I can tell entirely."
"The Cult," Mira whispered.
Kael nodded. "It calls itself the Cult of Immortality because it believes despair is eternal. It feeds on hopelessness. On the wish that life could just stop — and never hurt again."
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Majiku stared at the fire, his voice trembling. "Then when we fight them, we're… killing parts of ourselves in ways we don't expect?"
Kael closed his eyes. "Maybe not killing. Maybe freeing thoughts in ways where we still have them, but they help us remember them better. In a more soothing matter. Despite them being bad memories and all."
Mira hugged her knees. "But if that's true… then what happens when there's nothing left to fight?"
No one answered.
The Weight of Reality
Later, when the others had gone to rest, Majiku sat alone. The mist was faintly silver under the virtual moon. The quiet wasn't peaceful — it was heavy, alive with things unsaid.
He thought about the Cult's faces — the way their eyes glowed, the way their voices sounded like echoes of his own thoughts. We are you… We remember.
It was horrifying. But it was also… familiar.
He remembered the way his mother looked through him when she spoke. The way his father used to slam doors so hard the walls shook. The nights where he would lie in bed, wondering if the world would notice if he disappeared.
He realized that Eien wasn't giving him escape. It was forcing him to face the truth of everything he had run from.
The mist shimmered faintly. A voice — soft, distorted — echoed through it.
"Majiku…"
He looked up sharply. It wasn't Kael.It wasn't the system. It was himself.
Across the mist, a shadow formed — his own shape, his own eyes — but darker, hollow, trembling.
"Why do you fight me?" the shadow asked. "I'm the part of you that remembers. The one who cried alone. The one they hit. The one who wanted to disappear."
Majiku stumbled back. "No… no, you're not real—"
"I am more real than the smile you wear here," the voice whispered. "You made me. You built this avatar so you wouldn't have to see me."
The shadow reached out a hand.
"But I'm not your enemy. I'm your wound."
Majiku's breathing quickened. "Then what do you want from me?"
"I want you to stop pretending."
The mist surged — but before it could touch him, Kael's voice cut through the air.
"Majiku!"
Kael ran toward him, sword drawn, eyes wide with fear. The shadow hissed and dissolved into static.
Majiku fell to his knees, gasping. Kael knelt beside him, gripping his shoulders. "What did you see?"
Majiku's voice broke. "It was me. It looked like me. It said it was my wound."
Kael's expression turned grim. "Then it's begun."
The Cult's True Purpose
The next day, they gathered again. Kael's face was pale. Mira looked frightened. Ryn was silent for once.
Kael stood, his cloak whipping faintly in the coded wind. "I think I understand now. The Cult isn't trying to destroy Eien. It's trying to make it perfect — by erasing pain."
Majiku looked up sharply. "Erasing pain?"
Kael nodded. "They believe that if they can absorb every fragment of despair — every emotion humans want to forget — they'll become whole. Eternal. But what they don't understand is that without pain, there's no humanity left."
Mira whispered, "They're collecting despair… from players?"
"Yes," Kael said. "When people die in Eien — when they log out broken or give up — the game doesn't let their pain vanish. It turns it into something new. That's how the Cult grows."
Ryn clenched his fists. "Then we've been feeding them this whole time. Every time we kill one, the data just goes back into the system."
Kael's eyes darkened. "Exactly."
Majiku looked at him, horrified. "Then how do we stop it?"
Kael looked toward the horizon, where the mist was darkening, roiling like a storm. "We don't destroy them," he said quietly. "We have to heal them."
The Heart of the Mist
Their next journey led them to the Heart of the Mist — a vast plain where the world seemed to end. The ground was covered in glassy reflections, each one showing a different memory. Laughter. Tears. Rage. Loneliness.
In the center was a massive figure, floating above the earth — its body made of swirling faces and voices. The Cult's Core.
"We are what you left behind," it said, its voice layered with hundreds of tones." You abandon us. You call us monsters. Yet you are the ones who made us bleed."
Kael stepped forward. "We know what you are now. And we don't want to destroy you."
The figure's laughter was cold.
"Lies. You want peace. Peace comes only when feeling dies."
Majiku shouted, "That's not true! Feeling is what keeps us human!"
"Then humanity is a sickness," the Cult answered.
The ground split apart. Shadows surged forward, the faces of despair given form. Kael drew his blade, but Majiku raised a hand.
"No," he whispered. "Not this time."
He closed his eyes and reached out — not with his sword, but with his heart. The mist shimmered around him. All the pain he'd ever felt — the loneliness, the neglect, the hopelessness — surged outward. But instead of destroying, it connected.
The shadows faltered.
Kael's voice trembled. "Majiku… what are you doing?"
Majiku smiled faintly, tears in his eyes. "Showing them they're not alone."
The shadows — once monstrous — began to change. Faces softened. The glow in their eyes dimmed from anger to sorrow. They reached toward Majiku, whispering in gratitude.
"We remember…" "We were never meant to fight…""Thank you friend…"
The Cult's Core screamed, its voice splitting into static. Majiku staggered but didn't stop. He thought of his father. His mother. His lost family. The nights spent crying, unheard.
He thought of Kael's music — the violin that once filled their tiny home with light.
And then he whispered, "It's okay to hurt. It's okay to remember."
The world trembled — and then, slowly, beautifully — the mist began to glow. The Cult's Core shattered, not in violence, but in release.
The despair dissolved into light.
Aftermath
When the light faded, they stood alone in a field of calm mist. The air was warmer now. Peaceful.
Ryn broke the silence first. "So… did we just win?"
Kael looked around, stunned. "No. We healed it."
Mira smiled faintly, wiping her tears. "I think that's better than winning."
Majiku stood silently, staring into the soft horizon. "It's not over," he said quietly. "The Cult was only the beginning. There's still more despair in this world. In us."
Kael rested a hand on his shoulder. "Then we face it. Together."
Majiku looked up at him, his eyes glistening. "Together."
That night, before logging out, Majiku sat by the fire again. The mist was still, gentle, almost tender.
For the first time, he didn't feel afraid of it.
He knew now what it was — not an enemy, not a curse — but a reflection of everything he'd buried. The part of him that wanted to be seen. To be loved. To be free.
When he took off the headset, his room was silent. No shouting. No breaking glass. Just the faint sound of his own breathing.
He looked at the headset, smiled weakly, and whispered:
"Thank you… Eien."
And for a brief, fleeting moment — he thought he saw a faint shimmer of mist drift out from the visor, vanish into the air… and take the shape of a small, glowing light.
End of Episode 5 — "The Shape of Despair."