?? / ?? / ????, ??:?? - ????????, ???????????????????.
The dark sea was calm again.
Its surface rolled in silence, black waves gleaming faintly under a night sky filled with distant, dying stars. The horizon did not move, nor did the air. It was the kind of stillness that made time itself seem irrelevant, where eternity could pass and nothing would change.
Then the calm broke.
The white-golden door that stood above the endless sea suddenly swung open.
From within poured a flood of radiant light, rich and heavy, illuminating the void in trembling shades of gold. For a brief moment, that brilliance painted the dark water into molten silver.
A shadow fell through the light.
The figure hit the sea with a dull sound, sinking into the water that wasn't quite liquid, wasn't quite air. For a long while, he didn't move. Then a twitch, a small gasp, and then Shirakami Akane opened his eyes.
Grey, lifeless eyes.
He choked, dragging air into lungs that hadn't breathed for eternity. Even that simple act felt foreign.
The sound of his breathing echoed strangely in the hollow world, as if the realm itself questioned whether "air" truly existed here.
His dark hair clung to his temple. His skin was pale, untouched by sunlight. His lips trembled as he tried to move, to stand, but his body refused. Every breath drew pain; every motion demanded more strength than he had left.
Yet, he gritted his teeth.
Using both hands, he pushed himself up, knees shaking beneath him. The effort lasted only a moment before he collapsed again, body heaving.
After a long silence, he simply sat cross-legged upon the trembling sea, breathing slowly, as if learning again how to exist.
Time passed, or perhaps it didn't. Here, the concept meant nothing.
Seconds could stretch into centuries; eternity could vanish in a heartbeat.
When his breathing steadied, Akane lifted his gaze.
Three doors still stood under the starless sky.
The white-golden door, from which he had been cast out, shimmered faintly, golden symbols entwined with silver lines that pulsed like veins. A serpent and a dragon, their forms overlapping, their presence intertwined. The door stood silent, indifferent to his existence, as if it had fulfilled its role or his own existence could not even affect it.
Next to it was the white door, its surface pristine, untouched by age. At its center was a small metal plate etched with words that glimmered faintly under the faint starlight.
"Make a choice that you won't regret."
And at the edge of his sight loomed the maroon door, sealed by six black chains. The metal was dark and cold, but behind it something stirred, a shadow that seemed almost alive, closer than before. The chains trembled faintly, whispering of pressure and hunger.
Akane's eyes lingered there only briefly. His body, still weak, trembled with instinctive caution. Even without touching it, he could feel it, the pulse of hatred, malice, and his instinct to take revenge for everything.
He turned away quickly, forcing his attention back to the white door. This realm had changed, though only slightly.
Akane exhaled softly. His breath misted into nothing.
For a long time, he sat there, motionless. The dim starlight reflected faintly in his empty eyes, and his mind drifted between thought and memory. Images flickered in the darkness of his mind, burning cities, screaming voices, Irina's trembling hand, the scent of ash and blood. Every memory was sharp enough to wound.
The sea stirred violently.
The chains on the maroon door rattled.
The sky becomes dim, and even a tinge of red can be seen.
The calm world trembled beneath the weight of remembrance.
Akane closed his eyes.
He let out the pain that stirred inside him for a moment, then drew in a deep, shuddering breath.
Slowly, deliberately, he steadied himself. The sea calmed once more, though the reflection of his face upon its surface seemed different, distant, aged, a shadow of a child who had seen too much.
His gaze returned to the white door.
The inscription gleamed again: "Make a choice that you won't regret."
He stared at it for a long time, expression unreadable. Then, faintly, almost imperceptibly, his eyes flashed a meaningful hint of resolve, and he seemed to have decided to do something.
He rose.
His legs trembled. His back was hunched. His breaths came shallow. Yet step by step, he walked. Each motion seemed to scrape away exhaustion, replacing weakness with will.
When he finally reached the door, his fingers hovered before the handle.
He hesitated, not out of fear, but awareness. Once the door opened, there would be no return.
Memories, again, flickered through him: fire devouring the horizon, screams drowned by collapsing light, the taste of failure, that hopeless moment when you can only watch the one you love die before your eyes.
The dark sea reflected them all, rippling in sync with his thoughts.
Then the maroon door groaned. The six chains rattled, pulling taut, reacting to the memory of blood and ruin.
The waves churned violently, but Akane did not move. His expression remained still, almost detached, as though the world's turbulence could no longer reach him.
Slowly, he placed his hand upon the handle.
The white door, once unyielding, turned easily, as if it had been waiting.
The instant the handle gave way, the sea fell silent. The waves stilled. The maroon door's chains quieted.
The stars above dimmed until only one faint glow remained, the light spilling from the opened door.
Beyond it was a vast space of pure white, a horizonless void.
Yet above it, a different kind of sky stretched, not black, but silver, dotted with stars that shimmered with unknown colors.
Akane stood before the threshold
No words, no hesitation. Only the steady sound of his breath and the faint whisper of the door opening wider. He took one step forward, into the light that erased shadow, time, and doubt.
"To know yourself," he murmured, voice barely audible, "is to know your enemy."
And the door closed behind him.