Nothing.
What is nothing?
The absence of something.
What is something?
Everything.
If something is everything, then how can nothing be?
How can something both exist and not exist?
Nothing.
Nothing both exists and does not exist.
For that, is—
…
He blinked.
Blinking.
It felt as if that was the only thing he could do.
A pen was in his hand.
A notebook lay open before him, its page partly filled.
That's right.
He'd dozed off.
That never happened before. Or did it?
He needed to continue writing the lecture down.
So he could study it.
So he could pass his exams.
So he could move further in life.
…He was getting sick of the whys.
He didn't have all the answers.
So why?
Why was this annoying voice constantly asking him why?
He didn't know the answers to their whys.
In truth, he had many questions of his own.
The world around him was colorless.
Sound was muted, drawn out into dull, distorted murmurs.
Even the scratch of his pen was faint, like a memory of sound.
The students and the teacher had blurred faces, impossible to tell who was who.
And yet…
The only question that lingered in his mind was—
Why do I exist?
He received no answer.
The world shook.
Yet no one reacted.
So it must have been normal.
He did what others did.
He didn't know what he should do.
He simply did as he was told.
When school ended, he went home.
He rang the doorbell.
He'd learned that was how you let the occupants of the house know you were at the door.
Why he did it, he didn't know.
He'd simply been told to.
The door opened.
His father, face blurred, welcomed him inside.
Why, he didn't know.
A girl, older than him, lay on the couch.
A relative. She waved in greeting.
He copied her gesture because he didn't know what else to do.
A boy, younger than him, ran up and hugged his legs.
He hugged back.
Then he returned to his room.
He read what he'd written earlier that day.
Once finished, he sat down on his bed.
He didn't know what else to do.
No one had told him.
He didn't understand this thing called free time.
He sat there until dinner.
He ate.
Then went to the bathroom.
After, he went back to his room.
He waited for the time to sleep.
What else was he supposed to do?
He didn't know.
No one had told him.
When it was finally time, he lay on his bed and closed his eyes.
What sleep truly meant, he didn't know.
And he repeated it all again the next day.
…
Walking to school and back home, he saw many things.
People of all kinds.
Some were happy, some were sad, some were in pain, and some…
…They all expressed emotion.
He learned what emotions were.
But he couldn't understand them.
He had realized it a long time ago.
He was different.
He didn't know how or why—only that he was.
Yet he did nothing to change it.
Because he didn't know how to change.
It didn't bother him for a while.
But the more he saw.
The more he… yearned for it.
To feel something.
Something that others felt too.
He did nothing.
For that was all he knew.
The world shook.
…
One night, as always, he sat on his bed.
Yet something was different this time.
A voice was calling out to him.
A familiar voice.
The same one that had been bothering him all this time.
It came from the mirror.
The mirror—
a peculiar thing.
To allow one to see themselves.
Had he ever used it?
…Should he?
The voice kept calling, insistent and unrelenting.
It ordered him to come closer.
Should he listen?
Ignore it?
He was supposed to choose?
…He chose to listen.
He stood and walked toward the mirror.
He didn't know what to expect.
There, staring back at him, was nothing.
A faceless humanoid.
Its skin was the same as his.
Its hair the same.
Its clothes the same.
Yet there was no face.
Not even a blur, like with everyone else.
Once again, he saw that he was different.
Why?
He didn't know why.
How do you feel?
What was he supposed to feel?
He didn't know.
Something ignited within him.
He was tired of not knowing.
No—he hated not knowing.
In the end, he did feel something.
Fury.
It wasn't aimed at the world, but at himself. For not being able to feel properly.
He wanted it so badly.
But what could he do?
What should he do?
Do what you want.
What did he want?
He wanted to feel.
That was all.
…
On his walk to school, something felt different.
"Help!"
Someone was calling out.
This, however, did not concern him.
Yet he couldn't help but wait—
Wait to see if someone else would help.
As he watched people walk by, he realized no one would.
Should he?
Could he?
Would he?
In the end, he chose to help.
Some children's frisbee was stuck in a tree.
One of them had hurt themselves trying to climb it.
It was just a scratch, but he could tell they were in pain.
He took out a bandage from his backpack.
His father had told him to carry some, in case he ever needed them.
He didn't need it—but someone else did.
He had to make a choice.
What will you do?
He decided to wash the wound first with his water bottle, then applied the bandage.
After that, he climbed the tree and retrieved the frisbee.
It was strange.
Seeing the children happy because of something he did.
They noticed he'd injured himself while climbing.
He hadn't been careful—too focused on getting the frisbee as quickly as possible.
He told them he was fine, and for whatever reason, they thought he was very brave.
Because of that, he was late to school—and punished for it.
It was strange.
He had evoked two completely different emotions in people:
Joy and anger.
Yet neither affected him.
After that day, he began paying more attention to others.
He didn't understand emotions—but he wanted to learn.
Still… bringing joy or misery to people did not make him feel fulfilled.
And yet… their faces started becoming less and less blurry.
However—
Why do I exist?
People seem to think I'm a mistake.
Then why do I exist?
What am I supposed to do?
They all seem to know what they want.
Why can't I be like that?
What even-
What is my name?
Who am I?
…
Continuing to interact with people changed the world around him.
There was color now.
Sounds no longer felt muffled.
Faces became clear, and-
He was still the same.
Nothing.
Why?
…
Something had changed.
While he slept.
Something happened.
When he looked into the mirror, he saw a blurry face.
At least now, he had a face.
Yet, even when the mirror reflected himself…
He felt as though the person in it wasn't him.
Nicholas.
The voice called out to him.
Remember.
Nicholas Darklight.
That is who you are.
But… who was Nicholas Darklight?
A hero?
A villain?
A human?
A monster?
What was he?
…
The voice fell silent.
The room around him turned dark. Or rather-
It turned into nothingness.
Leaving only him.
Alone.
"I am nothing. There is nothing within me. Hollow."
You are not.
"Who are you to decide that?"
You.
"…"
Follow my voice.
"…"
Once again, he had a choice to make.
He remembered now-
He had made this choice before.
He had followed the voice once.
It awakened a power within him.
That power had never brought him peace.
But it had done good for others.
So, once more, he chose to follow it.
…
He wasn't afraid of the darkness anymore.
It was oddly comforting.
It grounded him, it reminded him of who he was.
Nicholas Darklight.
Just a guy who tries to help people.
Some identity that is.
"My head feels like it's going to explode. Let's see… I'm fifteen, almost sixteen. People annoy me, but I still can't help helping them. I have the power of 'Darkness,' and I hate myself." He nodded.
"Yep, sounds about right. Some power that guy has… making someone lose their 'identity.' Man, I feel so exposed because of that." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
"What about you, strange voice that keeps guiding me? Any comment?"
Just like that, the voice was gone again.
"My guardian angel," he muttered, rolling his eyes.
He still didn't know what the voice wanted from him.
It guided him toward awakening his power.
Told him when it grew.
Helped him when he was lost.
But what did it want?
"If I remember correctly… that eye used hypnosis on me, and I'm still stuck inside my head. Or maybe inside its eye? Well, if I don't wake up soon, I'll probably be inside it."
He shivered, remembering the creature's maw. "Now then… how do I get out?" He tapped a finger against his chin.
Then he felt it.
The Darkness within him was stirring.
Not knowing what else to do, he released it from his palm. He remembered, back during the fight with Markus, when he had ordered the Darkness to heal him.
So, he gave it another command.
"Hey, get me out of here."
The Darkness obeyed.
A door formed before him.
"That was simpler than I expected."
He approached the door and, before opening it, gave it a quick knock.
"Just in case…"
Then he opened it-
A flash of images burst through his mind. The suddenness forced him to slam the door shut as he staggered back, clutching his head.
"There's… a catch. Of course there is."
He rubbed his temples, trying to process what he'd seen. Images of Jeremy. Fragmented, raw, and painful, though the context escaped him.
"Is this… some new way to use Darkness?"
Without a doubt, he had pierced into Jeremy's memories. His darkest ones.
"Haah…" He really didn't want to, but if this was what it took to awaken to his real body, then so be it.
He drew in a deep breath and sprinted toward the door.
He burst through it, and Jeremy's life began flashing before his eyes.
Again and again, until it branded itself into his mind.
Jeremy had lived a lower-middle-class life.
An abusive father.
A negligent mother.
Two siblings, a sister and a brother.
He always took the blame for their mistakes.
Eventually, he was kicked out. With nowhere to go, he turned to crime and was taken in by his boss, who became the only father figure he ever had.
The memories jumped, cutting off at random points, showing only the worst moments.
All of it… led to the day he became a mutant.
"AH!"
Nicholas's eyes shot open. He pushed against the massive fingers that ensnared him, forcing them apart. He fell backward, hitting the ground hard and rolling to a stop.
Breathing ragged, he ran his hands over his body, checking, still in one piece.
"Fuckin' hell…"
The flood of memories had left his mind throbbing.
"Ghk-" He gagged, nearly vomiting, but managed to hold it back. The mask stayed in place.
Then he looked up.
Jeremy stood there, still.
No longer attacking.
He was trembling.
That single, massive eye darted over his own form: his legs, his arms, his monstrous body.
It looked as though he wanted to cry.
It was as if Jeremy had regained his sense of self… only to realize what he'd become.
Small, broken shrieks escaped his mouth.
Terrified was the only word for it.
"Jeremy… you poor-"
Nicholas didn't finish.
Something tore past him, faster than he could register.
A flash of steel.
A blade pierced Jeremy's eye, sliding clean through to the other side.
Then-
SHEEK!
The entire top half of Jeremy's body was cleaved from the bottom.
Nicholas shielded his eyes, unwilling to watch something so grotesque happen to someone whose life he had just lived.
When he finally looked up, a sword was pointed at him.
A woman stood before him, dressed in a green kimono.
"Slash… Draw…" he whispered.
Her eyes glowed with dangerous intent.
He knew, then-
He wasn't getting out of here alive.