Time had dispersed like mist. Neither a beginning nor an end; only a dark, suffocating void. Memories wrapped around his mind like poisonous vines, each one tightening like a prison. Marin's screams, her pleading voice crying, "Brother, please don't leave me!" echoed in his ears. The ashen pages of the Rock and Mountain Absorption Method, the flames of the orphanage, the hopes he had burned with his own hands… Everything felt like a dream, but it wasn't a dream. The void filled his lungs, crushing his heart. Everything he had lived through seemed, for a moment, meaningless. He was drowning. He had grown tired too soon, broken too early. He closed his eyes, swearing never to open them again. He didn't want to wake up.
But a voice, mocking and sharp, pierced the darkness. "Biiig Brooo!" The voice stretched, echoed, and broke at times; innocent like a child's laughter, yet threatening like a hangman's whisper. How long had he been with this voice? Days, years, or an eternity? He didn't know. The voice seemed to accuse him; with every syllable, it threw Marin's fading hope in his face, his selfishness, everything. He couldn't take it. His anger erupted like a volcano. "SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!" he shouted, his voice echoing and fading into the void.
The laughter, hoarse and broken, responded. The voice drew closer, like a shadow, like a breath. And then, he felt something on his head. He couldn't describe it. A touch, a weight, or perhaps a claw? He didn't know. But this sensation was devouring him, gnawing at his mind, tearing his soul apart. He tried to force his eyes open. He resisted, shutting them with all his strength; he didn't want to wake up, didn't want to return to this hell. But the voice, as if exasperated, moved with savage determination. His eyelids were suddenly torn apart, ripped open. The shock cut through his body like a knife. But no, the shock wasn't from his eyelids. He found himself, in an instant, in his old laboratory.
The setting was exactly the same. Scattered papers, overturned tables, dusty shelves… On the floor, the bloody scraps of his eyelids gleamed like a nightmare. He tried to touch the papers, but his hands, as if bound by invisible chains, wouldn't move. The papers were stuck to the ground, as if sealed by a god's curse. He looked around, both in awe and in fear. It was as if the orphanage, the flames, Marin—all of it had been a dream. He was back in his old life, his old place. He threw himself into the chair, his back resting against the familiar leather seat. He relaxed, for a moment. He thought about what had happened—his second life, his selfishness, what he had lost…
But a voice shattered his thoughts. Across from him stood Marin. But this Marin wasn't the one he knew. Her blue eyes, devoid of emotion, were empty like a robot's. Her blonde hair, covered in ash, hung lifelessly on her shoulders. She opened her mouth, her voice mechanical, cold. "What good is regret after death?" Marin advanced toward him, the stone floor trembling with each step. Loir slid back with the chair, but there was no escape. Marin reached for his forehead; her burned, charred hand stabbed into his skin like a dagger. "NO!" Loir screamed, his voice rising as if to tear the universe apart. The laboratory dissolved like mist. He awoke in an endless void, and the darkness swallowed him.
*
At that moment, movement stirred in the cave. The charred corpse—Loir's body—began to consume its surroundings like a black hole. Yellow liquid swirled around it like a vortex; the stone floor cracked. Crystals broke from the walls, drawn toward the corpse; the air roared like a storm. The cave shook with an unprecedented earthquake. Each tremor, like a pulse, tore at the fabric of the universe. The corpse was no longer a shell; the charred skin was transforming into a humanoid figure, as if sculpted by an artist's hand. But was this figure alive, or merely the shadow of a curse?
*
In one of the vast realms, in another scene, a figure lay on a bed. Surrounding him were unconscious women, each lying like shadows amidst silk sheets. The man, hands clasped behind his head, gazed at the sky. The stars gleamed like mirrors in his eyes. A small, cunning smile crept across his face, as if he had unraveled the secrets of the universe. Slowly, he slipped out from among the women, his steps silent but resolute. He headed toward the door, the scene he left behind like a dream. The moment he stepped through the doorway, everything dissolved like an illusion. The women, the bed, the room… all vanished like smoke. Only thorns and an endless void remained. As the figure drifted in the void, his smile deepened. "It begins," he whispered, his voice spreading through the universe.
*
At midnight, the cave awoke with a tremor. The woman sat up in her bed, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. The cave was shaking with an earthquake unlike any before; stones cracked, crystals scattered on the ground. In panic, she leapt from her bed, hastily pulling on her linen shirt. Her hands trembled as she put on her pants. She considered running outside, but the charred shell downstairs flashed in her mind. "Is it him?" she murmured, her voice sounding foreign even to herself. There was no need to descend the stairs; she leapt over the stone steps, her movements as agile as a hunter's, landing on the ground below. She rushed downstairs, her heart in her throat.
The sight before her left her stunned. The charred shell was no longer a shell. The black, charred skin had gathered into a human form, each curve sculpted as if by a master artist. The figure floated in the yellow liquid, consuming everything around it like a black hole. The air roared like a storm; stones were drawn into the liquid, melting away. The woman froze for a moment, her eyes wide as saucers. "This… is impossible," she whispered. But she didn't panic. She grabbed her leather satchel and pulled out a small, silver bell. Her fingers made the bell ring; the chime spread through the cave like a wave. The sound touched the fabric of the universe, slowing time for a moment. The charred figure paused, its movements sluggish. But it was only for a moment.
It felt as if I were awakening from a centuries-long slumber. My consciousness was pulling itself from a dark, sticky swamp—slowly, persistently. My body slid out of the cold glass of an experimental tube. When my feet touched the stone floor, reality hit me like a slap. The surroundings were shockingly familiar. My old laboratory—dusty shelves, overturned tables, piles of papers… I was wearing my old life's uniform—a white lab coat, crumpled but familiar. Strangely, I held a satchel containing my research notes. In shock, I rifled through it; pages, formulas, charts… all real. My heart pounded like a war drum. How could this be possible?
But at that moment, a figure emerged from the shadows. The thief. The vile man gripping his dagger, his eyes gleaming with greed. He approached cautiously, the blade's tip glinting in the dim light. In the past, that dagger had pierced my back, stealing everything from me. But this time, I wouldn't let it happen. I clenched my teeth, my hands balling into fists. "You damn bastard!" I growled, my voice echoing off the laboratory walls. But reality cracked like a mirror. The laboratory dissolved, and I awoke on the cold cave floor, a charred shell.
*
Loir's charred body was now like a masterpiece sculpted by an artist. The black, flaky skin had taken on a human form, each curve resembling a warrior's muscles. But this figure was far from human. The cave's yellow liquid swirled around it like a vortex; crystals broke from the walls, drawn to the body. The air roared like a storm, the fabric of reality trembling. Loir suddenly moved. His hands tore through the air as if grasping an invisible enemy; his fingers curled like claws. The woman, in shock, stared at this supernatural being. With curiosity but caution, she took a step toward it.
Loir's body shifted position in an instant. His form twisted with the grace of a jujutsu master; knees bent, arms shielding his chest, as if ready for a deadly dance. His eyeless face locked onto the woman; the charred skin pulsed like a heartbeat. The woman took another step, but Loir's scream shook the cave. The inhuman, beastly roar rose as if to tear the universe apart. The yellow liquid began to evaporate; the stone floor cracked and split. Reality shattered like a mirror, and the cave turned into a battlefield.
Loir lunged at the woman like a shadow. His movements were as fast as lightning, as feral as a tiger. He reached to wrap his arm around her throat, but the woman was as graceful as a dancer. She swung her long, sharp nails like daggers; each nail tore through the air toward Loir's chest. Loir dodged with uncanny agility, the nails grazing his charred skin, sparking. The woman didn't stop; she leapt toward Loir, her other hand swinging like a hook. Loir jumped back, but the woman had already made her move. Her fingers grabbed Loir's arm, squeezing with an iron grip. With one motion, she lifted Loir into the air and hurled him against the cave's stone wall.
The impact echoed like thunder. Loir's charred figure embedded into the wall, shattering the stone. His face—if it could be called a face—stretched oddly. The charred skin pulled as if trying to form a mouth, but only a stark silence followed. The sight was both terrifying and mesmerizing, as if a nightmare had taken form in reality. But Loir didn't stop. He slithered from the wall like a snake, dust and stone fragments scattering. He lunged at the woman, his movements a whirlwind. His arms wrapped around her like ropes; with each twist, the cave's air tightened. The woman found herself on the ground, the stone floor slamming into her back like a sledgehammer.
She coughed up blood, but a spark gleamed in her eyes. "Is this how you treat those who take you in?" she said, a mocking smile on her lips. As she rose, she suddenly plunged her hand into her own chest. Blood flowed like a waterfall; the cave turned into a crimson lake. The blood materialized in the air, shaping into a spear. The woman gripped the spear, her skin visibly paling. Black, lightning-like marks snaked across her body, climbing toward her eyes. Her eyes darkened for a moment, then blazed with red fire.
The battle became a dance of death. The woman swung the spear like a hurricane; each strike tore through the air toward Loir. Loir danced like a shadow; each time the spear struck, his charred skin burst but reformed instantly. The woman stepped back, planting her spear into the ground. Blood rose like a wave, crashing toward Loir to engulf him. Loir punched through the blood wave; his fist exploded like a meteor, blood droplets scattering across the cave. But the woman orchestrated the chaos like an artist. She leapt into the air, hurling the spear like lightning at Loir's chest. The spear pierced through him, but Loir, as if unfazed, charged at her. His hands reached for her throat; his charred fingers tightened like claws.
The woman, with a final move, bit into Loir's leg. Her teeth tore through the charred skin; blood spurted from her mouth. She threw herself back, spitting the blood onto the ground. "Enough!" she shouted, her voice shaking the cave. But Loir was like a beast; he didn't stop. He locked her arm, trying to break it, but her arm, like a steel statue, wouldn't bend. The woman narrowed her eyes, and at that moment, the black marks reached her eyes. Her pupils filled with red blood, as if a river fed them. She let out a pained scream, her voice cracking the cave's stones. The blood from her eyes fell to the ground, and reality reversed.
All the blood on the ground swirled back into the woman's eyes like a vortex. The cave was cleansed, as if it had never seen blood. The black marks on the woman's body began to crack; each fissure gleamed like lightning. Loir froze for a moment, but this was not the end of the battle.