A faint furrow formed on the boy's forehead—he was having a nightmare.
His hands clawed tightly at his chest, as if an invisible being was pressing a heavy weight upon him.
He found himself in the dark.
The once still plain had begun to stir, and the howling wind echoed in his ears.
The grass swayed violently, as though something had awakened—its breathing setting the place into motion.
A quiet flame of fear began to blaze in the boy's heart, yearning to erupt.
His teeth were clenched.
Words wouldn't come, and he felt like his breath was being stolen.
Suddenly, he saw something crawling through the tall grass. Or perhaps not just one thing—maybe several—because the ground beneath him trembled with their approach.
He was frozen in place, incapable of moving even a finger.
His thoughts pulsed chaotically, and his voice was gone. That paralyzing sensation gripped his body, as if the grass had turned into long, narrow needles seeking to pierce his heart.
One voice within said, run.
Another whispered, face it.
He had no idea what to do.
Terrified, he didn't dare stay a moment longer. All he could do was listen to the pounding of his heart.
His legs refused to move, so he dropped to the ground and crawled forward—chest scraping earth—as the unseen things crept closer.
His heartbeat grew louder, sharper—echoing through every part of his being.
Muscles stiffened.
Even the smallest movement felt impossible.
The things hidden among the grass were now barely a meter away.
Cold sweat trickled down his back.
The air turned to ice.
A strange chill seeped into his bones and made him shiver.
Just as he tried to glance back at what was chasing him, a freezing touch gripped his neck—and a searing sting sank into him.
Then he saw it:
His own body standing, headless.
Blood erupted from the severed neck like a volcanic fountain.
His sealed mouth broke open, and his final breath twisted into a broken scream.
The shock was so intense that his vision turned crimson—like pressure threatening to make him burst.
And he woke.
The nightmare had felt far too real.
Its psychological strain threw his fragile body into a minor seizure.
Foam formed at his mouth; his weakened body trembled uncontrollably.
He had no strength to resist.
Then, for a moment… his awareness vanished.
He fainted.
---
Time passed...
In a place without time, the boy awakened.
The terror that had consumed him earlier faded.
He gathered what mental strength remained and, still nervous, gently touched his neck.
"I'm okay… haha… there's no wound. That dream felt so real."
He was grateful that it had only been a dream, yet something about it stirred unease.
"Maybe it was a warning… I should be more careful."
Yes—a warning of the fate ahead.
Whether it was merely a trick of the mind or a glimpse of truth, neither felt far-fetched.
He was a man without existence.
No name.
No memory.
Nothing.
An empty shell.
He didn't know what was an enemy, and what was a friend.
Everything sat in the shadow of uncertainty.
So he chose to doubt himself—at least, the part of him that led him toward death.
But did he even have the chance to find his answers?
No.
Because what once existed only in a dream was beginning to manifest—and at that moment, he could feel death's p
resence looming.
A voiceless silence.
An echo of nothingness without end.