When he woke up, it felt like the echo of a nightmare clinging to his skin.
The destruction was gone.
The battlefield, the shattered stone, the damage he and the knight had left behind—all of it erased. The floor beneath him was pristine, polished to a dull shine, as if the violence had never happened at all.
Statues lined the chamber now. The same ones he had seen outside, repositioned within the room, standing in silent watch along the walls. They formed a loose circle around him. As his eyes moved from one to the next, the realization settled in.
They were the same.
The same spirit-like figures. The same presence. Just frozen again.
His gaze shifted forward.
The knight knelt before him.
One knee to the ground. Head lowered. Motionless.
It looked almost identical to how it had in that nightmare—empty, dormant, waiting.
His body acted before his thoughts could catch up.
Pain ripped through him as he moved, sharp and insistent, his muscles protesting every step. He ignored them anyway.
He reached out.
His fingers traced the dents in the armor, lingering there, before he leaned in and rested his forehead against the knight's helm.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting all these years."
He didn't fully understand why he said it.
The words came without explanation, without logic—but they felt right. Necessary.
Whatever the man had done to him had unlocked something buried deep inside. A connection he hadn't known was missing until now.
It felt like recognition.
Like finding something he'd lost before he even knew to look for it.
The knight's eyes ignited.
Light flared—then dimmed—as the armor dissolved into shadow, sinking seamlessly into his own.
Whole again.
"You ready to leave?" he asked the inner voice, which had been quiet the whole time, letting him mourn.
'Yeah,' it said. There was a pause. 'You did well. I'm so proud of you, Shiro.'
It was the first time in his life he had heard those words.
Suddenly, all the pain felt worth it.
Once he pressed Yes, the world shifted.
He was back in the basilisk's chamber.
His body gave up immediately, his back pressing against the cold floor. Nearby, in the distance, lay the lifeless body of the hunter he had killed.
'How are you feeling?' the voice asked softly, sounding concerned.
"I'm okay," Shiro chuckled, dragging in lungs full of air, finally happy to be able to breathe normally.
"But at this point, I just want to go back into the well and sleep in my favorite spot," he said softly.
'Oh,' the voice responded.
"Don't worry. I'll be fine. Let's just get out of here. We'll find another way out of the well."
'Shiro, before we go, there's one more thing we need to do,' the voice said softly.
Shiro sighed. "More fighting?" He let out a tired chuckle. "I don't think I can—well, not yet—if you let me rest for a bit."
'No more fighting,' the voice interrupted. 'I promise.'
He let out a breath of relief. "Thank God."
The voice laughed. 'You did well, Shiro,' it said, sounding almost proud.
And for the first time in his life, he felt good. This emotion—something he was feeling for the first time—made everything he had gone through suddenly feel worth it.
'Shiro, you see that trapdoor?'
"Yes."
'There is something waiting for you there. A reward for completing the trials,' the voice muttered.
He pushed himself up, feeling energized out of nowhere, and moved toward the mysterious door. It was odd—a spiral staircase that led deeper into the ground.
The egg in his pocket began to glow faintly. Not to mention, it was moving, brushing against his side like it was ready to hatch.
He pulled it out of his pocket and waited for it to hatch, but nothing happened.
He frowned. "Oh, come on. Don't tease me now."
It shook once more—and once again, nothing.
He sighed in disappointment and stepped forward.
When he looked down, the sight instantly made his head spin. A spiral staircase sank so deep he could barely see the end.
As he walked down, he began to get bored. The voice in his head was awfully quiet. Not to mention, its behavior was different—its tone never shifted back to its joking manner.
"This isn't the well I was thrown into, is it?" Shiro asked, breaking the silence more out of habit than curiosity. He had questions. Too many. But he kept them to himself. Well, for now.
'No,' the voice said quietly. 'It isn't.'
He already knew that. All the times he had moved through the tunnel, nothing looked familiar. This suspicion worsened when he realized he kept coming back to the same place over and over again—the hole in the wall.
"What is this place, then?" he asked, curious.
The voice paused for a moment, like it was wondering whether to tell him or not.
'Shiro… this is what most would call purgatory.'
"What's that?" he asked, watching his steps, trying not to slip. One wrong move and he would fast-travel all the way to the bottom.
Not to mention, his body still hurt, and the last thing he needed was one misstep sending him tumbling—along with his revenge.
'It's a place you don't want to be in,' the voice said softly.
Shiro didn't know how to respond. "Don't worry. You won't be stuck here anymore. We both will leave this world."
The voice chuckled. 'Yeah… that sounds good.'
After another long stretch of silence, the voice in his head finally spoke again.
'Why do you still trust me after I made you go through all that?'
Shiro thought for a moment. "I don't know. If you really wanted me dead, you wouldn't have spent so long training me, preparing me for all that." He paused again. "And you were the only one who treated me well—even when I called you names and annoyed you."
The voice went quiet again.
The deeper he went, the more pressure he felt. Each step was like someone piling stones onto his shoulders.
Once he made it all the way to the bottom, he stopped to catch his breath before going farther, letting out a long, irritated sigh.
When he looked up, a massive door loomed in front of him. Black, featureless, yet marked by two things—on one side, a small hole the size of the egg; on the other, an imprint of a hand.
He hesitated.
'It's okay. It's to bond you and the egg.'
He sighed, then set the egg in its place before placing his palm on the imprint. At this point, he was too tired to care, and there was no way in hell he was climbing back up there.
"Hopefully it doesn't hurt too bad."
His hand slid perfectly into the imprint. Then—pinch. Like a needle.
"Great start."
Like a perfectly normal person whose hand was suddenly glued to a door, he panicked instantly and tried to yank it free.
But it didn't budge.
'Don't panic, Shiro.'
"I'm trying not to," he snapped, frustration creeping into his voice. "It's normal to panic when your hand is glued to a wall while something pokes your finger."
He exhaled sharply.
"They should really think of ways to let people know what's behind doors. Like beware of big snakes, beware of scary knights, or beware of needles."
He paused, then added bitterly, "It could be really helpful."
The voice laughed uncontrollably, like that brought it back to life.
"This is the last time I trust a door."
Just then, he heard a loud hissing. He felt the entire room shaking. For a brief moment, he really thought the building might crash down on him—but it didn't.
When he looked up at the door, his eyes went wide as a crimson glow spiraled across it—stretching from the gate until his hand and the egg were connected by a single line.
When the marking finally dimmed, his hand tore free. He stumbled back, grabbed the egg, and put distance between himself and the door.
He stared, mouth half open, almost amazed.
On the door, the crimson lines had taken shape.
A pair of serpent's eyes.
"Let me guess. This was supposed to happen?"
'Yeah,' the voice muttered.
The pretty egg started to react in his palm. He glanced down as faint cracks spread across the shell, followed by a burst of light that nearly blinded him.
He squinted. "What now…"
When his vision cleared, a small snake coiled in his hand—its back a deep red, its belly pure white. With its tiny upturned nose, it looked almost too cute.
He rubbed the sides of its cheeks. It opened its eyes and leaned into the touch.
"You know, I take it back. For you, I'd do this a hundred times over."
The snake let out a tiny yawn—almost too cute, almost enough to make him forget his terrible life. Then it coiled into a ball and fell asleep.
He gently slipped her into his pocket, but before walking toward the suspicious-looking door, something bothered him.
"How come you never told me who you are?" he asked the voice, his tone soft.
'What do you mean?' the voice replied.
"I don't know anything about you."
The silence stretched long enough to make him uneasy. Then the voice spoke again—softer, almost pleading.
'Shiro, we are almost there. I will tell you everything when the time comes.'
'So please… no more questions.'
The voice's tone cracked—almost sad.
"Okay," he muttered, not wanting to push any further.
He stepped through the door. The chamber lit up, torches flaring to life in a straight line, as if welcoming him in.
That made him feel slightly calmer.
On both sides of the hall stretched the bodies of two serpents. It was obvious which was male and which was female. He wasn't sure how he knew—since they both looked the same—but somehow, he could just tell.
The right side was the female, the left the male. Their bodies lit with a crimson glow as he passed, almost like a guide. At the very end, the two serpents met—coiling around each other into a single pillar, like lovers meeting at last.
When he approached, the pillar's pattern came alive. Instead of feeling threatened, his chest tightened, as though he could sense their sadness… their loss.
They slithered toward him and gently tapped the spot where he had placed the baby snake, one after the other. Then their mouths opened, revealing two shards.
The sight carved a wide smile across his face. After what the universe had put him through, seeing those daggers made him feel almost alive again.
They looked as if they had been torn from the serpents' very bodies. Magnificent. One was dark red with black edges. The other was black with a deep red edge—mirrors of each other, inverted and opposed.
He stared at them with wide eyes until something familiar flashed before him.
[Title: the Tyrant King ]
[Core Status: Awakened]
[Passive Acquired: Limitless]
[Restriction: Shard Consumption — Prohibited]
[Soul Fragments: 0/100]
"What do we have here…"
"It's the same as before."
His eyes slid down the screen, then stopped.
He squinted at the title.
"…Tyrant King?"
His brow furrowed. "I've had the throne for, what, ten minutes? I haven't even sat properly yet. How does that already make me a tyrant?"
He let out a dry laugh. "I don't even want the throne anymore. This feels less like a title and more like I'm being set up. Like I haven't done anything yet."
He let out a disappointed sigh.
"I haven't even built a statue of myself yet," he muttered. "Or banned happiness. Or free speech. And somehow I managed to earn a title people work years for."
He huffed softly. "Lucky me."
And honestly, that was the part that worried him most.
He knew how stories treated kings. The voice had told him enough of them over time, and they all shared the same ending.
Betrayal.
Knives in the dark.
A very brief discussion between the neck and the shoulders.
And now he was lucky enough to skip to the end, collecting the reward without ever committing the crime.
Definitely not on his to-do list.
The voice broke into uncontrollable laughter.
'Yeah… yeah, I get why you're stressed.'
There was a brief pause.
'Relax. You're not losing your head. Well—' another beat, amused, '—not anytime soon.'
"Oh, great. Thanks for the reassurance," he muttered. "That really puts my mind at ease."
The voice kept laughing.
Shiro, ignoring its foolery, reached for the text again, only for his hand to pass right through it.
His gaze drifted to the daggers instead.
Slowly, he reached out and grabbed them.
[Item Acquired: Lovers' Oath — Twin Daggers (Incomplete Form)]
[Rank: Unknown]
[Passive Unlocked: Bonded Fate]
Passives (Bonded):
• Selene (Right Hand) — Wounds opened by her blade will never close, struck by Erevos.
• Erevos (Left Hand) — His blade can infuse the wound with venom or restoration—whatever the wielder wishes.
[Two lovers torn apart in death, waiting until bound again in steel.]
Once he gripped them, another sharp pinch ran through his hand.
[Item Acquired: Lovers' Oath — Twin Daggers has been activated]
The serpents slithered around him, almost dancing, then faded into a series of shifting drawings before vanishing into the air—as if moving on after completing their duty.
"Don't worry," he murmured. "I'll take care of your child."