As the carriage halts, the distant hum of the city sounds around them—distant chatter, the clopping of hooves on cobblestone. The air is warm with the faint scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery.
«Francis» We're here.
«Pathos» Is this where your parents live?
«Francis» Yeah. I guess this is where we part ways, huh, Pathos?
With a sad expression, Pathos looks down at the ground.
«Pathos» Yes... I know... I can help you bring everything down if you need me to.
«Francis» There's no need—my parents will help with that.
«Pathos» Oh... alright.
Francis looks at Pathos and notices he can't bring himself to meet his gaze. Francis smiles, realizing Pathos is distraught about saying goodbye.
«Francis» If you want, you can stay here for a while.
«Pathos» No... no, don't worry about me. You've already done enough. I wouldn't want to be a burden.
«Francis» I get it... Listen.
Francis grabs something from his waist—a small bag of silver coins. He holds it out to Pathos.
«Francis» Since you don't know this city, and I'd never forgive myself if you faced it empty-handed. I want to give you some silver. At the end of the road, just past the fountain, there's an inn. Until you find your parents, you can stay there—on me, alright?
He grabs Pathos's hand and places the sack in it, gently pushing it toward him. Pathos stares at the bag, then looks back at Francis with a worried expression.
«Pathos» You didn't need to. I already have some money, and you probably need it more than I do.
Pathos gently tries to return the sack, not wanting to accept it.
«Francis» What are you saying? It's my pleasure to help you. Having you around… it felt like having a son.
Pathos's eyes widen in shock at the statement.
«Pathos» Ah!?
Francis pushes the sack back toward Pathos.
«Francis» Never mind that. Just remember—if you need anything, you can always find us here, alright?
Pathos finally takes the sack of silver coins, holding it firmly as Francis lets go.
«Pathos» Alright...
He gives Francis one last look before hopping off the carriage. He turns to wave goodbye, but someone stops him.
«Petra» Wait! You're forgetting something.
Petra jumps down from the carriage, holding Pathos's cloak. The fabric is clean, free of mud, and despite its worn condition, Petra has made it look nearly new.
«Petra» Here, this is your cloak. I cleaned it as best I could.
«Pathos» You're not mad at me?
«Petra» That again? I was never truly angry at you... Well, maybe a little. But I calmed down. We're friends now.
Petra offers the folded cloak to Pathos with both hands. Pathos stares at it, his eyes beginning to well with tears as he takes the cloak. His hands shake. He couldn't speak, couldn't even look at her. Just nods. Despite everything that happened in these past days, they were the only ones who showed him kindness—like he was their son. His tears slowly run down his cheeks, dampening the cloak.
«Pathos» Thank you...
«Pathos (thinking)» Now I get it. This is what Francis meant when he said as if I were their son.
«Petra» Hey, don't cry on the cloak or all my hard work will be wasted!
«Pathos» You're right.
Pathos stares at the cloak, the tears threatening to spill over again. Petra's teasing words bring him back to the present, and he manages a small, shaky laugh. Pathos wipes his face with his arm.
«Pathos» I won't need your help anymore. Thank you, Petra. Thank you, Francis. I wish you both the best.
«Petra» I'm sorry for this.
«Pathos» For wha—
Before he can finish, Petra sees he's still crying. She quickly closes the distance between them and gives him a short hug. She was warm. Just for a moment—like family. He didn't want to let go... but he did.
«Petra» We wish you the best too. Stay safe, alright?
She steps back, her hands still on Pathos's shoulders.
«Pathos» Yes... I will.
As Petra returns to Francis, her hand gently rests on her womb, where their baby is. Both she and Francis wave at Pathos.
«Petra» Take care, alright? And make sure to drink plenty of water!
«Francis» And remember—if you ever need anything, come back to us!
Pathos waves back with a smile on his face, his thoughts drifting.
«Pathos (thinking)» What a beautiful family they are. I'm jealous of their child... But...
He sees Petra and Francis as the parents he never had. Despite the injustice done to his own family, he can't help but smile.
«Pathos (thinking)» My family was once just like theirs. I hope what happened to me never happens to that child. Now that I think about it... I never even asked their baby's name. What a shame.
Pathos finally turns away from their direction, eyes fixed on the long road ahead. Though he still thinks about them, his focus shifts back to why he's here. Yet, he can't shake off the feeling of deep gratitude he holds toward them.
«Pathos (thinking)» At this point...
He looks down at the folded cloak in his arms. The sun's warm embrace touches his skin, and for a moment, he doesn't feel alone. Light catches the emblem stitched into the fabric, and he realizes just how much heart Petra had poured into this simple gift.
«Pathos (thinking)» There's no need to throw this away anymore.
«Pathos» Anyway, I need to ask around for some information about Jhoel.
Pathos's stomach starts to grumble.
«Pathos» And maybe get something to eat... I tried not to take too much of their food, and now I'm starving like crazy.
Pathos looked at his surroundings. Many people come and go, and the little shops never stop—almost as if they were endless. Some sold armor and weapons, others precious gems that shone with color, and one even sold vases of different shapes and sizes. Eventually, he spots a shop that sells sweets.
«Pathos (thinking)» That looks promising. Oh! Let me see how much Francis gave me.
Pathos takes the sack and starts counting the silver coins.
«Pathos» About 353 silver coins... I need to make this last until I find Jhoel.
Pathos walks up to the shopkeeper, who immediately greets him.
«Shopkeeper» Welcome! What can I do for you?
Pathos quickly explains that he's trying to find someone named Jhoel.
«Shopkeeper» Jhoel, huh? Mhm... I don't know anyone by that name.
«Pathos» Really?
«Shopkeeper» I lied. I do know him.
Pathos looks confused.
«Pathos» Then why didn't you tell me earlier?
«Shopkeeper» You think I'd just give you that information without buying something?
«Pathos (thinking)» Come on...
«Pathos» Alright then—give me five of these and three of those.
He points first at some muffins, then at the donuts.
«Shopkeeper» Now we're talking! Here you go, all yours. That'll be one silver coin.
The shopkeeper starts putting everything into a bag. Pathos takes the bag of pastries and flicks a coin to the shopkeeper.
«Pathos» Here.
«Shopkeeper» Pleasure doing business with you.
The shopkeeper puts the coin in one of his pouches and then leans forward, resting his arms on the wooden frame of his stand.
«Shopkeeper» So, about Jhoel... He lives in the northeast part of Serras. Shouldn't be hard to find—since he owns a clothing shop under his own name.
«Pathos» I see.
«Pathos (thinking)» Northeast of the city. How lucky—I managed to find some info already!
Pathos continues thinking while rummaging through the bag. He settles on a muffin, takes it out, and takes a bite. The muffin's sweetness bursts across his tongue, soft and warm like it had just come from the oven, with a hint of cinnamon that made his eyes widen in surprise. He's taken aback, completely astounded by the taste.
«Pathos» W... Wow!?
With pride, the shopkeeper puts his hands on his waist.
«Shopkeeper» Good, huh? Only the best for my customers.
The shopkeeper looks behind Pathos and notices something.
«Shopkeeper» I'm going to have to ask you to leave now.
«Pathos» Huh? Why?
With great pride, the shopkeeper points behind Pathos. He turns and notices a long line waiting.
«Pathos» Oh! There's a big line!
«Shopkeeper» Scram, kid! I got business to deal with!
«Pathos» What a guy. At least these muffins are good. I wonder what the donuts are like.
Pathos leaves, continuing toward his destination. As he walks, he can't help but feel a quiet joy as he looks around. The city fills his heart with a feeling he had almost forgotten. He eventually reaches an open area. To his left stands a large fountain, about 26 meters tall, serving as an intersection for the numerous carriages. But someone is laying on the fountain's edge—a man wearing a white tight shirt and golden-brown pants. A black coat under his head serves as a pillow.
«Pathos (thinking)» Another strange one?... Even with all the noise the carriages make, he's still sound asleep. Must be broke or something.
A bird lands on the man's head and starts pecking at it. Pathos watches in disbelief.
«Pathos (thinking)» He's still sleeping!?
Pathos quickly composes himself. He refocuses on his goal. The inn had to be close—he just needed to look around for a bi—
A loud splash interrupts his thoughts. It came from the fountain. He turns to find the stranger has fallen in—only the coat remains dry.
«Pathos (thinking)» He fell!?
A chill crept up Pathos's spine as he dashed forward. Something didn't feel right. The stranger vanished too quickly. Pathos rushes to the fountain, dodging multiple carriages. He looks in—but sees no one. Then, a loud stomp sounds behind him, followed by a voice.
«???» What a drag... And I just got these.
Pathos turns around, startled. It's the stranger, soaked, twisting his pants in a futile effort to dry them. But Pathos is more concerned with something else.
«Pathos (thinking)» How did he get here so fast!?
The stranger notices Pathos, who appears shocked.
«???» Something wrong?
«Pathos» No... It's just that... how did you get behind me so quickly?
«???» Secrets I can't share, kid. You know how magicians never reveal their tricks?
«Pathos» Yeah?
«???» Think of it like that.
He walks over to his coat near Pathos. Upon closer inspection, he notices something about Pathos—specifically, his chest.
«???» Hm?
Pathos backs off, worried. The stranger's gaze is fixed on Pathos's heart.
«Pathos» W-what?
The stranger's eyes light up like he's discovered something he's waited decades for.
«???» I can't believe it!
He grabs Pathos's shoulders and shakes him violently.
«???» You've awakened your Prometeo too!?
«Pathos» Ah!? I don't know what you're talking about!
The stranger stops shaking him.
«???» The Prometeo! The thing that gives you supernatural powers and makes you a lot stronger!
«Pathos» I've never heard of that!
«???» That's impossible—you have to know what it is!
«Pathos» I'm sorry, but I didn't understand a single word that came out of your mouth.
«Pathos (thinking)» This guy is nuts!
The stranger sighs in disbelief.
«???» The Prometeo—God's gift to humanity, meant to help us fight off demons!
«Pathos (thinking)» What's he talking abou—wait... supernatural powers?
Pathos suddenly remembers the strange lightning he experienced but never understood.
«Pathos (thinking)» So that's what it is... I'm finally starting to understand.
«Pathos» I think I get what you're talking about.
«???» Are you sure?
«Pathos» Yeah, I think I've got the full picture now.
«???» So you do know what it is?
«Pathos» Not really. I just know I have this strange ability, but I didn't know it was called Prometeo.
«???» I see. Well, what you need to know is that the Prometeo is like a flame that resides in your body. Some say it represents the soul, but I think it's more like an engine—specifically for the heart. If you use up too much of it, your body can shut down completely. You could die.
Pathos recalls the night he fainted after seeing his mother in the carriage with the soldiers.
«Pathos (thinking)» That explains why I passed out... I was that close to dying? No wonder I felt like my body was being burned alive.
«Pathos» So what you're saying is—it's like a double-edged sword. You gain powers, but using them too much could kill you.
«???» Exactly.
«Pathos» Does that mean you have this Prometeo too?
«???» Mhm!
The stranger picks up his coat and slings it over his shoulder.
«???» Name's Ruem. Pleasure to meet you!
He extends his hand for a shake.
«Pathos» Ru...em?
«Ruem» Yup.
The stranger's name confuses Pathos, he had never heard someone called that and he heard his fair share of names but this was new to him.
«Pathos» I'm Pathos Raimei.
«Ruem» Raimei? That surname rings a bell.
«Pathos» Really?
«Ruem» Yeah, but I don't remember where I heard it. Weird, right? Oh well!
«Pathos» What's your surname?
«Ruem» Ah, well... I don't have one. I forgot it.
«Pathos (thinking)» How can you forget your own surname?
Pathos reaches out and firmly grabs Ruem's hand for a shake. He quickly notices his hand is still wet from the fall. He looks at it in disbelief. Ruem lets go, unaware of the situation.
«Ruem» So... what's your deal?
«Pathos» My deal?
«Ruem» Well, since you've got those
Ruem spins his finger around the eyes.
«Ruem» "other" eyes, I want to know what your power is. Is it like X-ray? Or—oh!—future sight?
«Pathos» Oh, my power isn't connected to my eyes.
«Ruem» Oh, reeeeally?
«Pathos» Yeah. But. I think I can control thunder...? I'm not sure about it though,
He says this uncertainly. Ruem immediately replies, a spark in his eyes showing his interest towards his power.
«Ruem» That's sick!
«Pathos» Eh?
«Ruem» Show it to me!
«Pathos» W...Wha?
Ruem gets right in his face making deep breaths in anticipation. Pathos on the other hand gets overwhelmed by this much attention.
«Ruem» I want you to show it to me.
«Pathos» Well... I... don't know how to control it willingly, I already tried to use it earlier today but it didn't work.
Ruem's expression falls. His arms and head drop in disappointment.
«Ruem» A...oh. I see. So you still don't know how to control it.
«Pathos (thinking)» What's with that look?
«Pathos» Wait a second.
Ruem lifts his head, curious.
«Pathos» You mentioned that you have Prometeo too, right?
«Ruem» Yeah. What about it?
«Pathos» Can't you teach it to me.
Ruem jolts by the question feeling a bit shy to break it down to him.
«Ruem» Ah... well... I can't.
«Pathos» What? Why?
Ruem scratches the back of his head avoiding eye contact with him, embarrassed.
«Ruem» It's not that I don't want to. It's just that... I didn't really learn how to use it.
«Pathos» What do you mean?
«Ruem» I never learned. I just... knew. Like muscle memory, but in my soul, I guess?
«Pathos» You telling me you can do that instinctively!?
«Ruem» Instinctively...
Pathos's eyes drop to look at the ground. He was still clinging to that bit of hope but a new idea sparked. He too had used the Prometeo instinctively, he wondered if it was just a matter of time before he too became a natural.
«Pathos» Please, I need to know! Tell me how you use your powers and I'll try to copy it.
«Ruem» I guess we can try that.
Ruem takes a stance, spreading his legs apart. He slowly raises his hand and points it in a random direction.
«Ruem» Well... ah... usually, I imagine where I want my power to manifest... then I go Bom. Bom.
«Pathos» Bom. Bom?
Ruem switches hands to explain the next step, still maintaining the stance.
«Ruem» Then, when I want to do something else, I go Pim. Pim.
Pathos stares, struggling to understand. His face darkens with disappointment, but out of desperation, he mimics the stance.
«Pathos» Like this?
«Ruem» Yeah, then do what I did.
Pathos raises his right hand, pointing in the same direction.
«Pathos» BOM!
Nothing happens. A leaf flutters by. That's it. The silence is deafening. Onlookers begin whispering, confused and unsure whether to laugh or feel secondhand embarrassment. Pathos lowers his hand slowly. People nearby start whispering, wondering if they're crazy or just stupid.
«Pathos» It... it didn't work...
Ruem raises both hands with an "I told you so" expression.
«Ruem» I told you. But hey—
He pats Pathos on the back to reassure him.
«Ruem» At least you've got a pretty cool power, if I say so.
Pathos starts playing with a rock on the ground, clearly disheartened.
«Pathos» What's the use of having a power if I can't even use it?
«Ruem» You'll find a way—eventually, I'm sure it's just a matter of time I think.
«Pathos» You're making it worse...
«Ruem» I'm sorry... I'll shut up.
There is a brief moment of silence. Pathos sighs and stands again.
«Pathos» Well... I'm bound to learn it sooner or later.
«Ruem» Yeah... that's the spirit.
Ruem's stomach growls loudly, leaving both Pathos and Ruem shocked.
«Ruem» My bad. I didn't eat anything before I slept on that fountain.
Pathos remembers the sweets he bought earlier and reaches into his bag.
«Pathos» Wait, I have som—
As Pathos turns, he sees Ruem's head stuck in a strange wormhole that formed around him. The edges of the wormhole twist reality itself in a spinning motion. Pathos is immediately alarmed.
«Pathos» NO! Ruem!
Pathos grabs Ruem and yanks him out. They both tumble backward. Ruem coughs, dazed—his face stuffed with a chicken leg. Pathos stares.
«Ruem» V...huat vhats vlong?
«Pathos (thinking)» Oh, he's not dead...?
Pathos sighs in relief as Ruem bites down on the chicken leg. Pathos checks on him, and was left confused. Where did that chicken leg come from?
«Pathos» Is that... a chicken leg?
«Ruem» Yeah, you want some?
He offers it, but notices Pathos's shocked expression and realizes the situation.
«Ruem» Ohhhhhh, that? That's what my Prometeo allows me to do—create wormholes.
«Pathos» W...what?
«Ruem» Well, it's like a tunnel. What you saw was the start of it, and what you didn't see was the end. If something goes through the start, it comes out the end. So yeah—wormholes. I can travel anywhere I've seen without spending months on foot.
Pathos's first thought was that maybe he could rely on Ruem to help him quickly find his mother and bring her back. He quickly grits his teeth with anticipation believing that he had finally found a solution to his situation.
«Pathos» Answer my next question very carefully—
«Ruem» mhm?
«Pathos» —you can travel anywhere?
«Ruem» Yes and no. For some reason, if I try to create a wormhole to a place I've never seen before, it won't work. I don't mind though—I kind of like traveling by foot.
«Pathos» i—i see...
«Ruem» Did I disappoint you?
«Pathos» N..no
«Pathos (thinking)» So that proves it... he appeared behind me using one of those wormholes.
With a second of distraction, Pathos looks back at Ruem, who had taken a piece of burning wood and a giant stick to hang his clothes and a blanket to cover himself while his clothes dried. What Pathos saw was Ruem now wrapped in a blanket, with his clothes hanging on the stick to dry from the heat of the fire.
«Ruem» There we go...
«Pathos» HOW DID YOU DO THAT IN SUCH LITTLE TIME!?
The scene changes. Both of them are now walking along the long roads of the city of Serras. Pathos is still overwhelmed by the city's size, looking around as if he were a lost kitten. Ruem, now wearing his clothes again, notices Pathos's disorientation.
«Ruem» Is this your first time here?
«Pathos» Wha? How did you know?
«Ruem» Lucky guess... So, where are we heading exactly?
«Pathos» Oh right, I forgot to tell you. I'm trying to find someone I know little to nothing about. His name is Jhoel, and he lives northeast of here. Apparently, he owns a clothing shop.
«Ruem» Jhoel... a clothing shop... northeast from here... mhm... Oh no.
Pathos looks at him confused. Ruem suddenly feels a chill as he remembers that name.
«Ruem» I don't know if I can come with you, kid.
«Pathos» What? Why?
«Ruem» No particular reason.
«Pathos» D... Did you do something to him?
«Ruem» No no no. I didn't do anything to him. It's just that...
Ruem scratched his cheek, forcing a grin, though his eyes darted away… unable to meet Pathos's, in an attempt to ease the tension.
«Ruem» I might have stolen some of his clothes while he was working...
«Pathos» YOU DID WHAT!?
Ruem quickly puts his hands together in prayer quickly apologizing to him for his past mistake.
«Ruem» I'm sorry!
«Pathos» You stole something you are a criminal!
Ruem pulled Pathos close, placed his index finger over his own lips, and told him to shush. He replied by whispering
«Ruem» Don't yell out here please
Ruem puts both his hands on Pathos's shoulders.
«Ruem» Look I don't know what idea you got of me now but I'm not that bad. If Jhoel's a friend of yours or something, I'm sorry, but my situation was dire and...
Ruem freezes for a moment, lost in thought. He wanted to tell Pathos something but decided not to, continuing with,
«Ruem» Forget it.
He lets go of Pathos slowly.
«Ruem» Let's just go. I'll try to make it right, but if he reports me to the soldiers, I guess I wouldn't mind it.
«Pathos» And that's fine with you?
«Ruem» I mean... no, but—
His tone shifts to something more comical attempting to ease the tension.
«Ruem» As long as I have my Prometeo, I can get out scot-free!
«Pathos» You are not improving your situation, that would make you an even bigger criminal. Just apologize and hope for the best.
Ruem sighs. He understood Pathos's worries but he didn't want to think of himself as a criminal.
«Ruem» Yeah, I... I know. Besides, I probably shouldn't tell a kid this. Your parents might kill me for it.
Ruem looks ahead. A moment of silence falls between them. Both seem to be hiding something. Pathos starts to consider telling him the truth. About what he did.
«Pathos (thinking)» He's hiding something too... Maybe if I tell him about what happened to me, he could help. He can use the Prometeo, and if I stay with him long enough, I might discover the secrets of the flame.
Pathos hesitated, his hand hovering near his chest. His fingers twitched—just once—before curling into a fist. His trust was a match held over open flame.
«Pathos (thinking)» I have to tell him.
«Pathos» Ruem, listen—
Someone bumps into him with their shoulder, completely knocking Pathos out of their path.
«Pathos» S... Sorry!
The stranger keeps walking but no sound followed the stranger's steps—no crunch of gravel, no swish of cloth. The people around didn't even glance his way, as if their eyes didn't even acknowledge him. Until suddenly he stops.
«???» Wait.
The stranger turns around to look at Pathos. Pathos looks back and quickly notices a long, slitted, vertically elongated pupil staring at him with intense interest. The long stare-down sends shivers down Pathos's spine, his legs beginning to shake.
«???» Who are you?
An intense heat radiates from the stranger. The air begins to shimmer from the overwhelming heat. Pathos remains speechless, both his mind and body screaming to run.
«???» Another question then... Who am I?
His tone turns sharp and commanding. Pathos finally gathers the strength to respond, sweat dripping down his face.
«Pathos» I... I don't know who you are...
The stranger stares at him with unnerving intensity. Ruem, walking ahead and unaware Pathos has fallen behind, hears his voice and turns back.
«Ruem» Did you say something?
As Ruem turns, he sees Pathos and the stranger. The moment he glimpses the stranger, his expression becomes alarmed.
«???» What a shame...
The stranger raises his hand toward Pathos. The air cracked like glass under pressure, heat distorting his silhouette like a mirage inside a nightmare. Pathos tries to run but falls from fear. A purple flame forms in the man's hand, then bursts toward Pathos like a flamethrower. Ruem leaps in at the last second, shielding Pathos with a wormhole.
«Ruem» PATHOS, RUN!
Before he can do more, the wormhole starts burning and dissolves. The flames reach them. Ruem pushes Pathos aside but is caught in the blaze. His screams shatter the surrounding silence. People notice and begin screaming. Pathos stares in horror as Ruem's face starts to bubble, his skin melting away, revealing raw muscle.
«Pathos» RUEM!
Pathos desperately reaches for him but is also caught by the purple flame. It climbs from his arm to his chest, then to his face. Both scream in terror as they try in vain to extinguish it.
«???» There is no use. My flames burn the very soul of whoever they touch. Once it attaches to you... death follows.
«Pathos (thinking)» IT HURTS! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!
Tears streamed silently down his cheeks, unnoticed even by him. His mind clawed for reality, but all he could hear was the echo of screaming—not his own, but Ruem's. He starts thinking of his parents.
«Pathos (thinking)» No... I don't want to die. Mother... Father... help me!
The flames consumed them—Pathos and Ruem—until there was nothing left but scorched bone and silence. Then, the world fractured.
The sound of a film projector whirred softly through the void. The burning city, the screaming—gone. In their place: blackness. And a corpse, smoldering yet unmoving, seated before the screen.
This was not a place. This was memory rendered as machine.
The screen flickered, showing what had just transpired—Pathos's death, Ruem's screams, the purple flame devouring them whole. Yet the figure watching remained still. Charred flesh clung stubbornly to bone. Wounds matched those on the boy—no, they were the boy's. But this thing… it was no longer alive. Nor entirely dead.
A ghost of the future.
As the tape reached its end, the figure stirred. It rose, slow and deliberate. Each movement caused scorched fragments of its body to crumble away, raining into the dark like ash.
With mechanical grace, it approached the projector. Its cracked fingers carefully removed the reels—the very memories of what had just been shown. It held them as if cradling a fragile truth.
Then, a flame appeared. The only light in the void. Not for destruction—but offering. The corpse extended the reels toward the fire, and instead of burning… the flame accepted. The tapes liquefied, dissolving into light—and that light flowed into the flame itself.
No... not into the flame.
Into the boy.
Somewhere, in the flame, Pathos's body twitched violently in his sleep. He curled tighter, sweat pooling at his neck. The flame had passed into him—not as a curse, but a message. A warning. A memory that was never his, and yet now lived inside him.
The corpse, now empty, faded into the darkness, whispering words no flame could burn away. A message for his past self.
«???» This future must not live. And so I let you taste its ash. Burn it now. Or become it.
The figure slowly vanished as the film projector started playing again—however, this time, it replayed what truly happened in the present. Pathos never died, nor did Ruem. Both of them stood in their respective spots near the fountain, engaged in conversation. However, Pathos repeated the same question, as if reading from a script.
«Pathos» Ru...em—
The Kindled's eyes opened, projecting Pathos's future into his very soul—carving his mistake into the present. In the blink of an eye, a thousand images screamed into his skull within a single fraction of a second—Ruem burning, a stranger's eyes, the scent of charred flesh. A second passed. His nose gushed blood.
What he saw was his own future. It wasn't him—yet it was. He had made the same exact decision he would have made. That vision was just a version of him, one that came from his future. A version of himself from one of countless paths. A possible end, burned into his mind like a brand. A warning, not a sentence.
He had seen the future. One future. And now, he had a chance to change it.
His vision returned in shards—Ruem's hand reaching out, the air tasting like ash, his heart thudding like thunder. Suddenly, his face contorted with the memory of everything that had just happened. Despite it being only a vision—the pain, the smells, the taste—he had felt everything.
«Ruem» C'mon, don't freeze up on me now...
Even seconds later, his heart pounded as if trying to escape. His hands trembled, eyes twitching as though seeing echoes of the future around every corner. Pathos collapses, clutching his chest as blood drips from his nose. Ruem panics.
«Ruem» Kid!
Pathos's eyes tremble from the trauma. He slowly gets to his knees—then vomits.