But suddenly—
In the midst of his deep practice of the Ethereal Mind Scripture,
Jake felt something shift.
The flow of mental energy halted, and another presence began to stir inside his consciousness.
It was faint at first, like a forgotten whisper echoing from a past long buried…
Then, without warning, the Life of Memories technique—
the one he had only partially recalled—
started running on its own.
Jake's eyes snapped open, yet everything around him was swallowed by darkness.
He couldn't stop it, couldn't resist it—
his consciousness was being dragged deeper and deeper into an abyss of black.
Then—
A blinding white light tore through the void.
It expanded in every direction, filling his vision until nothing else remained.
Slowly, that brilliance began to take form—
a scene began unfolding before him.
Jake watched silently, realizing what he was seeing wasn't a dream.
It was… a memory.
A memory of himself.
He saw a figure—his soul—standing tall and complete, far stronger than his current fractured state.
The air was thick with ominous energy,
and the building around him was drenched in darkness,
its twisted pillars glowing with dim, crimson light.
It felt like a hall of judgment,
a place that existed somewhere between life and death.
It felt… like Hell itself.
Jake understood instantly—
This was the place he had come after he died.
From the far end of the dark hall, a shape emerged.
A tall figure, cloaked entirely in shadow,
his face hidden beneath a black hood that seemed to devour light itself.
The air around him warped;
every breath Jake took felt like it could shatter his soul.
That presence…
It was the same one he had faintly sensed before—
The cloaked man stepped closer, his aura like a silent storm.
Jake couldn't see his face—
not then, not now.
Even in memory, his features were erased from existence.
Then, the figure spoke.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of the universe—
a deep, powerful tone that shook the hall itself.
"Do you seek… a second chance to live?"
The words hit Jake's soul like thunder.
He remembered that moment—the helplessness, the fear, the hunger to exist again.
He had lost everything, yet before that question… something inside him refused to surrender.
Without hesitation,
Jake's past self looked up, meeting that unseen gaze.
"Yes."
The word left his lips like a vow—
not a plea for mercy,
but a declaration of defiance against fate itself.
Jake's heart pounded like war drums.
He didn't want to die.
Not again.
Not like this.
He wanted a second chance—
a chance to rewrite everything, he wants to meet that person again.
But the moment his gaze met that thing before him…
the will to speak vanished.
The cloaked figure stood tall, silent, his very presence devouring the air itself.
And then—
two crimson eyes flared open beneath the hood.
They weren't merely glowing—they burned.
Their gaze pierced through Jake's soul like blades of divine fire,
each glance forcing him to his knees.
It wasn't just fear.
It was as if those eyes carried the laws of death themselves.
Jake trembled.
His throat refused to move.
Words that should have been shouted—"I want to live!"—
remained trapped within his chest,
crushed beneath that suffocating pressure.
He could feel his soul trembling, cracking at the edges.
And yet, deep within that collapsing consciousness,
a thought flickered faintly—
Is this… destiny?
The silence stretched, heavy and infinite.
Then, in the stillness, Jake realized—
this wasn't a curse.
It was a test.
Perhaps fate itself was offering him the chance he had begged for.
The cloaked man's voice thundered once again,
reverberating through the very walls of the dark hall.
"Why," he said slowly, each word a hammer of judgment,
"should I give you a second chance?"
The world trembled.
Jake's legs gave out,
and he collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest as the pressure multiplied.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't move.
That presence was tearing him apart from the inside—testing his essence.
The figure took a single step forward.
The hall quaked.
The red light in his eyes blazed brighter.
"Prove your worth."
"Try to stand."
The words echoed like divine commandments.
And in that instant, Jake understood—
this was no mercy.
This was a trial.
If he could not stand before this being,
he did not deserve life.
His vision blurred, his soul screamed—
but his mind whispered only one thing:
I will stand… no matter what it takes.
The world inside the memory trembled.
Jake's soul-form knelt upon the cold, black floor, every breath a struggle beneath the invisible weight pressing down on him. It was as if a mountain had fallen from the heavens and chosen him as its foundation.
His limbs quivered. His chest burned. His entire being screamed for relief—yet the pressure only grew heavier.
That dark hall, drenched in crimson light, seemed to swallow every sound, every hope.
The black-cloaked figure stood before him, unmoving. The red glow beneath his hood burned like molten rubies, sharp and merciless.
Jake's body gave out at last. He collapsed face-first against the ground, soul-light flickering weakly. Is this it…? he thought. So much for a second chance.
But then—
A voice, deep and resonant, cut through the darkness.
"Try to stand," it said. "Prove your worth."
Those words struck something within him—something buried, something defiant.
Jake's mind roared. Prove my worth?
He clenched his fists. Sparks of golden light rippled through his fading form. The suffocating pressure crushed down harder, yet inside his chest a small flame ignited—a desperate, stubborn will to live.
He gritted his teeth, his knees trembling as he forced them beneath him. The pressure hammered against him, grinding his bones of spirit into dust, but he didn't stop. Inch by inch, he pushed himself upward.
The cloaked man's crimson eyes narrowed slightly beneath the hood.
Interesting, the man thought. Even at the edge of erasure… this one still dares to resist.
The air rippled. The floor cracked. The crushing energy flared again as if to break him once and for all—but Jake roared, his entire soul blazing with light.
"I… will… stand!"
With a sound like thunder shattering chains, Jake rose to his feet.
The light around him surged, defying the weight that sought to bury him.
For a long moment, the cloaked man said nothing. Then a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged beneath the darkness of his hood.
"Good," the figure murmured, voice echoing through the hall like judgment. "You may yet be worth the chance."
The suffocating pressure vanished. The black hall dissolved into fragments of light, fading away into the void of memory.
And Jake—gasping, trembling, victorious—stood tall in that vanishing world, his soul blazing brighter than ever before.