The ancient ruin let out a deep scent of old soil, mixing with something sweet and strange. It hung in the air, almost like it was calling Ryuxian forward. He followed it, and Mo Yu silently walked behind him.
The path suddenly ended at a high cliff. They stood there for a moment, silent, taking in the view. Below them stretched a field of glowing white flowers—soft, ghostly light blooming across the darkness.
Without a word, they shifted to the side where the cliff sloped gently down. They moved slowly, step by step, into the glowing field below. The white flowers blooms gave off light, but no warmth. "It felt like they had stepped into a realm untouched by gods or mortals — a stunningly magical space, glowing with the eerie light of white flowers."
"The more we try to reach the sector," Ryuxian said quietly, "the more lost we get. Don't you feel that?"
Mo Yu gave no response. His eyes were cold. Focused. Ryuxian glanced at him, but didn't press. He knew Mo Yu wouldn't talk unless he wanted to.
They kept walking, side by side.
Then Mo Yu froze. He looked down. Something wet had touched his foot.
Sticky, Thick.
It was blood.
He stared, then slowly turned around. A trail of bloody footprints followed behind him. His own steps were soaked in red—but there were no wounds on his legs. Nothing on his body. Ryuxian frowned. "Is someone bleeding?"
But neither of them was hurt. Ryuxian crouched, squinting at the ground. He bent down, grabbed a flower that had fallen loose. Nothing happened. He dropped it.
Then he reached out and touched one of the flowers still connected to the plant and everything changed.
The moment his fingers brushed the petal, the flower began to bleed. Thick red drops soaked the soil. Mo Yu's eyes widened, and Ryuxian froze.
The air shifted. The silence shattered.
In a flash, the flowers around them began to touch one another—petal brushing petal, like a wave rolling outward. Every flower they touched also began to bleed.
One by one.
Then all at once.
The entire field bled red.
The white glow turned crimson. The soil turned wet. The air filled with a heavy metallic scent. The glowing beauty turned into something sick, alive, and watching them.
The ground trembled beneath their feet. Mo Yu stepped back, hand already on the hilt of his weapon. Ryuxian stood still, stunned. "What… is this?" But there was no answer. Only the sound of the field breathing.
The more they tried to move forward, the more the space bent around them. Like the field was alive—and refusing to let them go.
Mo Yu muttered something under his breath. "Tch… this place… it's cursed." Ryuxian didn't respond. He just stared at the bleeding flowers. Something about them felt familiar. Painfully familiar. He whispered, echoing the words Lynx once told them before departure:
"Walk not as warriors—but as echoes seeking themselves. The mountain remembers who bleeds in silence."
And now… the flowers bled too.
Moyu heard a whisper—soft, bitter, laced with blame.
"You could've saved them."
His eyes widened. The voice wasn't familiar, but it hit like someone dragging nails across his heart.
At the same time, Ryuxian flinched as a cold breath danced past his ear.
"You were never enough, even when you gave everything."
A surge burst from the soil beneath them, not just tremors—but fury. The ground cracked open. Two enormous, pulsating veins shot up from beneath, glowing faintly like ancient arteries of something long-dead but never forgotten.
Before either of them could react, the veins slithered around them like serpents. Thick, fleshy roots exploded from the earth and formed towering walls between them.
They were separated.
Ryuxian's voice echoed, distant and distorted.
"Moyu—?!"
But it was too late. The world flipped.
The roots dragged them down with violent force, into a chasm that didn't exist a second ago. They didn't fall.
They were swallowed.
Darkness turned red. The air turned to water—or worse—blood.
Ryuxian's limbs flailed as thick red liquid surrounded him. It wasn't water. It was heavier. Sticky. His lungs screamed, choking with every desperate gasp. No air. No way out. His mind buzzed as his vision began to blur.
Moyu thrashed, but he couldn't move properly. Every motion dragged more liquid into his mouth. The taste—metallic and suffocating.
Somewhere in the depths of this red sea, the whispers continued.
"You let them die."
"You failed again."
"Why are you still alive?"
Just as the darkness felt like it would consume them whole—
A light blinked. Once.
Twice.
A pulse.
Ryuxian gasped—woke up with a jerk. His whole body drenched in sweat. Breathing like he just ran miles.
He sat up. Looked around.
The ceiling… it wasn't stone, or cracked tiles from an ancient ruin.
No… this was normal.
Too normal.
He touched his face.
Still warm.
Pinched his elbow.
"Och—damn, that hurts…"
A pause.
"Am I... back? To Earth?"
He muttered under his breath.
"No way. Why the hell would I be back here...?"
His feet touched the cold ground. The air felt too dry. Too dull. He stumbled to the mirror and stared.
That reflection…
"This is me...? This is my face?"
It was fine.
Average. Okay-looking. Maybe a bit charming if someone looked long enough. But not what he remembered.
"Where's my hair? My eyes? That other face..."
He scoffed.
"What am I saying... that's not me either, right? That wasn't even my real face to begin with. Then why..."
The thoughts began to tangle.
"Why am I questioning this face? The face I was born with... but didn't I die with this same face too?"
The mirror didn't give answers. It just stared back with silence.
"So what now... I have two faces? Which one's me?"
His head pounded.
Hard.
He clenched his teeth, gripping the edge of the sink.
But it kept throbbing, like something cracking inside.
"He thought he came back seeking closure. But Earth whispered: you've already left."
He stumbled. Dropped to the floor.
"I DIED!!"
The scream ripped out of his throat.
"WHY AM I HERE?! WHY THE HELL AM I ALIVE?!"
His fingers dug into his scalp.
"I was a serpent! In a world where people could break mountains! I had power—purpose! What is this place?! What is this damn ceiling!?"
Tears started falling. Slowly, then faster.
"Do I want to go back...? To that world... that chaos... those people... the pain… the blood… but—at least I belonged..."
He sniffled. Sat there for a while. Let his breathing settle.
Grabbed his yellow puffer jacket. Pulled on his black cap. And walked out.
The streets buzzed with sounds he once knew. School kids shouting, laughing. Office workers dragging their tired bodies home. Neon signs blinking. Car horns blaring.
It should've felt comforting.
But instead—it felt like something was missing.
Like he was walking through a dream that belonged to someone else.
He kept walking. Until the sun was gone. Until the streetlights flickered. Until he reached a corner where no one stood.
A trash bin overflowed—stinking, disgusting, rotting smell like something died days ago. The smell hit him in the chest.
And there. Leaning on the side. A mop stick.
He picked it up.
Something snapped.
He hit the trash with it.
Once. Twice. Over and over.
"I DON'T BELONG HERE!"
"I DON'T KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE!!"
"WHY THE HELL AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO REMEMBERS EVERYTHING?!"
Tears blurred his vision.
His breath cracked.
But he kept swinging. again and again that he never do that in even in dream
The mop cracked in half. Trash flew everywhere. A cat yowled in the distance and bolted.
He stood there alone in dark corner in the smelly place .. Shaking. eyes red.
Alone. tears overflowed his face he cried and loosed his grip on legs sit on the place begin to cry like a child that no one cares and wanted to be known at least for himself ..
He cried.
Enough.
The tears dried up, but his chest still burned.
His breath slowed.
He looked up.
The dark sky hung above him. Heavy. Silent.
Stars blinked here and there—tiny, almost lost in the city glow.
And then—
"What...?"
His voice cracked.
His throat hurt.
His hands trembled.
"WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT FROM UP THERE?!"
He screamed at the sky.
"YOU WANTED ME TO ACCEPT YOU?! YOUR EXISTENCE?!"
His voice echoed through the empty street.
"I'M A SCIENCE STUDENT, DAMMIT!! NOT SOME FAIRYTALE BELIEVER!!"
"AM I A CHILD TO YOU?! DO YOU WANT ME TO PRAY NOW?! FALL ON MY KNEES AND BEG?!"
He laughed.
Then cried again.
His knuckles turned white from clenching the broken mop handle.
Then—
Light.
A soft hum.
Golden mist swept through the alley like wind carrying warmth.
Someone stood before him.
No—something.
The most majestic, kindest presence his eyes had ever witnessed.
A glowing soul clothed in a long robe that danced in red, white, and black, woven like rivers of life themselves.
His very outline shimmered like it wasn't entirely real.
Like the universe painted him in gold.
And that voice—
"You asked for this."
The voice echoed from everywhere—and nowhere.
"Live."
His tone wasn't kind.
It was true. Solid like thunder behind calm rain.
"You think we can control what we created?"
The figure took a step forward, golden mist curling at his feet.
"No. You always had the choice. And now, after all the chances... all the ti... you feel empty now?"
Ryuxian couldn't speak. His mouth was open, breath hitched.
The figure raised a hand.
"You thought you were broken? Nah, you were just cracked open. Now rebuild."
"Tell me—what do you want now?"
"In your heart."
"Not what you pretend to want."
"What do you really want?"
A pause.
"Say the word—everything will begin again."
The wind held its breath.
Time seemed to stall.
The broken alley turned into a shrine under the weight of that presence.
Ryuxian's lips parted, voice low, shaking.
"I wasn't chosen by fate—I was left behind by it."