Chapter 3: Bright lights, Dark world

Agi glanced to his side and saw a scene he knew he wouldn’t forget.

She lay beneath the brilliant, indifferent light of the world, her pale skin almost luminous against the dark grass, her black hair spilling just past her shoulders, silky and likely soft to the touch. Her lips were slightly parted, and her breathing rose and fell in the gentle rhythm of sleep.

Occasionally, she would shiver—a subtle tremor as the cold grass brushed her bare skin, the price of wearing a dress and daring to sleep outside. The blindfold that typically covered her eyes had slipped, revealing a glimpse of her face that Agi knew he would remember. He saw the way the slightly wet grass filled in the gaps between her body, the way it lightly brushed against her skin, making her cringe.

Is this… beauty? he murmured, barely aware he’d spoken aloud. How could that other world—the one he’d known—compare? They weren’t the same. They couldn’t be.

“It’s morning,” he called out. She didn’t respond, instead only turning away from the unwelcome stimulus and grumbling.

“Not a morning person,” he concluded, nudging her slightly. How carefree can one person be? Doesn’t she worry at all? It felt nonsensical to him, the way she could sleep in the open so freely and deeply—but then again, hadn’t he done the same?

After a few more attempts, she eventually stirred, scratching her hair and opening her eyes briefly, perhaps an old habit. Agi caught a glimpse of pale red before she pulled the blindfold back over her eyes.

“Good morning.” She yawned sleepily, as if this was her bedroom.

“Good morning? What good morning? Do you realize you slept outside?” He almost couldn’t believe this was a real person.

“It was soft enough; could’ve fooled me.” She stood up, brushing her dress off lightly.

He stared at her for a moment, at a loss, until she pointed to her eyes with a silly grin. “Blind, remember?”

“The chief is likely worried.”

“It’s fine~” Mireille reassured him, humming innocently as she started walking toward the village. “Do you have plans today?” She looked back at him.

Instinctively wanting to avoid her rhythm, he replied, “I do.”

“Hmm… That’s too bad.” She sounded disappointed but didn’t press. Instead, she grinned mischievously. “Maybe I’ll get my dad to make you my servant.”

Agi blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her audacity. Did she really think her father could control him? But somehow, he found himself almost amused by her confidence.

“You have a bit too much faith in your father.”

“You think so?” She tilted her head, considering. “Could you beat him?”

“Easily,” he said, a hint of steel in his voice.

She raised her eyebrows, clearly taken aback by his certainty. “You’re not ordinary, are you?” She “looked” him up and down as if she could see him.

“My past isn’t important,” he replied shortly. “The chief fears a man who should already be dead.”

“Oh?” She seemed intrigued by his choice of words. “And what was his name?”

“He had a lot of names. The most common was… ‘Fear of Man.’”

She laughed lightly. “Oh, scary~ And how’d that one come to be?”

“He killed. And when he was provoked, he killed some more.” His eyes held a distant, bloody resolve, as if he could still see the ghosts of his past battles.

“Was there another?”

“A time before that, he was called something else.” A shadow crossed his face. She looked intrigued but sensed his reluctance and let it drop. After a moment, she brightened.

“Can we walk again sometime?”

Agi didn’t respond immediately. He wasn’t interested in her stories—he wanted to understand how she saw the world.

“If the chance arises.” He held a distant look, as if he were walking into a deep lake and all he could see was the reflection in the water.

Agi was apprehensive to be around her; she was an enigma in his world. Like feeling cold in fire—it didn’t make any sense. Those who experience hardship will undoubtedly feel its weight.

To Agi, these words were an infallible truth. Is it an act? he wondered, skeptically watching her walk away, practically bouncing with each step, as if the world had seen its first sun. He watched the swaying grass, each drop of dew from revenant rain that managed to sneak in beneath the overarching umbrella. Looking at her, he remembered nothing.

It was simply Mireille. And that was a feeling far too dangerous to be left alone.

He watched her from behind. “Should I just deal with her now?” His eyes glinted dangerously.

“I’m sure you can at least spare a morning,” she said excitedly, but stopped with a frown. She didn’t need to turn around to realize he had already left, soundless and without a breath. He had just vanished.

She let out a long sigh, kicking the grass under her bare feet. “What an irritating guy.” She huffed, stomping her way back to the village.

The villagers saw the blind chief’s daughter and avoided her subtly, the children whispering to their parents, quickly hushed and pulled away.

She ignored the villagers, seemingly unaware of their avoidance.

Within her senses, a world existed, different from the world of others. She could make out each individual and object through a strange radar-like ability. It would ghost over the ground, spreading out in waves as she pushed her senses further.

It’s annoying he thinks he can just vanish… She inwardly cursed Agi for being inconsiderate, tapping her finger impatiently against her dress.

“Mireille.” A gruff voice rang out, accompanied by the clacking of boots on stone.

“Chief! How rare.” A few villagers commented on the chief’s appearance in the town center.

“What?” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. It seemed she knew what he was going to say but didn’t want to hear it.

“You’re making the people uncomfortable.” He commented, noting that a few villagers indeed seemed to get an eerie sensation, as if they were being observed in their entirety.

“It’s just a few people with strong ‘Instinct,’” she defended.

“What are you looking for?” Pressing a hand to his forehead with a sigh, he didn’t seem to care for her defensive statement.

“Agi…” She scratched her ear awkwardly.

The chief immediately felt his heart jump. “Agi? Why?” She took a step back, slightly frightened. She had never seen her father react like this before.

She placed a hand over her heart, calming down, and spoke confidently, “You’re good at frightening people,” she let out a breath, “because we were talking and he just vanished.”

He lightly grasped her shoulder and stared sternly. “Do you understand that there is no one else in the world more dangerous for you than that man?”

“Dangerous? Nonsense.” She remembered how easily he fell asleep, how he walked with her reluctantly and even played along with her jokes. She brushed his hand off her shoulder with a frown.

She remembered the way Agi gently held out his hand. Was that an act? No… it seemed natural, like an instinct.

The chief let out a long sigh. “Walk with me, Mireille.” He began to walk slowly.

She was irritated, staring at his back for a moment, considering staying put. Finally, she walked quickly, her feet padding on the bare stone.

“Father, is it really Agi you know?” She didn’t believe that the same man she had spoken with was the one her father described.

“We get members from the order frequently during the week of the emperor.” She nodded silently, acknowledging the festival.

Is he going to go on a tangent? She didn’t want to sit through one of his lectures, hoping he’d get to the point.

“During that time, the hunters often shared their stories. You know this well,” he said, slightly irritated by her habit of sneaking out to listen to the hunters spin their tales.

“The hunters often exaggerate, but there is one tale that they couldn’t exaggerate, no matter how hard they tried.” He spoke as he walked, his arms clasped behind his back as he maintained a steady pace.

His eyes stared distantly. “With a heart as cold as the first frost, and eyes deceitful as they are observant, he was a born hunter—you’ve probably heard this start to their tales countless times.”

He gestured grandly, seeming to forget she couldn’t see. “They would speak of his ruthless executions, his lack of empathy for human life, and his relentless pursuit of man and monster alike.” His eyes seemed to be tinged with respectful fear.

“That man—Agi—is not someone those who live in a place like this can afford to get involved with. You cannot trust his words, nor his actions. Every moment he moves, he furthers you into a trap.”

She snorted in indignation. “Just say you’re scared, Father. You fell for tales, and they’ve made you blind to reality.” She stopped walking, shaking her head.

“Just face it—he is not the man you thought he was, and you can’t accept it.” She felt this was out of character for her father.

He turned around and looked at his naive daughter. “Child, you have not seen him; you’ve met a facade, an extremely well-crafted mask. Do you think this is my first time seeing him?”

She was slightly surprised her father had actually met him. “So?” Regardless, she didn’t believe it warranted comparing him to stories.

The chief looked away, staring up at the dense leaves. “He was just a child back then, a child born with a silver spoon. He sat at the top of our little world.” The chief reminisced, but felt a shiver thinking about that Agi.

“He was born with eyes full of hunger. From the moment he was born, I had heard of how he only plotted the death of others.”

Mireille didn’t want to listen to this, impatiently tapping her feet, rapping her index against her dress.

“I met him once, after he lost his position as the First Lord and fell to the position of Second Lord. In an attempt to get on his good side, there were many members—Agi loyalists—who badmouthed the First Lord.

Over the span of a week, those members disappeared. Not even the esteemed one could find them. The Second Lord was questioned for three weeks, enduring brutal torture, and when he left, his eyes had not changed at all. It was like he was on vacation.”

The chief closed his eyes. “The Agi that came into my home two days ago was certainly a different man. His eyes are clouded in schemes and impossible to read.”

He left his daughter deep in thought, turning back to his home. “I care deeply for you, but I will not always be here. You must become capable of watching for yourself, Mireille.”

The chief seemed momentarily lost in thought. “I wish I could make you see him as I do. But I know you have to find your own way.”

“You can make your own choices, but if you plan to ignore my wishes and continue to play with your life, then don’t expect me to sit still.” She nibbled her lip. Her father had rarely restricted her freedom. He would tell her off when she adventured excessively, but he wouldn’t lock her up.

She knew he was serious, and she didn’t like it. She knew that if he truly intended to prevent her from meeting with Agi, he could. A part of her wanted to believe him, but that part felt distant, irrelevant. The Agi she met wasn’t a monster; he was… something else.

“But can you stop Agi?” She laughed to herself derisively. “Why would he even meet me of his own volition? In the first place, I approached him because he seemed similar to me—the me that had lost her sight.”

Her father contemplated for a moment, then snorted.

“Agi would not seek you out; you have no value to provide him. Well, you might have some answers he wants, but how would he know that?” He patted his daughter’s hair; she raised her shoulders and scrunched up slightly, crossing her arms.

He didn’t make any excuses, but he didn’t provide room for argument either. “I understand if you are upset that I’m restricting your freedom.”

She watched him walk away and, with an irritated gait, went into the home as well.

Despite her father’s warning, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Agi was… different. Different from the stories. Different from her father’s fear. Or maybe she just wanted that to be the case.

Meanwhile, Agi stood near the outskirts of the village, lost in thought. A sensory inheritance? he murmured to himself, but dismissed the idea. Hunters with sensory abilities were rare and in a place like this he doubted they’d exist.

“I’d like to leave and figure out the source but…” His gaze drew forward, A sudden voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Agi!”

He looked up to see a middle-aged woman, hands on her hips, glaring at him. She was scolding him about something—he hadn’t quite caught what—but she didn’t seem to be running out of grievances. Despite the fact that Agi was, by all accounts, an ideal worker, she managed to find a laundry list of things to complain about.

His hand gripped around nothing… muscle memory, perhaps. It felt like the weight of a pole, the solid heft of a spear.

“Auntie, cut ‘em some slack!” one of the younger men called out, laughing. Others joined in, clearly used to this routine.

“Yeah! Agi’s a good guy, he even said you were a nice old lady,” another man chimed in with a wink, “vouching” for him.

The woman’s glare intensified, a vein popping on her forehead. “Old?!” she demanded, her tone dangerously sharp.

Without missing a beat, Agi pointed to the real troublemaker. “Randal told me that we started late today,” he said smoothly, shifting the blame.

She turned to Randal, her attention diverted. “Did you now?” she asked suspiciously.

“Wha—no, I—” Randal stammered, as a few of his friends laughed, egging him on. Agi watched, impressed at how easily they could spin a lie to deflect her wrath. He’d have to be careful around them.

“Auntie,” Agi said, using a familiar tone that felt strange in his own mouth. Her scowl softened for a brief moment, just a fraction of a second, before she resumed her usual severity.

“I plan on taking on more jobs, just for a few days,” he said, adopting a look of mild regret, as though he’d thought it over carefully. In truth, he didn’t particularly care. He just wanted to escape her scrutiny.

The woman paused, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Will you come back?” she asked, her tone casual but with an edge that surprised him. Agi hesitated, a flicker of something he couldn’t quite name stirring inside him.

“I will,” he replied finally.

She sighed and waved him off. “Fine, but don’t get into trouble, or I’ll give you another scolding.” Agi nodded, internally dreading the idea of sitting through another one of her lectures.

He realized he’d missed his planned meeting with the merchant, but for some reason, he prioritized spending time with the woodcutters instead., “See you tomorrow,” He conveniently ignored the quiet pull at the edge of his thoughts, the words crowding his mind, hinting at a reason he wasn’t ready to name.

“Maybe there was something strange I never noticed…” He told himself he’d made the choice for practical reasons, but some part of him knew he’d be back soon, even if he couldn’t say why.

The simplicity of their lives should have been beneath his notice, another act—yet here he was, watching, listening. Maybe there was something here he couldn’t see—or hadn’t learned to see.

Agi trudged through the village, feeling like he was submerged in mud. Sleeping next to another… promising to meet again… Why did I even come here? The question echoed in his mind, but he found himself reluctant to answer.

He wouldn’t meet the merchant now, deciding it would be best to take on another menial task to build a reputation, but right now, he really wanted to get out of this place.

It was far to foreign, and perhaps spending a moment out there–in that place he knows–will refresh his mind.

Inwardly, he wished he had his favorite trap, something called “Silk.” It wasn’t actually silk, but rather a contraption that, with meticulous planning and knowledge, could immobilize nearly anything.

Most hunters didn’t use it, due to lack of training or understanding, but all the most experienced ones held at least a few on hand. It was even common for veteran hunters to travel with a carriage filled with traps and strange contraptions for every conceivable situation. Agi, of course, was no different.

Though he’d discarded that method in recent times—having little need for so many tools—he still always carried Silk. However, when he was sealed, the Order had taken all his traps. He didn’t care about the loss; he didn’t need them. But he preferred to secure a hunt. He didn’t like to see them run, or squirm. He liked to see them dead. It wasn’t bloodlust; it was precision. Control.

He’d learned long ago that a clean kill was better than a desperate chase. Dead monsters left fewer surprises. Dead monsters didn’t come back. So long as you had the knowledge, Silk could do all of this in a place where there were no uncertainties.

As he felt the familiar weight of the rain and the deep cold soaking into his veins, he recalled a memory of his younger brothers following him into the Human Order.

“Agi, just kill the thing. Why bother setting these up?” Asketill had grumbled, his face impassive.

Crouching down, Agi realigned the Silk that had been nudged out of position. He glanced up at his younger brother, his tone stern, his gaze steady. “I know you’re not this naive, Asketill. We set the traps so we can kill it.”

He stood up and walked away without another word, continuing to set the Silk. Ari, the youngest, sighed at Asketill. “When has underestimating a monster ever done us good?”

Agi’s expression remained unchanged, though he wondered now, Are they okay where they are now?

In the present, Agi’s presence seemed to dissolve into the forest as he moved with quiet intent. He didn’t know how the region had changed from the village’s presence, but he intended to find out today.

He moved slowly, observing the trees and the recently spread mud. Noting the utter lack of monsters, he murmured, “It’s strange… This area was an activity zone, the most dangerous area in The End.”

There were common beasts, but the monsters were gone.

“It’s like a siege,” he thought, remembering one of his hardest battles. His teeth clenched involuntarily as the memories flooded back.

He continued to walk, hunting small prey, stabbing out with his feathered spear with lethal precision. Each kill was a single, clean strike. The rain washed away his traces, leaving the dripping, bloody edge of his spear shining with a silver intensity.

He loosely tied his prey to his body and kept moving. He killed only what he needed—a few for eating, and a few for a task in the village.

At one point, he passed by several traps set by villagers. Crude, yet innovative. To them, it may have looked impressive, but to Agi, it was rudimentary. He sneered at the trap. “Why bother laying out these? They search for luxuries even in a place like this? Putting on those bulky sets and treading through dangerous rain to lay a trap that I could out-hunt in less than ten minutes.”

He felt their traps betrayed a complete lack of understanding of this place. If they truly understood the danger, perhaps they wouldn’t feel so inclined to leave the village.

As he moved further, he created a mental image of the slightly altered landscape in his mind. It hadn’t changed much, despite the strange presence of the village. The surroundings were almost the same as they’d been when he lived here in his past.

He glanced at an old oak that sat north of the village. It had a collapsing structure within.

He remembered a time of his youth, “Tough, isn’t it, Pekko?” he murmured. “Could survive one hundred years even after we leave.” He felt a disconnect from the childish smile of his younger self, before he had received his inheritance.

This was an extremely dangerous location. Back then, he and his brothers only dared to sleep in shifts, never lowering their guard, lest they invited the reaper’s caress.

The next few days passed in a silent rhythm. Each dawn, Agi mapped another fragment of the terrain, his path carving a meticulous grid around the village’s borders. On one particular night, he sat on a large branch of a tree, his eyes slitted like a lizard’s.

He stared above at the expansive ocean stretching out before him. He could hear its rippling waves, like echoes of a horror masquerading as a siren. There was no beauty here. He was certain.

And yet, as he closed his eyes and listened to its rupturing waves, he felt inexplicably drawn in.

“Ari would probably tell me if I wanted to know so badly, then he’d just make a boat to carry me there.” Agi chuckled silently to himself, ensuring he didn’t make any noise.

He determined a way forward. “I’ve mapped out this segment of the area. I can likely find monsters if I head past the old oak. Maybe I can escape whatever strange encirclement is keeping monsters away from this place.” With his plan set, he closed his eyes and fell into a light slumber.

Another two days passed. Eventually, he left the strange encirclement around the village. Sure enough… I can already see trails into another territory. The density of monsters hasn’t decreased since back then, and outside this encirclement…

He gazed across the area before him, taking in the hills, tall trees, creeks, and rivers. There was one thing that stood out—a seemingly endless amount of monsters. They looked like beasts, but each had an ability unique to their species, each with physiques unmatchable by those without the heart of a monster.

It was too dangerous to push ahead right now. He still needed to observe, but his meeting with Old Michael was drawing closer. They had agreed to an alternative date if one couldn’t make it to the first. He wanted answers in the village more than he wanted to hunt, so he decided to put this expedition on hold.

Agi turned back, preparing to head to the village, when suddenly—

SWISH!

He sidestepped instinctively, dashing forward as a blur of striped feathers sliced through the air beside him. Scales crawled up his arms, stopping just before his face, and his eyes narrowed into slits. His hand clenched tightly around his spear.

The talons clashed against his spear in a shower of sparks and splashing rain. The impact echoed through the forest, startling nearby creatures. Some monsters scrambled away in fear, while others turned toward the noise, drawn by the promise of blood.

Agi clenched his teeth. He was outmatched, restricted by the seal and swarmed by monsters that seemed to converge on his position. The eagle circled above, preparing to dive again. This time, its sharp beak gleamed with the intent to kill.

Agi readied himself. The bird struck, its talons scraping against his scales, which barely absorbed the damage. He lunged forward, his spear thrusting upward with precision, piercing deep into the eagle’s neck.

“Damn it…” he muttered. He knew better than to think it was over. The disconnect he felt between his planned action and actual action was severe, “I should have been training…”

“Even if they draw no breath, their heart still beats.” It was a saying among hunters, a reminder to never leave a monster with its heart intact, for it was never truly dead until then.

Sure enough, the Striped Eagle let out a bone-rattling screech, its sharp beak plunging into Agi’s side in a desperate counterattack. Agi snarled, gripping his spear tighter. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried the blade into the eagle’s heart. The creature’s eyes dulled, and it fell limp in his grip.

ROAR!

A monstrous lion lunged forward, its golden mane soaked with rain, tearing the eagle’s body from Agi’s grasp. Agi didn’t fight it. He took the opportunity to retreat, leaving the lion to claim the kill. This was no place to be without the proper preparation.

He backed away as the lion let out a triumphant roar, attracting even more monsters. They swarmed over the eagle’s corpse, tearing it apart in a frenzy, some fighting each other for scraps of flesh. But not all of them were satisfied with the dead. Several sets of glowing eyes turned to Agi, drawn to the hybrid blood dripping from his side.

A large cat pounced at him, its claws raking his back. Agi staggered forward, wincing as pain shot through him. He felt the weight of his prey falling from his body. He lifted a hand to his mouth, a translucent droplet forming on his fingertip. It was bright orange, shimmering faintly even in the dim forest light.

As the droplet fell to his tongue, he swallowed it in a single fluid motion. The toxin flooded his system, granting him a sudden, potent burst of energy. He didn’t have time to savor the bitter taste—how pleasant could poison be, anyway?

His veins glowed faintly with an orange hue before the light vanished. He could feel his muscles start to tighten under the toxin’s effects, as if his own power were a live wire barely held in check. Each heartbeat pumped more strength into his limbs, but also sent a tremor of pain through his veins.

There was no time to think. He spun, bringing his elbow down on the leaping feline’s skull, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath his weight. Blood sprayed across his face, its metallic taste sharp on his tongue. He didn’t stop, thrusting his spear down through the beast’s chest, pinning it to the earth.

But before he could catch his breath, something rammed into him from the side, sending him sprawling across the mud. He rolled three times, vision spinning as he tried to regain his footing. His hand flicked, and his embedded spear burst into color, reappearing in his grip. Agi lunged back to his feet, his side throbbing with pain. He spat blood and cursed under his breath. A blue-scaled rhino? He was lucky it hadn’t gored him.

He prepared to lunge, but before he could, a massive boar barreled into the rhino, tusks flashing in the rain. Agi didn’t hesitate—he turned and sprinted, using the distraction to put distance between himself and the fray.

If I weren’t sealed… He cut off the thought with a flash of bitterness. Even twenty of these beasts would be nothing to him at full strength. But here and now, it was a waste of precious moments to dwell on what could have been.

But the pressure didn’t let up, a smaller bird flung into his shoulder, he could feel it pumping poison but it only served to make him stronger.

He cursed inwardly, “I can’t cope with the drawbacks of the poison…” he thought, feeling his body strain under the toxin’s effects. “I’ll have to return to the village quickly.”

For now, the high of the toxin masked the pain of his wounds, making the blood running from his side seem almost negligible. But he knew better than to trust the intoxicating power for long. Soon, it would turn on him.

He grabbed the small bird, crushing it into a paste of blood even as it struggled.

Another beast lunged but he was now prepared, sidestepping he swung his spear splitting the beast in half. He stood there staring at the five remaining monsters, he could outrun at least three of them, but the remaining two had to die.

“If I kill one…”

He bursted forward with a speed that didn’t make sense for his current strength, his spear quickly reaching a large snake like monster, its head was torn from its body as Agis’ spear erupted with unnatural force.

Using the opportunity of the monsters lunging for its corpse he sped off again.

He crossed an invisible boundary, feeling the shift in the air. Behind him, the monsters stopped their pursuit, growling and tearing into each other instead. They wouldn’t cross into this area. Agi slowed his pace slightly, but didn’t dare lower his guard. He could feel the toxin beginning to fade, his body already protesting the sudden withdrawal.

Each step brought a fresh wave of pain. It felt as though his flesh was being torn from his bones, yet he forced himself onward, knowing that to stop would be to invite death.

Every step jarred his side, the wound bleeding freely despite his best efforts to ignore it. His vision blurred, and the world around him narrowed to a single goal: the village gate. He gritted his teeth, willing himself to keep going, but his legs felt like lead, and each breath sent new waves of pain through his body.

Panting, he finally reached the village gates. He wanted to straighten up, to walk in as though nothing had happened, but his body betrayed him. He staggered, each step draining his strength further.

“Am I safe here… or will the chief just take the opportunity to kill me…” He laughed at his own stupidity, the sudden loss of adrenaline making him feel light headed.

He staggered, the village gates looming before him. His pride urged him to stay upright, to show no weakness, to disappear back into the shadows and tend to his wounds alone. But each step drained his strength, leaving him no choice.

“I will not die… I won’t die…” He mindlessly murmured to himself, slowly stumbling to the village gate, his side bleeding continuously and his eyes distant and dazed. “Why do I even care…”

He could feel the increasingly pounding pain, the drawback of his toxin. Every step was heavy, they each felt like his last. But Agi had been on the brink of death countless times, so what made this one different?

“Oh…” He realized why he was so desperate this time… What made this one different? “I’m alone.” He realized, the rain stung his skin, seeping into the cuts along his side, filling his world with sharp, pulsing pain. His vision blurred, the dim shapes of the village gate blending with the shadows clawing at the edges of his sight. He tasted iron and dirt as his knees hit the ground, and with a final, bitter thought, his body gave in, collapsing against the earth.

“A-Agi?!” A voice echoed out into Agi’s mind, his head ringing and pulsating in raw pain. Evans quickly ran over, “William! Quick, help me carry him!” Was the last thing Agi heard as he settled into unconsciousness.

The village bustled as always, life continuing as if nothing had changed. Agi’s struggle for survival was a silent battle, unseen and unremarked upon.

He awoke to a dull, throbbing pain. His eyes opened slowly, his vision hazy. A familiar voice drifted into his awareness.

“Oh, you’re awake? How resilient,” it said, overlapping with a hazy image from his past—a burly man with antlers, foggy in his mind and for a moment, he felt an inexplicable urge to reach out, to cling to that fading memory.

But the image dissolved as his eyes focused on the present. He was back in the village, his body aching, his mind clouded.

I survived another day in The End… but for what? He felt no thrill in the blood on his hands, no satisfaction in the hollow silence that followed. The old purpose he’d once clung to had become nothing more than a vague echo.

The thought of returning to the village, of returning to… someone… familiar, crept unbidden into his mind. He shook it off, focusing instead on each agonizing breath, each small movement that reminded him he was still alive.