[Location: ???]
[Time: ???]
Time soon passed, and with his eyes closed Damien began to do something he hadn't done in a long while.
Dream.
The smell of sulfur and rotting monster flesh faded.
It was replaced by the scent of cheap noodles, instant beef tallow, and old dust.
Damien opened his eyes.
At this moment wasn't in the ribcage of a leviathan. He wasn't huddled against a rock wall with Isabelle on his lap.
He was sitting in a rickety wooden chair. The air was freezing.
A radiator in the corner clanked and hissed, failing to fight off the winter chill seeping through the thin window pane. Outside, heavy snow fell against a backdrop of grey concrete high-rises.
Damien looked down at his hands.
The calluses from holding a sword were gone.
The scars from the constant battle were gone. His skin was soft, pale, and unweathered.
He wasn't wearing his Abyss-stained trench coat, he wasn't wearing his signature Zero mask
