Zeth turned away, his steps heavy yet resolute, and walked off. Before his figure completely vanished from sight, one final sentence slipped from his lips—cold, trembling like the prayer of a fanatic.
"The night of destruction… will drown this world."
The air in the narrow alley swallowed his words, storing them like poison clinging to the walls of old brick.
The faint chime of the claymore that had been embedded in the ground faded as well, leaving behind a piercing silence.
Zeth's form dissolved into grains of deep violet smoke, drifting lightly, scattered by the cold wind until they dispersed in every direction—leaving behind only a metallic scent and a lingering, oppressive chill.
There, Kael remained on his knees. His shoulders rose and fell; his breathing was short and labored, his lungs feeling as though they were being strangled by the tightening cold.
His vacant gaze fixed on the spot where his uncle had stood moments ago. His eyes trembled, struggling to accept the bitter reality that had once again been forced upon him.
Then he blinked once.
In that instant, the light in his eyes changed. His brows lowered, his jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together with a faint, brittle sound.
"…A traitor like you… I will never let you live any longer. If I return… if I make it out of this trial, I will find you. And I will take back everything you stole from me."
His voice was low, cold, sharp like a freshly honed blade. Those words were not merely a threat—but a vow carved into his own heart.
Yet before that resolve could fully take hold, a thin sound rose from behind him.
Tap.
Tap.
Footsteps. Light, but unmistakable.
Kael frowned, his ears twitching as they caught the rhythm, though his mind was still ensnared by the emotional wound Zeth had left behind. He exhaled, trying to shake off the lingering tremor.
But the footsteps drew closer.
And then—
The figure appeared right in front of him.
A woman in a black robe. Appearing suddenly, as if she had passed straight through his body.
Kael jolted violently. His eyes flew wide open, his body instinctively stumbling a step back. His heart slammed against his chest, scorching his already ragged breath.
Sh—she…?! His voice caught, on the verge of breaking.
The woman walked past him calmly, producing no sound other than the soft taps of her footsteps against stone. The dark hood still concealed her face; only strands of pale blond hair spilled out, faintly gleaming under the red neon light hanging above the alley.
Her face was hidden, yet Kael could feel a gaze piercing through the darkness—a cold, heavy stare, like a blade stripping his heart bare.
Slowly, Kael stood up. His body remained tense, his breathing still uneven. His words slipped out in fragments, more like whispers to himself.
How could she emerge from my body like that? Since when was she… hiding inside? I was the one searching for her first… so why is it her who surfaced from me now?
Impossible. His mind rejected an answer too absurd to accept. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the anxiety creeping into his chest. It made no sense.Who is this woman, really…? The people I've met here—I can remember their true faces. But her existence… it's far too unfamiliar.
The woman remained silent.
In the next second, her body shifted slightly as she turned her head. Her gaze fell upon Kael's past self—the holographic figure lying on the ground, chest split open, white light pouring out from the exposed wound.
Kael swallowed hard. His eyes followed the direction of her gaze. His body stiffened.
She's… looking at my body? he murmured. Was she waiting for this moment all along? Waiting until Zeth left… so her presence wouldn't be noticed…
Silence pressed down on the alley, broken only by the cold wind carrying the faint flutter of her cloak.
The woman moved forward. Her black coat lifted lightly, following her calm steps toward Kael's past body.
An ominous premonition stabbed into Kael's chest. He flinched, his voice cracking with tension.
What is she going to do to me?
The woman knelt beside Kael's past self. Her fingers—pale, slender, and cold—reached out, touching the shoulder riddled with cracks of light. She remained still for a long moment, as if listening to something only she could perceive.
Then her lips moved, releasing a sentence that drifted through the air like an empty incantation.
"…Still the same as before. Crumbling, shattered… yet holding onto a faint pulse. Always refusing to go out."
Her voice was flat, almost devoid of emotion—yet beneath it lingered a subtle note that resembled longing.
Kael froze. His brows knit together, his inner voice breaking apart.
…She's speaking… as if she's known me for a long time? But I've never seen her before.
The woman kept her gaze fixed on Kael's past body. Her fingers moved toward the open wound, tracing the fissures of white light that seeped out like congealed blood.
"You're still too stubborn to die," she said coldly. "Even when the world itself chose to discard you… you refused to disappear. That's why I'm here."
Those words pierced Kael. His breath hitched, his chest tightening.
…Could it be… was she the one who saved me back then? From all that filth, all that betrayal… this person? Her?
The woman paused. Her shoulders trembled faintly—whether from a quiet breath or from holding back heavier words, it was unclear. Then her voice fell again, cold yet laden with meaning.
"I didn't save you. I only… moved you. To a place where you could sleep… and wait for this world to change."
The words fell like icy daggers, stabbing straight into Kael's heart.
A place to sleep…? he whispered, his eyes widening. And suddenly, a fragment of memory flashed through his mind. Cryostasis… the first place I saw when I woke up…
At last, the woman turned her head. From beneath the hood, a sharp crimson gleam was faintly visible—cold, clear, like a sky meant only to be gazed upon, never grasped.
Her voice trembled low, as if she were speaking to herself.
"Yes. That's where you were hidden. Not because I wanted to… but because you had to remain. Because you… are the only one who can open the path."
Kael went still. His eyes widened, his breath stopped. His clenched hands trembled, his teeth pressed tightly together.
A path…? What path are you talking about? Why does everyone place that burden on me?!
The woman did not answer.
She lowered her gaze back to Kael's past body. Her fingers drew closer, and then—slowly but firmly—she lifted that body into her arms, as if taking up a weight she had long prepared herself to bear.
Kael stared in shock. His face drained of color, his voice breaking.
"Wait! Where are you taking him?!"
There was no reply. Only a thin mist began to envelop the woman's body. And in an instant, her silhouette faded—along with Kael's past self, held tightly in her arms.
"Answer me!!" Kael shouted, stepping forward, his hand reaching out… only to grasp empty air.
"Damn it! She disappeared so fast…"
In the blink of an eye, they were gone. The alley fell silent once more, leaving behind only the lingering cold clinging to the air, biting into bone.
"…Why… did you take me away? Where… did you hide him?" he murmured softly.
Kael clenched both fists and lowered his head, his jaw hardening. His thoughts spun wildly, crashing against a wall of silence that offered no answers. Until, at last… a whisper of instinct slipped into his mind.
"The Tyrak underground laboratory… is that really where you took me? But… where's the way in? This world… it's as if it keeps trying to hide it from me."
And for the first time, fear mingled with hope wrapped around his heart. Because if the answer truly lay there, then the remaining truth… would not stay hidden much longer.
Kael lifted his head, his eyes glinting, his jaw set.
"I don't have time. I have to find it… with my hunter's instinct."
He turned sharply, his cloak fluttering in the cold wind. Without waiting any longer, he stepped out of the alley—heading into the depths of a faintly trembling world, toward Tyrak's underground laboratory, however distant it might be… yet now feeling so close.
.
.
Shifting to another place…
A single set of footsteps echoed softly, descending a narrow corridor almost devoid of light. Only a thin line of illumination pulsed weakly along the floor—pale blue—guiding the way toward the end of the passage. The metal walls, damp with cold condensation, reflected the sound of his boots, making each step feel heavier than it should have.
At last, he stopped before a black metal door. Its surface was smooth, cold, unmarked—save for a single blue line at its center, pulsing slowly, like the heartbeat of a sleeping machine. He drew a deep breath, then pressed his palm against the biometric panel.
Shrrt—
The line of light spread instantly, and the door slid open with deliberate slowness. A wave of cold air greeted him, carrying with it thin white vapor that spilled outward like frozen mist. He narrowed his eyes, bracing against the chill that crept swiftly into his bones.
And beyond the door—lay a vast hall, hidden deep within the earth.
His steps faltered. He looked up, taking in the breadth of the space with a strange mixture of awe and unease. The hall was not circular like most Tyrak facilities. It was rectangular, stretching far inward, its high ceiling reinforced with steel ribs. Above, rows of pale blue neon lights glowed dimly, their light swallowed by the cold mist hanging in the air.
The metal floor, layered with transparent glass, reflected faint light from glowing blue pipelines pulsing beneath it. Their flow twisted like veins, spreading in every direction before converging at the center of the room.
There—he saw it.
A transparent capsule stood upright.
It was unlike Tyrak's crude designs. Sleek, smooth, as if it had been created not merely to freeze a body, but to preserve something more delicate—a soul. Its surface was lightly frosted, and beyond it, a faint silhouette of a body lay peacefully within.
He inhaled, then stepped forward slowly, letting his gaze sweep across the entire chamber.
To the right, glass racks were arranged in neat rows, each holding small cryo-tubes. Inside them, green plants, organic tissue, even experimental animals slept in frozen stillness beneath dim blue light. With each row he passed, his chest tightened, as if he were witnessing a garden torn from life and forced into suspension by time itself.
On the left, his attention was caught by a large transparent container filled with silvery metallic liquid.
Nanites.
The fluid moved slowly, undulating as though it were breathing, reflecting an unsettling sheen whenever the neon lights above flickered. He forced himself not to stare for too long; there was something profoundly inhuman in the liquid's subtle motion, as if it were watching him in return.
He walked farther in, toward the heart of the hall. Around the central capsule, holograms floated in the air—data displays showing virtual heart-rate graphs, tissue reconstructions, biometric records layered with dense code. From time to time, a robotic arm on the right moved with delicate precision, dripping purple liquid into a reagent tube. Tiny sparks flared, then vanished, like dying stars.
Silence reigned—broken only by the soft, rhythmic hum of machines, like the breathing of the room itself.
Then something else caught his eye.
At the far end of the hall, near a holo-board covered in scribbled formulas and sketches, stood a small corner—simple, almost out of place amid the cold machinery.
He approached.
On a plain metal table lay a stack of physical books, worn notebooks filled with ink, and among them stood a small photo frame. The face inside was blurred, faded by time, yet it was clearly no meaningless decoration. There was something there—a personal reason that justified the existence of this entire place.
His hand almost reached out, wanting to touch the frame, but he stopped himself.
A faint melody drifted from hidden speakers in the ceiling—classical music, soft, flowing gently through the air. An odd contrast seeped into his chest: on one side, cold technology; on the other, the warm traces of a human desperately trying to save something they could not let go.
He took a long breath.
This laboratory… was not merely an experimental facility.
It was an altar.
The machines, the nanites, the capsules, the aetherial light within these walls were not just technical instruments. They were prayers—the prayer of a genius, a prayer that sought to defy death, a prayer that hoped the body sleeping within that capsule… would one day awaken again, carrying answers this world had never been ready to face.
***