A cold wind howled through the barren land, sweeping across cracked earth and the rusted remnants of a forgotten war. Jagged mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks shrouded in a swirling crimson sky.
Above, a fractured moon cast its eerie glow over the wasteland, its pale light stretching long, distorted shadows across the ruins. At the heart of this desolation, a lone castle stood, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens, its shattered roof allowing beams of moonlight to spill into the grand chamber.
A reptilian figure knelt on the cracked stone floor, trembling violently. Behind it, more of its kind cowered in silence, awaiting judgment.
From the shadows of the chamber, something massive stirred. Two enormous, glowing eyes emerged, their piercing gaze locked onto the groveling figure, who visibly shook.
"$@#@$#@$@#$$%$#&**@($&$^&*$&@#@#^$&@^#!@$#$."
("I... I apologize, my lord! I never thought he would manage to kill her!")
A deep growl rumbled through the chamber, vibrating the very walls.
The master's presence alone suffocated the air, pressing down like an invisible weight.
"$#@&@."
("Useless.")
"!&^!&&-"
("MY LORD, PLEA—")
The creature's voice was cut short as its body crumbled into dust. A wave of panic rippled through the remaining underlings, their hushed whimpers betraying their fear.
Another, stronger growl shook the hall, sending tremors through their bones.
"@#&$@#$$$$!!!##$#@@$&@#$"
("This failure is unacceptable. Pay with your lives.")
The glowing eyes flared brighter. The underlings flinched, backing away in terror.
Then—
"&^*&@#"
("Please, wait, my lord.")
A calm, calculating voice cut through the chamber. The master stilled, acknowledging the speaker from the shadows.
"@#$^&^@#^!@#^^$#@^$@$&@#^$@#&^$@&$^@$^**&!@#$&@#"
("While this failure is quite inconvenient… I see a brilliant opportunity here.")
"@#$*&"
("Elaborate.")
Another set of colossal eyes gleamed in the darkness. A silent message passed between the two.
Moments later, the master's lips curled into a wicked grin, revealing rows of glistening fangs.
*******************
*******************
Neon signs flickered along the streets, casting colorful reflections on various surfaces. The hum of passing cars blended with the occasional chatter of late-night commuters.
A distant train rumbled along its tracks, vanishing into the city's glow.
But within a quiet residential district, behind closed curtains—
Tick. Tick.
The world outside felt distant. A sluggish breath broke the heavy silence.
The digital clock on the desk glowed faintly: 19:57.
A cough, followed by a sharp inhale. Hyoudou Issei lay curled up in bed, shivering under his blankets. His chest felt heavy, his breaths coming out ragged and uneven.
A few hours had passed since Ophis vanished, and now he was hit with a fever.
His head pounded. His body ached all over.
The silence pressed in.
His house was never this quiet. Even at night, there was always some distant noise—his parents moving around downstairs, Izo's heavy footsteps, the faint hum of the fridge. But now? Nothing. Just the soft ticking of the clock.
For the first time, the silence bothered Issei.
His fingers clenched weakly at the blanket. Raynare. The supernatural. Izo. His parents. Ophis.
A shudder ran through him. Ophis.
That childlike girl—no, that being—could have killed him in an instant. She stopped time itself like it was nothing. And she helped him.
Why? What did she see in him? What did she do to his body?
Issei turned over inside the blanket.
Izo had a Sacred Gear. He was part of this supernatural world. How long has this been going on?
And his family... They must have known too. It would be weirder if they didn't.
Old memories resurfaced like ghosts in the dark.
Issei unknowingly clenched his jaw.
Is that why they did that to me? Because I was a failure?
He was born with a Sacred Gear, but GGs, it happened to be a dead, fake, sleeping one.
As a kid, he was unstoppable. Even in middle school. And now?
Now he was here. Lying in bed, shaking under his blankets like some weak, helpless kid.
The weight of his uselessness sank into him.
Then—
Creak.
A sound.
A faint creak from downstairs.
Issei's breath caught.
He strained his ears, his fevered mind sharpening in an instant. Was someone home? No—he was alone.
He held his breath.
Silence.
…Had he imagined it?
His head throbbed, thoughts unraveling. His fever was messing with him. Just the house settling. Or maybe the wind outside.
His grip on the blanket tightened. The heat inside his palm reminded him of the light spear he had held hours ago.
He shut his eyes, but all he saw was her face. Raynare's face. The shock in her eyes before the spear pierced her chest. The way her body twitched before going still. The blood coating his hands.
He had killed someone.
Even now, his stomach didn't twist with regret. It wasn't guilt. It was… something worse.
Dread.
Not because he had killed her.
He felt mighty after killing her. like he had achieved something grand with his talents. But facing Ophis—a being that could stop time right after that…
Just—just what could I do against someone like that?
And there were others. Stronger than him. Maybe even stronger than her.
And they would come for him.
His heart pounded.
I need to get stronger.
If someone like Raynare could nearly kill him, what about Izo? Ophis said he had a Longinus. A top-tier Sacred Gear.
Just how strong was a top-tier one?
What about the real monsters out there?
What if next time, there was no one to save him?
A cold sweat ran down his temple.
I can't stay like this.
His body burned. His mind felt like a mess. He needed something—anything—to ground him.
Then—
Ding!
His phone vibrated on his desk.
Issei exhaled, his body sagging. A distraction. Good.
He reached for it, wincing as his sore muscles protested. The screen lit up.
Kevin Kennecky: Bro, you up for a game?
For the first time all night, his lips twitched into something close to a smile.
Yeah. He could use something normal right now.
Dragging himself out of bed, he wobbled toward his desk. The familiar glow of the monitor eased some of the pressure in his head. He logged in.
Then—
His screen flashed red.
Your account has been suspended due to suspicion of unethical activity. Please check your email for further details.
Issei's mind blanked.
He stared at the message, his fevered brain struggling to process it.
His account. His escape. The only thing still his in this world.
Gone.
A slow, bitter laugh crawled up his throat.
Of course. Of fucking course.
He let his head fall against the desk, closing his eyes.
And just like that—the worst day of his life came to a close.
*********************
*********************
Birds chirped outside the Hyoudou residence. The Hyoudou family sat around the breakfast table. The morning news droned on in the background, covering a local incident about a 'phantom bleeding man' who had mysteriously vanished.
"A bizarre incident has left authorities puzzled since yesterday evening. Reports flooded in about a bloodied young man appearing in the middle of Kuoh Town before collapsing—only to vanish moments later."
"Despite multiple eyewitness accounts, security footage shows no sign of the individual. Investigators suspect a coordinated prank, as there is no evidence of the so-called 'Phantom Bleeding Man' ever being there."
As the news played, Gorou, Miki, and Izo ate quietly, their chopsticks moving in rhythm.
The fourth plate, however, sat untouched.
Gorou checked the time and clicked his tongue.
"He's still not up?"
Miki sighed, setting down her cup.
"I hope he didn't forget when school starts."
Izo didn't glance up, focused on his food. Breakfast was the same as always—miso soup, grilled fish, rice, pickled vegetables.
Then—
Step.
Issei trudged downstairs, looking half out of it. He pulled out his chair, sat down without a word, and started eating in a hurry.
Gorou lowered his newspaper just enough to look at him.
"What's with you?"
"I'm late," Issei muttered between bites, his voice hoarse.
For a brief moment, Izo noticed Issei glance his way—but he didn't give it a second thought.
In less than a minute, Issei pushed his chair back and stood up.
"Thanks for the food."
And with that, he left.
Miki exhaled through her nose and picked up her chopsticks again.
Gorou turned a page in his newspaper.
"Didn't even finish."
Izo glanced at the half-eaten plate before going back to his meal.
Miki finally spoke.
"Must've stayed up all night playing video games."
The family continued breakfast in silence.
**********************
**********************
Huff… Huff…
The world felt too loud.
The sun, the chatter, the cars—everything grated against my fevered mind.
Maybe I should've stayed home.
But home wasn't any better. The silence there had been suffocating. After learning about the shocking truth, it suddenly felt like I was living with strangers.
And more importantly...
My account got suspended.
A sharp pang of frustration coiled in my gut. Everything felt wrong. No matter how hard I tried to shake it, the lingering sense of unease wouldn't leave me.
I exhaled sharply and kept moving.
Just get to class. Get through the day.
Then—
A flicker at the edge of my senses.
A jolt shot through my brain—
My body twisted on instinct, hand snapping out—
Grab.
"OW! OW! OW!"
Matsuda yelped, squirming in my grip.
"Shit, dude! How the hell did you see me coming?!"
I blinked, my vision swimming for a second. My grip loosened.
I let go abruptly, exhaling as I forced myself forward without a word.
"Yo, Issei, you good?" Motohama called from behind.
"…Yeah."
Matsuda, however, grabbed my arm.
"The hell? Dude, you're burning up! You have a fever?"
I was already too busy glancing over my shoulder.
Checking if anyone else happened to be following me.
****************
****************
After waving away Motohama and Matsuda's concerns, I collapsed onto my desk, my head resting against my arm.
My whole body felt heavy, weighed down by fever and exhaustion. The world blurred at the edges, voices blending into an indistinct hum.
But one thing was still clear—glares.
They came from all over the room, but two in particular felt especially sharp, like daggers against my skin.
I shifted slightly, forcing myself to glance up.
Two girls sat a few rows ahead, whispering among themselves. A pink-haired girl and a brunette. I'd seen them before—always near Rias, always part of her circle. I didn't know their names, but the way they looked at me told me enough.
It just had to be today… I'm already on edge.
I closed my eyes.
Just sleep. Don't react…
…
…
…
SLAM!
"Hyoudou Issei!"
The sharp voice jolted me awake. My head snapped up, and my vision swam.
Standing at the front of the classroom, arms crossed, was our teacher—a middle-aged man with graying hair and a permanent scowl.
"Sleeping in my class again, are we?"
I blinked, trying to focus. I must've dozed off for a moment.
"Sorry..."
My voice came out weak and hoarse.
The teacher's eyes narrowed.
"Since you have time to nap, why don't you answer this question?"
He tapped the board, challenging me. A sentence in Japanese, waiting to be translated into English.
Normally, it would've been easy. I was decent at English—mostly because I needed it to play untranslated games.
I squinted at the board, but the letters swam in my vision. My head throbbed.
Unfortunately, I was sick, and even thinking felt like a chore.
I shook my head, deciding not to attempt.
Snickers rose from around the room.
"He's totally lost."
"Figures."
Maybe it was because I was sick, but my irritation flared.
The teacher sighed, shaking his head.
"Sit up properly and stay awake, Hyoudou. Next time, you're staying after class."
I muttered another apology and forced myself upright.
By the time the bell rang for lunch, my fever had gotten worse.
***************
***************
Issei sat alone in the cafeteria. Motohama and Matsuda had been dragged off for a lecture after getting caught peeping at the kendo girls yesterday.
The weight in Issei's skull hadn't lessened. If anything, the hunger made it worse. He hadn't eaten since that half-finished breakfast. Last night's dinner? Didn't happen. Between his fever, his fight, and everything else, food hadn't even crossed his mind.
Now, with every bite he forced down, he could feel the stares drilling into him.
Rias Gremory was nowhere to be seen today—maybe she was busy.
Then—
A chair scraped against the floor as someone sat across from him.
Hiro Satoru.
The cafeteria fell into an eerie silence. Conversations cut short. The usual clatter of trays and silverware dulled.
Issei blinked slowly.
Of all people…
Hiro rested his chin between his arms, emerald-green eyes locked onto Issei. He didn't speak. Just stared.
Seconds passed. A full minute.
Tic. Toc. Tic.
The air felt heavier by the second.
Issei knew exactly what Hiro was doing—intimidation. Rias and him both knew Hiro wouldn't take rejection lightly. That he'd have to do something to assert his dominance.
A stunt like this—staring him down, trying to get in his head—was expected.
Issei just wished it wasn't happening today.
"…Hey."
His voice came out lower than expected.
"Stop staring."
Hiro's eyebrows twitched slightly. Then, a slow, amused smirk stretched across his face.
"Or what?"
His voice was mocking, taunting.
And just like that, the cafeteria's tension snapped.
From all sides, chairs scraped back. Issei didn't need to turn his head to know—he was surrounded.
Hiro took his time, standing up and walking around the table, dragging a chair close beside him.
Issei's fingers clenched under the table.
It was suffocating. His chest felt tight, his vision swimming at the edges.
I should've just left.
Before he could move, Hiro grabbed the back of his neck, fingers pressing lightly—but firmly—against his skin.
Issei's body froze.
His breath hitched. His heart slammed against his ribs. He felt—trapped.
Like yesterday.
Like when Raynare had him pinned, toying with him.
Like when Ophis stood over him, holding his life in the palm of her hand.
Like when he realized he was helpless.
A hot pulse ran down his spine. Something inside him curled, twisted—revolted.
"…Move."
His voice came out flat, controlled.
Issei sluggishly batted Hiro's hand away. But even that small motion felt slow like his body wasn't keeping up.
Hiro clicked his tongue slapped Issei's hand back down and grabbed his neck again.
"Look here, you little shit." His voice dropped lower, venomous. "I don't know how you know my teacher, but you better—"
"I SAID MOVE, DAMMIT!"
Issei lurched to his feet, his chair screeching against the floor as he shoved Hiro back.
Gasps rippled through the cafeteria.
Hiro caught himself, his smirk gone. His green eyes, once taunting and playful, were now ice cold.
Immediately, the third-years closed in.
"Whoa! Whoa! That wasn't very nice, was it?"
A towering third-year with broad shoulders and thick arms—Toru, one of Hiro's muscleheads—wrapped an arm around Issei's neck, pulling him in with a suffocating grip.
The guy reeked of cheap cologne and sweat.
"It's because of us that you don't get bullied by other schools around here, y'know?"
"Well, what do you expect from that guy's brother?"
Laughter erupted from Hiro's gang.
Issei's breath came fast and shallow. His head pounded, his fever boiling over—but he wasn't panicking—he was pissed.
His grip tightened around Toru's forearm. The heat roared in his skull, burning through his body like wildfire. His skin felt too tight, his pulse like a drum in his ears.
But more than that—
He could feel the red creeping in at the edges of his vision.
"Look at him, shivering like a puppy."
"Kekeke!"
Hiro took a step forward, and the others immediately stepped aside for him.
"You sure this is okay…?"
An orange-haired guy—Kenji, Hiro's right-hand man—murmured.
Hiro shrugged.
"It'll be fine."
He loomed over Issei, smiling as if he'd already won.
"Why's your face so red?" Hiro tilted his head. "You gonna cry on me now?"
More laughter.
Then—
Hiro suddenly jerked his head forward, a quick fake-out meant to make Issei flinch.
!!
A sharp pulse ran down Issei's spine.
For a split second, everything felt too clear.
His vision darkened at the edges, but the center—Hiro's smug face—was razor sharp.
The heat in his chest exploded.
Issei felt his own face contorting.
He staggered back, his instincts screaming at him to move—right into Toru's iron grip.
"Haha! He got sca—"
WHAM
A sharp, wet crack echoed through the cafeteria.
Hiro's smirk disappeared.
Toru staggered back, clutching his face as blood poured from his shattered nose, the force of Issei's elbow strike leaving him dazed.
A second later—
Issei pivoted—his leg already in motion.
A blur.
For just a fraction of a second—Hiro caught a glimpse of something.
A faint, unnatural glow in Issei's eyes.
Then—
WHAM
Hiro's world tilted. His feet left the ground as the impact on his head sent him crashing into a cafeteria table with a sickening thud.
Silence.
A single breath passed.
Then—
Chaos erupted.
******************
******************
Ssshhhhhhhhh
Water poured from the faucet, the steady stream echoing in the empty restroom.
Issei hunched over the sink, gripping the porcelain so tightly his knuckles turned white. His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. His body was still shaking, heat rolling off his skin like steam.
His reflection stared back at him, pale and wide-eyed. Maybe it was the light. Maybe it was just his fever messing with his head. But his usual brown irises—they looked red.
A drop of water slid down his temple.
"Shit…"
It wasn't a dream. He actually did that.
He actually knocked out Hiro Satoru.
His fingers curled over the sink. He lost control. He knew it.
Raynare… that had been different. She wasn't human. She tried to kill him. He had no choice.
But Hiro? Hiro was just a guy. A human guy.
Yeah, it was a bad situation—but that didn't explain what came after.
After knocking out Hiro, Issei kept going. Like a wild animal, he tore through Hiro's gang, one after another.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
No.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Both Rias Gremory and Issei had expected Hiro to react. Maybe some intimidation tactics, trash talk, or flexing his numbers. But nothing beyond that.
After all, with Izo around, Hiro had every reason to keep things from going too far.
And maybe… he would have.
But Issei was the one who escalated it first.
And now? Now Hiro had a deeper reason to come after him.
A dull pain throbbed behind his eyes.
Everything was falling apart.
He covered his face his hand.
People saw. Everyone saw.
Outside, the hallway buzzed with whispers. The news of the fight had already spread like wildfire.
What if they expel me?
The thought landed in his gut like a rock.
If he got expelled…
His parents would lose it.
His mother's disappointed sigh. His father's sharp glare.
Izo's usual indifference.
Just thinking about it made his head hurt.
Then—
Quick footsteps approached.
"Is he in here?"
A familiar voice.
The door swung open.
Matsuda and Motohama rushed inside, both out of breath.
"Issei—huff—what the hell, man?!" Matsuda practically yelled, gripping his knees as he caught his breath.
"Hiro's in the hospital! The principal's calling for you…"
Motohama looked pale.
"Dude… I think they might expel you."
The word expel made Issei's stomach drop.
His throat felt dry.
One might say they were exaggerating, but they weren't.
This happened before—last year.
A second-year finally snapped and challenged Hiro to a 1 vs 1 fight and lost—barely.
But since he threw the first punch… he was expelled.
The school was backed by Hiro's family. Corruption was inevitable.
Issei ran a hand down his face.
This was bad.
He took a slow breath.
With stiff movements, he pushed himself away from the sink.
Matsuda and Motohama exchanged uneasy glances but didn't say anything.
Issei stepped into the hallway—
And felt the weight of a hundred stares.
***************
***************
The walk felt like a death march.
The hallway buzzed with whispers. Hundreds of eyes followed him, but Issei kept his head down, his expression unreadable. Matsuda and Motohama trailed behind him in silence.
When they reached the large mahogany door, he knocked twice.
Knock. Knock.
"May I come in, sir?"
"Enter."
A deep, commanding voice.
Issei stepped inside.
It was his first time in the principal's office.
The room felt… curated. Every inch was designed to impress. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with thick, leather-bound tomes. Gleaming trophies and plaques stood proudly on display, but in between them were objects that felt off—a weathered skull, an ornate dagger encased in glass, a paperweight etched with strange, unreadable symbols.
The desk was sleek and modern, almost clinical in its organization. A gold nameplate rested at the edge: Principal Shirogane Kazuro.
An iPad sat propped on a stand, its screen dimmed. A polished fountain pen lay beside a neatly stacked pile of files.
And behind it all sat the principal.
Silver hair. Unnaturally sharp amber eyes. A pristine suit. He filed his nails with slow, deliberate strokes.
The entire back wall was a single, towering window, stretching from floor to ceiling, offering a clear view of the school grounds below. Students moved in clusters, laughing, chatting, and playing soccer in the courtyard.
Sunlight poured in, bathing the room in a golden glow.
Yet, despite the warmth outside, the air inside felt unnaturally cool.
"Take a seat, Hyoudou-kun," the principal said, acknowledging his presence.
Issei sat. The chair was too soft. Issei felt like he was being swallowed whole.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"No, thank you."
A brief pause.
Then, finally, the principal set his nail file down and looked up.
"Hyoudou Issei-kun, do you know why I called you here?"
"...Because I got into a fight."
The principal sighed, leaning back slightly.
"A fight?" His tone was light, almost amused. "Is that really what you call it?"
Issei remained silent.
Without another word, Shirogane picked up his iPad.
With a tap, the screen lit up, revealing a wide-angle shot of the cafeteria.
Issei stiffened.
The video played without sound.
Tables were overturned. Spilled trays littered the floor.
Students stood at a distance, whispering. Some had their hands over their mouths; others looked pale, frozen in shock.
Hiro's gang was sprawled across the room, groaning or too dazed to move. The camera caught Kenji being slammed face-first into a cafeteria table by a furious Hyoudou Issei, who then brought a metal tray down hard on his head.
Issei rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled sharply, feeling a strange unease as he watched himself move like that.
It reminded him of…
No. He pushed the thought away.
Shirogane exhaled through his nose.
"What you did today," he said, his tone unreadable, "was a direct violation of school policy."
A beat.
"You'll be suspended for three days for injuring students and damaging school property."
Issei blinked.
Three days? That's it?
The principal continued.
"Given that the other party clearly provoked the situation, I'm choosing to be lenient. Reflect on your actions—this isn't how you should use your talent. You have great potential. Please don't waste it. Also, I expect you to make amends with Hiro Satoru."
Something about this whole conversation felt off.
After all, it wasn't any student he beat up. It was Hiro Satoru.
By all accounts, the principal should have been furious. But instead, he was… offering leniency?
Shirogane set down the iPad.
"That brings us to another topic of importance."
Without another word, the principal stood.
He walked to the large floor-to-ceiling window, hands clasped behind his back, looking down at the school grounds.
Outside, students laughed, walked in groups, and played soccer near the courtyard. The golden afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm glow.
He watched them for a moment before speaking.
"As you might already know, Kuoh Academy is among the top in Japan academically," he began.
"We've maintained flawless records in national exams, college entrance success rates, and prestigious scholarships. One could say that the brightest minds in the country walk these halls."
A pause.
"But… when it comes to athletics…" He sighed. "We are… lacking."
Issei looked up, puzzled by the sudden turn in the conversation.
He gestured toward the papers on his desk.
"Our only notable achievements last year?"
He picked up a file and flipped through it.
"Katase and Murayama reached the top eight in the All Japan High School Kendo Championship..."
Setting it down, he picked up another.
"Hiro Satoru—champion of the Under-18 National Boxing Championship, sanctioned by the Japan Amateur Boxing Federation."
He turned slightly, glancing at Issei.
"…And that's it."
The principal leaned back, his expression unreadable.
"A school like ours prides itself on excellence, Hyoudou-kun. We dominate in academics, produce future leaders, and yet… in sports, we are barely a footnote."
His fingers tapped lightly on the desk before he continued.
"I understand you participated in tryouts for our soccer team, yes?"
Issei gave a slow nod.
"You showed great potential. But you disregarded instructions, and that led to your rejection."
He set the paper aside and studied Issei carefully as if weighing his next words.
"Tell me… have you ever trained in martial arts?"
Issei frowned slightly.
"I… yeah, at some point."
Shirogane's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Interesting." He glanced at the file again. "From what I see here, you have a natural talent for fighting. Your instincts are sharp—raw, but promising. With the right guidance, you could refine that into something truly exceptional."
Issei stiffened.
Something crawled up his spine.
He didn't like where this was going.
The principal leaned forward slightly, voice calm, deliberate.
"Hyoudou Issei… I want you to co-lead a new martial arts club—with Hiro Satoru—and represent our school in national tournaments."
Issei's stomach twisted.
His mind flickered to that moment.
His opponent gasping for air. The referee yelling. The guilt. The shame.
He had tried going down that path before…
"…No, I…" He started, but the words caught in his throat.
"The school will provide a proper instructor for you. You'll have the best training, the best resources." His voice was steady and persuasive. "And if you perform well, we can arrange a sports recommendation to Kuoh Academy's College—along with other benefits."
And just like that, everything clicked.
The light punishment. The leniency.
This wasn't just discipline.
It was a deal.
Shirogane folded his hands, his eyes unreadable.
"I'm offering you an opportunity, Hyoudou-kun. You can turn away… or you can make something of this. Something bigger."
A heavy silence stretched between them.
"So," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "What do you say?"
Slowly, Issei stood.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said quietly, "But… I've given up on martial arts."
For the first time, the principal's expression shifted.
Just a little.
Issei bowed slightly.
"I'll reflect on my behavior during my suspension. If there's nothing else, then…"
As he turned to leave—
"Hyoudou-kun."
Issei froze.
The principal's voice was calm.
"Just give my offer a bit more thought—during your suspension."
"...Understood."
And with that, he walked out.
***********
***********
The house was empty when Issei got home.
He let out a dry breath, tossed his bag onto the floor, and shut the curtains before sinking into his chair.
Somewhere along the way, his fever had faded. Yet, something still felt off.
DRUM. DRUM.
His fingers tapped against the desk, restless.
"I have given what you need."
Ophis' words echoed in his mind.
Ophis… Just what did you do to me…?
His throat felt dry. He pushed himself up and made his way toward the stairs, craving a drink of water.
Then—
A strange weight pressed against his chest.
The moment his foot touched the top step—his vision flickered.
The stairs stretched downward—endless, spiraling into an abyss.
His breath hitched. His legs wobbled.
What—
MISS.
His foot slipped.
Gravity yanked him forward.
Instinct kicked in—his arm shot out for the railing.
But before his fingers could touch it—
Darkness.
WARP
And suddenly—
He was standing at the bottom of the stairs.
…
His heart slammed against his ribs.
For a long moment, he just stood there.
Processing.
Then, finally—
"… Eh?"