'I... lost.'
The thought echoed in Aziz's mind like a muffled thunderclap—impossible to ignore. Still lying on the floor of the training arena, he blinked slowly, not fully understanding how he'd ended up in that situation.
For as long as he could remember—and even in fragments of his previous life—he had won everything he competed in. Not out of vanity. Not out of arrogance. But as a simple fact. He had always been the best. Period.
Even if victory, for him, often tasted like nothing.
But now… there he was. His body pressed against the ground, and the curved, lethal blade of Sofia's scythe resting against his neck. Cold. Sharp. Final.
He couldn't move. Not out of fear—but pure existential disarray. As if something inside him had cracked, and the emptiness that had always dwelled in his chest now seeped through the edges.
Eyes fixed on the ceiling of the training dome, he remained there, motionless. To anyone watching, he was just a tired boy. But anyone daring to look closely into the silvery-blue gleam of his eyes would see something deeper.
A flicker held back.
Almost imperceptible.
The silent promise of something on the verge of awakening.
"Aziz… are you okay?" — Sofia asked, panting but alert. Her voice cut through the silence like a gentle breeze.
He blinked, slowly returning to reality.
"Yes… I'm fine. Just surprised." He smiled, rising calmly, while Sofia withdrew the scythe from his neck.
"You were amazing. Really… I didn't even get a chance to react, hahaha," he said, trying to sound light, though a part of his soul was boiling.
Sofia narrowed her eyes, still watching him. Something about his behavior was off. Not sadness, nor frustration. It was… fierce introspection, like a silent storm forming inside him. But she didn't press. She chose to respect his silence.
Then, the sound of clapping echoed across the arena.
*Clap. Clap. Clap.*
"What a beautiful duel you gave us," said Isis, appearing with the other women. "It was worthy of exceptional youths."
Astrid approached soon after. Her steps were soft, but her gaze was filled with pride. When she reached her son, she embraced him warmly.
"You fought well, my dear," she whispered close to his ear. "And there's no shame in losing. Don't let it bring you down, okay?"
Aziz didn't answer right away. He simply returned the hug and closed his eyes for a moment.
Stella walked over to Sofia and pulled her into a tight hug, planting a loving kiss on the top of her head. The young fox blushed but didn't resist the gesture. The warmth of maternal affection softened her racing heart.
"You were wonderful, my little warrior," said Stella, with genuine pride.
Then she turned to Aziz.
"And you too. A magnificent duel. Brave, precise, intense. I'm truly impressed."
"Thank you, Lady Stella," he replied politely, though something new flickered in his gaze.
"You were both spectacular," Sylvia added, smiling sweetly. "It was an honor to watch."
Soon after, the adults led the young ones to their rooms. A relaxing bath awaited them after training. Each headed to their private quarters, preparing for dinner.
The meal was light. Soft conversation, restrained laughter. For a moment, it felt as though the world had stopped.
That night... seemed designed to remind Aziz that there is beauty in the quiet pauses of the journey.
After dinner, they went to their rooms.
But that night… something was different.
---
The room was silent. More than usual.
Aziz was asleep—or believed he was.
But something was wrong. There was no dream. No trace of the dreamworld.
In the middle of the night, he suddenly woke.
No reason.
No pain.
No sound.
He simply… woke.
The strangest part? The curtains were open. A subtle detail, but unusual. Isis never forgot them.
A mistake? Or a calling from fate?
Driven by an impulse he didn't understand, he walked toward the window.
Outside, the starry sky stretched like an endless tapestry. But one star… one single star stood out.
It seemed to be calling him.
He fixed his gaze on that solitary light.
And the more he looked… the brighter it shone.
The more real it became.
The more inevitable.
He didn't know how long he stood there. A minute? An hour?
He only realized something was wrong when, at last, his eyes blinked.
And when they opened...
The world was gone.
---
He was in a completely dark place.
An absolute void.
No floor. No walls. No sound.
The threshold of nothing.
His heart pounded.
An irrational fear gripped him.
Not even in his first life had he ever felt something like this.
"W-what is this place? How did I end up here?" — he murmured.
His voice came out weak. Nearly erased.
He tried to touch his own chest, as if to calm his frantic heartbeat.
But nothing responded.
His body… wouldn't obey.
The anxiety grew. Exploded.
Then came the sound.
A whisper.
Melodic.
Distant.
And… drawing closer.
He tried to turn, to search for its source. In vain.
The whisper intensified.
And with it… footsteps.
Not physical sounds, but mental ones. As if space itself bent with each approach.
Aziz felt small. Fragile.
Trapped.
Prey waiting for the end.
"D-damn it… I can't die here. Not now… not like this."
He wanted to scream. But even that was impossible.
When the pressure reached its peak—everything stopped.
Silence. Almost sweet.
And then… a voice emerged.
"Shhhh… stay calm. Nothing's going to happen to you… at least not yet."
The voice was feminine. Melodic.
Incredibly familiar—and yet unknown.
He had never heard it before, but his body reacted as if it recognized every syllable.
Suddenly, arms wrapped around him.
A firm, protective embrace.
And then, two soft volumes pressed against the top of his head.
Comforting.
Almost indecent.
Profoundly… intimate.
"My love… we don't have much time. So listen carefully," the voice said, now more serious.
"You need to get stronger. Much stronger. Quickly. Time is running out."
Aziz wanted to ask what she meant by that, but his mouth remained sealed.
"I'll show you why. But please… don't be afraid."
And then… came the horror.
---
The void cracked.
Crimson fissures spread through the darkness, like cracks in a black mirror.
Scarlet tentacles burst from the rifts.
Screams rang out—in ancient, unrecognizable tongues—like a chorus of pain and agony.
The air grew thick.
Heavy with the scent of iron… and rotting flesh.
And then...
It appeared.
A colossal creature, made of living shadow, loomed before him.
Its body pulsed like blackened flesh—too alive to be dead, too dead to be alive.
Hundreds of eyes spread across its form, each one bleeding light in profane tones, as if every ray were a blasphemy.
They didn't just see.
They understood.
Each eye gleamed with its own consciousness—and all of them, at once, stared at Aziz.
Not as an enemy.
But as a worm who dared lift his gaze to the abyss.
Some were green, thin and vibrant, like pulsing blades.
Others, red and dilated, stared straight into his soul.
And at the top… two flaming eyes, burning with the weight of eternal judgment.
The creature opened its mouth—or what resembled one.
A rift of darkness that devoured light, sound, time.
It didn't just see him.
It understood him.
Not as an enemy.
But as a predator looks at an ant before crushing it...
...out of pure malice.
Aziz tried to run.
To scream.
To call for help.
Nothing worked.
"I'm going to die here."
"And I won't even know why."
The creature advanced.
The rift opened wider.
Wider.
Wider.
And then…
Darkness.