The moment Hope closed his eyes, sleep took him. But it was not the peaceful, dreamless rest he wished for.
No.
The nightmare came.
It always did.
A Hooded Figure in the Void
Darkness stretched endlessly around him. A vast, empty void—silent, suffocating, endless.
Then, in the distance, a figure appeared.
Shrouded in a tattered hood, its form barely distinguishable against the void.
Hope felt something cold crawl up his spine.
He called out.
"Hey!"
No response.
He took a step forward.
"Who are you?"
Still, nothing.
But as he moved closer, the figure shifted.
And then—
It turned.
A Reflection… Twisted
Hope froze.
His breath caught in his throat.
The hood fell away, revealing a face.
His face.
But wrong.
A perfect replica of himself… yet twisted beyond recognition.
The features were the same—his sharp eyes, the slight scar on his cheek, the mess of dark hair.
But the expression was not his own.
There was no curiosity, no wariness, no trace of the guarded survivor he knew himself to be.
Instead, there was malice.
Hunger.
A cruel smile stretched across the doppelgänger's lips, sharp and unnatural. His eyes, though identical to Hope's, were darker—deep pits of void-like blackness, flickering with something ancient.
And then—
Hope began falling.
Falling into a Graveyard of Corpses
It started slow.
Like drifting through water.
Then—
Faster.
The void swallowed him, pulling him down at an accelerating speed.
The wind howled past his ears. His heart pounded in his chest.
Then—
Impact.
He landed hard.
Pain shot through his limbs, but it was the least of his concerns.
Because beneath him—
Was a corpse.
And not just one.
Thousands.
A vast, endless sea of bodies stretched in every direction, twisted in grotesque, broken positions.
The stench of death clung to the air, thick and suffocating.
Their faces—
Some he recognized.
People from the streets. Fellow contestants. Men, women, children.
All dead.
All rotting.
And at the center of it all—
Himself.
A voice erupted from the darkness.
It wasn't just any voice.
It was his.
"You can never escape me."
Hope whipped around, eyes darting to the source.
His twisted reflection stood atop the pile of corpses, staring down at him with an expression of pure amusement.
"You're doomed, a failure… a pathetic little brat."
The words rippled through the void, echoing in the silence.
Hope's throat tightened. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay calm.
This was just a dream.
It had to be.
The doppelgänger laughed—a low, bone-chilling sound that sent a tremor down Hope's spine.
Then—
"Who even names themselves Hopeless?"
The words slithered through the darkness like a venomous snake.
Hope flinched.
The laughter grew louder.
It wasn't just his voice anymore.
It was thousands of voices, all blending together in a distorted chorus.
Mocking him.
Tearing at his mind.
Drowning him.
The corpses beneath him shifted, as if reaching for him.
Grabbing.
Dragging him down.
The doppelgänger took a step closer, the cruel smile widening.
And then—
Darkness swallowed everything.
Hope gasped, his body jerking violently—
And he woke up.