The air was still thick with an invisible echo.
Even though the Man Without a Shadow was no longer standing before them, his presence clung to the atmosphere like a lingering stain. The leaves in the clearing where they had fought began to rustle again with the wind, as if trying to forget what had just happened.
But Ryouhei couldn't forget.
He stood motionless. The sweat, now dry on his face, traced lines down a complexion paler than usual. His eyes were fixed on a point that no longer existed—a silhouette only he seemed to still see. At his side, Sera was breathing heavily, her robe torn and her hands still trembling from the magical exertion. There was extinguished fire in her gaze, like embers refusing to die.
"Ryouhei…" she said softly, trying to reach him with words.
He didn't answer.
Because inside his mind, something else was speaking. Or maybe… staying silent.
That vision.
That stolen moment from the fabric of anomalies, where he had witnessed the past of the Man Without a Shadow—not as a monster, but as a broken man. A devastated human being, dragged down by the very system he now sought to manipulate. It was a distorted reflection, a mirror that returned his own image. A possible future. A curse with his name on it.
Sera glanced at him from the corner of her eye. She said nothing else. She simply sat nearby, close enough to keep him company… but far enough not to intrude. She had learned how to read Ryouhei's silences, even when he couldn't.
He brought a hand to his face. Not to hide his expression. But to check if he was still himself.
The scene from the battle kept playing in his thoughts like it was part of his ability, even though he hadn't used the Eclipse of Three Moons. It was different. It wasn't a future vision.
It was a warning.
He didn't know if the system had shown it to him. If the anomaly had allowed it. Or if it was simply… another crack. A leak between lines.
But what he had seen—that echo of lost humanity, that desperation that might once have been love, guilt, or the desire for redemption—weighed more heavily than any physical wound.
Because he had understood.
He had felt empathy.
And that, in his world, was dangerously unacceptable.
"Do you think…" Sera said, without looking at him, "he was ever like you?"
Ryouhei didn't respond immediately. But his silence was different. As if a "yes" was contained in the subtle twitch of his eyelids.
At last, he spoke.
"I don't know. But I think if I keep going down this path…" He paused, and his voice cracked slightly. "…I might end up becoming him."
Sera stood up slowly. She walked toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't a command. Nor comfort. It was an anchor.
"Then let's decide together how far we're willing to fall."
He looked at her—for the first time since the battle had ended.
And in his eyes, there was fear.
But not for what was coming.
For what had already started to change.
And deep within, the system registered another anomalous emotional deviation.