The wind didn't blow, yet the leaves fell. Not from gravity, but from something deeper, something irreparable: the sense that the world itself was holding its breath.
Ryouhei walked in silence, Sera at his side. There were no words to fill the space between them—not because they didn't exist, but because they were too heavy. He had sealed his emotions again after the confrontation with the Shadowless Man, as if pain could be nullified through sheer will. As if he hadn't seen everything—that echo of himself in ruins.
But the air was dense. The cracks in the world were no longer just visible; they were tangible, as if every step triggered a faint, imperceptible creak that only the gods of the abyss could hear.
"You don't have to carry it all," Sera finally said.
Ryouhei didn't reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the fractured horizon, on that nameless tower rising between the forest and the void. According to the journal, something that should never have been named was sealed there.
"You saw it too?" she asked, not looking at him.
He nodded. The anomaly that had shown them the Shadowless Man's past hadn't been conjured by magic or system—it was like looking through a shattered mirror: what lay on the other side wasn't an enemy, but a broken reflection. Something that could happen to anyone.
"I can't stop," Ryouhei said. His voice sounded distant, hollow.
Sera stopped and held his arm. Not forcefully—humanely.
"You're not him."
That simple sentence almost shattered his mask. But instead of breaking, it thickened.
"Not yet," he whispered.
A pause. Long. Deep. Then, they walked again.
They reached a place where roots burst from the ground like exposed nerves. The air was colder there, and the sky seemed to have forgotten how to change tone. In the middle of that unreal space, the system emitted a dry click, as if something had updated itself without permission.
[TEMPORAL COHERENCE ERROR DETECTED]
"Another fracture..." Sera muttered.
"No. Something... was unleashed," Ryouhei replied.
In the center of the clearing, a figure stood. Not the Shadowless Man. Not yet. But something he had left behind: a child, identical to him, repeating a single phrase in a broken voice:
"It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault..."
The past refused to stay buried.
Ryouhei stepped forward, fingers trembling.
"What would you do if you knew you couldn't beat him?" Sera asked.
"I don't know," he answered. "But this time, I won't run."
The sky groaned.
And then, the enemy's echo returned, breathing through the wind.