What’s the point? Why bother with any of this?
Because I decided to, that’s reason enough. Besides, meaning isn’t always handed to us; we build it with every choice we make.
Their gratitude means nothing.
I never asked for it in the first place.
They’ll only betray you anyway.
Maybe. Maybe not. I just have to be careful who to trust.
You’re alone. Always have been.
Then why do I still remember my mother’s voice telling stories to help me sleep? Why does the memory of my father’s hand on my shoulder still warm this phantom body?
This power is wasted on kindness.
No. It’s wasted when it’s not used for something that matters.
Take what you want. Crush those who defy you.
That’s what the ’monsters’ do. And I’ve seen what they become. I won’t follow their footsteps into ruin.
Justice is a lie. Mercy is weakness.
Mercy is what separates us from beasts. It’s not weakness, it’s a restraint. The weakness would be giving in to you.
The Shroud did. My family did. My friends did. If even one soul chooses to care... that’s enough to keep going.
You aren’t strong enough.
The thoughts kept coming, but I shut them out like slamming a door. But the more I focused on them, the more the voices grew, becoming livelier, more sinister, pressing in from all sides.
Realizing my resistance only seemed to feed them, I shifted tactics, attempting to completely ignore them, to erect mental walls against the encroaching tide.
Yet, I was at the very heart of the corruption, steeped in its essence. My thoughts, my convictions, slowly, imperceptibly, began to bend.
Everyone thinks I’m dead now.
Heck, I’m just a meat waiting to rot - why bother with any of this?
Why don’t I just... let go?
Why keep pretending to be nice?
All that pain for nothing. All that training wasted.
I should - no, I WILL become stronger the easy way.
I... I just need to...
Embrace the darkness...
A chilling stillness descended, even deeper than the abyss itself, as the insidious whispers reached their crescendo within my mind.
But even as the corrupted thought coiled around my essence, a strange counter-instinct flared.
But how should I embrace it? I thought seriously, my phantom arm slowly lifting, a strange, almost curious gesture of acceptance. I closed my eyes in case it was shy.
I extended my arms wide as if to envelop the unseen darkness, to pull it close, and become one with it.
Then, a jarring discord sliced through the oppressive silence, through the overwhelming roar of corrupted thoughts.
A sound too light, too gentle, too enchanting to belong in this place.
My phantom eyes snapped open, tearing through the impenetrable blackness, staring far into the distance.
And there, against the absolute nothing, a figure.
Dressed in deepest black, distinct despite the void, it was already turning away, its form somehow visible where nothing else was.
As if a switch had been flicked, the torrential whispers vanished. The pressure on my mind evaporated, leaving behind a sudden, chilling clarity.
Have I already fallen? I thought, suspicion instantly coating my senses. Is this an illusion too? Another trick from the Lament Shroud, a final, elaborate deception designed to break me completely?
But the chuckle... the unique, gentle clarity that followed... There was a chance. A desperate, impossible chance that this was the very fragment of the original consciousness, the kind of creature that had sacrificed itself for one last act of benevolence.
With nothing left to lose, no other path visible in this endless night, I made my choice. I began to follow the retreating silhouette.
Step by step, into the unknown.
I kept my gaze fixed on the figure ahead, quietly observing, trying to discern if this was truly the manifestation of the original, benevolent self.
They looked human, or at least, presented as such, but it was incredibly difficult to tell; the very darkness of this place seemed to cling to them, protecting their form, blurring the details.
Having no clear answer, I kept walking, my phantom feet making no sound on the intangible ground. Surprisingly, I found a strange sense of peace settling over me.
The quiet, the rhythmic motion, the simple act of following, it felt nice, even familiar.
Had I done this before?
A ripple of déjà vu brushed against my mind, fleeting and indistinct.
Could it be I’d walked a similar path, pursued a similar enigma, in other possible timelines? Or was it just a fleeting feeling, a trick of this strange, timeless space?
Shaking my head, I forced the thought away and looked forward again, my gaze sharpening - only to find the figure gone.
I looked around, spinning slowly in the endless expanse, then walked toward the spot where they’d been standing just moments before. My phantom hand reached out, expecting to grasp at nothing, but then I noticed something else entirely.
A small light, no bigger than a sphere held in one’s palm, hovered in the air. It pulsed softly, a single beacon in the all-consuming blackness.
I quickly picked up my pace, my steps silent but urgent, drawn towards the hovering object, or perhaps, the entity.
Is this the last fragment?
My heart, or what felt like my heart, gave a jolt.
My hand reached out, slowly enclosing the light ball.
It felt cold and strange to the touch, yet soothing like pressing a plushie of packed snow to one’s chest, where it shouldn’t bring warmth but somehow does.
{KILL-! KILL-! KILL ME-!}
W-what is h-happening?!
{STOP-! S-STOP IT-! IT’S ENOUGH-! I’VE SEEN ENOUGH-!}
{KILL ME-! LET ME DIE, PLEASE-!}
The world shattered into pain.
A tidal wave of agony slammed into my consciousness, my phantom body convulsing as if being unraveled thread by thread.
The lightball in my grip pulsed erratically, black veins writhing against white radiance, the darkness losing ground with each violent contraction.