Li Zhen's eyes snapped open, the cold air of the night biting at his skin. For a moment, he could not tell where he was. The landscape around him was unfamiliar, a barren wasteland of jagged rocks and twisted, gnarled trees that reached toward the sky like skeletal fingers. There was no moon to light his way, only the suffocating darkness, a silence broken only by the echo of his own breath.
He stood, his sword at his side, the familiar weight of it offering some comfort. It was not just a weapon—it had become a part of him, his anchor in this fragmented existence. Yet, in the midst of this desolate place, even the sword seemed distant, cold, as though it, too, was unsure of its purpose here.
His heart pounded in his chest, a steady rhythm that matched the unease swelling within him. He couldn't remember how he had arrived at this place. The memories of his journey had blurred into one long, drawn-out haze. Every step forward seemed to lead him further into an abyss, but what choice did he have? There was no turning back.
But as he took a step forward, a voice broke the silence—a soft, mocking whisper, as though it came from the very air around him.
"Running again, are we, Li Zhen?"
His heart froze.
The voice was familiar, but distorted, tainted by something dark. He spun around, his grip tightening around the sword's hilt. There, standing just beyond the reach of the weak light, was a figure—one that looked eerily like him.
At first, it seemed almost a dream. But then, the figure stepped closer, and Li Zhen could see the details more clearly. The face was his own, yet it was twisted with a deep, pained expression. The eyes were hollow, vacant, yet filled with a consuming weight of sorrow. It wore the same attire Li Zhen had worn in his past, the worn leather armor, the faded red sash. But there was a palpable aura around this version of himself—an aura of guilt, of deep regret.
"Do you remember?" the figure asked, its voice a low rasp, but the words cut through Li Zhen like a blade. "Do you remember all those promises you made? The lives you ruined, the ones you failed to protect?"
Li Zhen felt his chest tighten, the breath caught in his throat. He took a step back, trying to find his words, but the figure continued, each sentence a punch to his gut.
"You were supposed to be a savior, weren't you? The one who would change everything. The one who would rise above the rest and lead us to something better. And yet, you failed. You couldn't even save her. Do you remember?"
Li Zhen's vision blurred, the ground beneath him feeling unstable, as if it might collapse at any moment. He had tried so hard to bury these memories, to leave them behind in the shadows. But now they rushed forward, unstoppable.
Her.
He remembered her face, her smile, the way she had trusted him. But in the end, he had been powerless. He had failed her, and so many others. That was the truth that gnawed at his soul, the weight that hung over him like a dark cloud.
"You're nothing," the figure hissed, stepping forward, its shadow stretching out like a noose. "A broken man, hollowed out by your own mistakes. Do you even know why you're still here? Is it because you think you can make it right? That you can fix what you destroyed?"
Li Zhen's hand trembled on the hilt of his sword. The weight of the figure's words threatened to crush him. He could feel the guilt, the shame, pressing down on him, suffocating him.
Is this what I am? He thought. A man who has nothing left but failure?
The figure laughed, a hollow, cruel sound. "You can't outrun your past, Li Zhen. You can't hide from the truth. You can't pretend that all of this," it gestured toward the wasteland around them, "isn't a consequence of your choices. You failed, and now you're nothing more than a ghost, a shadow of what you could have been."
Li Zhen's knees threatened to buckle. He wanted to flee, to turn away, to escape the unbearable weight of these accusations. But the figure stepped closer, its presence suffocating, overwhelming.
The guilt surged again, like a tidal wave crashing over him. He had made so many promises, to so many people. He had vowed to protect them, to change the world for the better. But in the end, he had failed.
"Do you even know why you were resurrected?" the figure whispered, its voice now dripping with venom. "You think it was for a reason, that there's some great purpose waiting for you. But the truth is, you're just a reminder of all the lives you've ruined. You're not a savior. You're a burden."
Li Zhen clenched his fists, his sword shaking in his grip. He could feel the sting of his past, the weight of his mistakes, and for a moment, he wondered if there was any way to escape it.
But as he stood there, overwhelmed by the darkness, a voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts—a voice deep within him, familiar, yet distant.
"You are not defined by your past mistakes. You are defined by what you choose now."
It was the sword, or perhaps the part of his soul it had come to represent. Its voice was calm, steady, grounding him when everything else seemed to fall apart.
The figure sneered at the sword, a mocking laugh escaping its lips. "You think that weapon will save you? You think it can erase the guilt, the failure? You're still the same man who let her die. The same man who chose power over the lives of others."
Li Zhen's eyes widened at the mention of her, but he forced himself to hold his ground. He couldn't let this shadow of himself consume him. He couldn't let it pull him back into the abyss.
"I am not you," he said, his voice hoarse but steady. "I am not the man who failed. I am not the man who let you down."
The figure paused, its cruel expression faltering for a moment. "You think you can just run from who you are? From what you've done?"
"No," Li Zhen said, his voice growing stronger. "But I can learn from it. I can choose to move forward, not as the man I was, but as the man I choose to be. And I will face whatever comes, whatever demons I have to confront."
For the first time, the figure seemed uncertain. It took a step back, the shadow receding slightly. "You think it's that simple?"
"It's not simple," Li Zhen replied, gripping his sword tightly. "But it's the only way forward. I will face the truth, and I will choose to rise from it. This resurrection—my life—it's not a curse. It's a chance."
The figure's expression twisted again, but this time, there was something almost...fragile about it. With one last look, it vanished into the darkness, leaving Li Zhen alone in the wasteland.
He stood there for a long time, the cold wind biting at his skin, the weight of the past heavy upon him. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he could breathe. He could feel something other than the crushing guilt that had defined him for so long.
I choose to move forward, he thought. I choose to live.
And with that, he turned his back on the darkness, walking into the uncertain future that awaited him.