Ashen took a slow step forward.
And that's when he saw him.
A lone figure sat amidst the carnage, motionless, like the last survivor of an ancient war.
His armor was battered, more ruin than metal, marred by dents and dried gore.
His tattered cloak barely clung to his shoulders, reduced to little more than strips of fabric swaying in the unseen breeze.
A spear rested across his shoulders, its tip still gleaming faintly beneath layers of crimson.
He exhaled, breath fogging in the cold air, and surveyed the wasteland with hollow, empty eyes.
The moment Ashen laid eyes on him, he understood.
This battlefield, this graveyard, wasn't his own creation.
It was his.
Just as Ashen's subconscious always placed him in the training grounds, a place that he recently became familiar with, this was the world this man's mind knew best—the most familiar place to him.
And Ashen knew who he was.
He knew what he represented.
He knew why he was here.
That man was him, after all.
Another self, conjured from necessity, born in the moment his past life's memories threatened to consume him, to crush his ego and leave nothing behind but a shattered mind.
Sealing those memories had been the only choice.
And he was the result of that choice.
His counterpart remained silent, letting Ashen process it all before finally lifting his head.
Those eyes… devoid, unreadable, wrong… met his own.
Anyone else would flinch under that gaze.
Maybe even run as far away as possible.
But Ashen didn't.
Because how could he fear himself?
The other him exhaled once more, voice barely more than a whisper against the silence.
"Well," he muttered, "you're finally here."
Ashen froze for an instant before his brain kicked into overdrive.
This man… this other him, held memories that had somehow been sealed away. That much was obvious. And given the description of his Recall skill, it wasn't a stretch to assume that this version of himself had knowledge of the future.
Or at least a version of it.
If the way he had manhandled those monsters when Ashen let him take over in the forest wasn't enough proof, then the sheer devastation of this dreamscape certainly was.
'Great. Now my life has a regression tag slapped onto it. As if "fantasy" wasn't already enough.'
But Ashen was nothing if not adaptable. He was learning to roll with whatever reality decided to throw at him.
One sarcastic joke later, and the shock had already faded, replaced by the usual process of finding ways to exploit this situation.
Should he ask about the future? Maybe get some hints on how to heal his circuits?
Hell, this guy was his future self… or something close to it. That meant he had to be crazy strong, right?
Wouldn't hurt to squeeze out a few overpowered moves before he disappeared into the void or whatever.
Dozens of plans formed in his head, but one question gnawed at him above all else.
When, and more importantly, how, had he sealed his own memories?
Lifting his gaze, he found his counterpart watching him patiently, as if waiting for him to finish sorting through his thoughts.
"...Are you done?" the older man finally asked. "It's amusing seeing just how much of an overthinker I was at this stage."
Ashen ignored the remark and went straight to the point.
"...Just how?"
His counterpart's eyes didn't flicker with confusion or ask what he meant. He understood the question immediately.
"How did you seal your memories and manifest them in this form?"
Ashen gave a barely perceptible nod.
"Well, you didn't," his other self said bluntly. "Miratheris did."
Ashen frowned. "Who the hell is Miratheris? First, it was mentioned in my skill, and now this…"
The man leaned back slightly, as if debating how much to say. Then, he answered, "Miratheris is our planet."
Ashen blinked.
"...What?"
"She's the planet," the man repeated, voice flat. "Her body is quite literally the entire world we live on. Though, she can manifest in humanoid form. That's the representation of her soul."
Ashen searched his counterpart's expression for any hint of a joke, but as always, his face remained unreadable… lifeless, almost.
"…Right. Of course. Why wouldn't the planet have a humanoid form?" He let out a dry chuckle before deadpanning, "You realize how insane that sounds, right?"
His counterpart didn't react. Instead, he added something far more troubling.
"And our current situation? The sealed memories, the dreamscape, me? All of this is the result of a wish. Your future self's wish."
Ashen parted his lips to ask the obvious question: What wish? but his counterpart cut him off before he could even breathe it out.
"Knowing more won't help you right now," the man stated firmly. "So don't bother asking."
Ashen shut his mouth, scowling.
A weary sigh escaped the man, and he shot his younger version a look that teetered between irritation and disbelief.
"...You're on the verge of death, and the thing occupying your mind is some cosmic soul-goddess-planet-whatever that you'll probably never meet in this life?" He huffed. "How big are your balls, anyway?"
Ashen paused.
'Am I about to die?'
Why? And when?
His thoughts ground to a halt. No point in panicking before getting the full picture. He needed clarification first.
"…Wait. You're not talking about my injuries, right? They said I'd be healed in a week—tops."
His older self gave him a quizzical look, as if he had just asked whether water was wet.
"That? That's just a scratch."
Ashen had half a mind to comment on how this was considered a scratch, considering he'd spent the past day feeling like death warmed over, but he had bigger concerns right now. His life was supposedly on the line.
"Then… is it the one who set the trap for us?" He narrowed his eyes. "Are they scheming something right now?"
Old Ashen shook his head. "You could deal with that on your own. That's not even considered a threat."
Ashen frowned. 'Then what the hell is?'
His older self didn't let him keep guessing. "No need to wrack your brain. I'll tell you now." He leaned forward slightly. "It's that—the Recall skill. The same one that saved your life? It's also your death flag."
Ashen blinked.
"…Huh?"