"Hello --- ----, I don't know what you're saying right now, and I need you to understand that as I'm recording this, I am in great danger. So I must be quick—do you have any questions?"
The Yuel in front of him looked identical to himself, yet more like a silhouette. His voice came through like hundreds of layered whispers, echoing from all around—front, back, above, below—without a traceable source. It should've been clear that it came from the silhouette of the boy in front of him, yet the voices felt... omnipresent.
"You... I'm sure I never recorded anything like this before. Who are you?"
"Oh right, this is a recording, so I can't hear or answer your questions. Then, I'll just explain everything—"
"------------------------------------------------"
Yuel was sure he heard something... but it was distorted. He should've understood it. He could've. But... it was like something was missing, something forgotten. Still, he didn't even want to think about it.
Minutes passed in that void. A black, incomprehensible space filled with his own silhouette and maddening whispers in his voice. Then the whispers intensified. They became horrific. His ears rang as if they'd burst. It didn't stop. The whispers shattered him.
He remained there for minutes, hours—maybe even days—and began to lose his sanity. But before completely breaking, he used his newly awakened ability to leave himself one final message:
"How about facing danger? What's the worst that could happen?"
Then the whispers consumed him, and Yuel went mad. Another day ended.
...
Luo, as always, was in Yuel's home. Yuel had fallen asleep with his head resting on Luo and finally woke up. In the Inksworn Depths, daylight only came during certain hours—and this wasn't one of them. Outside was still cloaked in darkness.
Yuel yawned and grabbed his canteen. He drank quickly—he often woke up parched.
The last thing he remembered… something about that massive owl sentinel. He'd fought it—and maybe won? Then… something he saw when he turned around? Probably not—he didn't remember seeing anything. But he did remember the voice: "Luo, run! Don't ever come back!"
But what had he seen?
No—better not to ask. Better not to wonder. Why was he wondering anyway? It was a mistake. He'd be better off just… playing with Luo, maybe?
Except… he couldn't wake Luo up just for that. Let's see… were there any leftover fish from yesterday?
Oh! Two whole fish were left. How much had he caught yesterday to still have these?
That was good. It would be selfish to wake Luo just to play, but waking him up to cook the fish—then playing afterward—sounded better.
He nudged Luo gently. The beast opened his eyes and looked at the small boy. Yuel held up the fish. Luo let out a deep breath—and with a blast of pure white fire, cooked them—then closed his eyes again.
Guess Luo really needed sleep... he was already dozing off again.
"Alright, forget that plan. I'm eating the fish."
Yuel skewered the two fish and placed them over the fire. His eyes drifted to the name carved in the large stone—"Yuel." No one here ever called him by his name, but he had one. After all, he was the only human around. He pretended not to care and began cooking.
Maybe he should take a look around while the fish cooked?
...
Wait—what was that bone? It was huge. If he'd seen it outside, he definitely would've brought it home to make a spear. But he didn't remember ever bringing it.
It had to be from a bug dhune—probably a second-stage one!
That was rare. A long spear from a second-stage dhune—great find.
He lifted the bone, then noticed a hammer beneath it.
"Okay... maybe I could forget a bone. But a weapon I made myself?"
"Wait… what was I saying?"
Yuel froze. He was in shock. Was he the first person in history to forget what he was saying while talking to himself?
A wave of sadness passed over him. He turned to check the fish—they were nearly burnt. Luo's fire left no scent behind, as it erased all spiritual traces. That made it easy to forget they were even cooking.
But they were still edible. He poured the last of his ink over them to extinguish the fire and enjoyed his breakfast.
Afterward, he stared at the scenery, then carried out his daily routine. Home, playing with Luo, fishing… simple, monotonous, yet satisfying. He even caught five fish—and found a first-stage dhune corpse on the way. Motivating.
Normally he ate two meals, but thanks to yesterday's large catch, he had a third.
On his way home, he thought about making tea. He'd heard his own voice again—he was sure of it. But he also knew he hadn't spoken. He couldn't have said that. Still... no point dwelling on it.
Later, when the crystals brightened enough to light up the ground...
He went to the Great Plains, walked to the lone tree at the center, and picked a fruit. He ate it while watching the view.
Then a voice came.
"How about facing danger? What's the worst that could happen?"
Again? That was his voice. This was strange—he wasn't speaking, yet still heard his voice.
But… thinking too much was pointless. Maybe he should just do what he wanted instead.
Really… what's the worst that could happen?
He took one bite from the fruit, then placed it back where he found it.
Today, he would face danger.
He would walk as far as his eyes could see.
Yuel left the plains—but couldn't go far. The colors distorted, the world became pixelated. Wherever he'd seen in the distance, he couldn't reach it. He turned back.
Too much time had passed. The sky darkened suddenly.
From the sky above the plains, the hunter appeared.
The giant owl.
This time, Yuel wasn't lucky.
And Luo wasn't with him.
Yuel died before he could even understand what was happening.
...
Wake up.
Watch the view.
Play with Luo.
Go fishing.
Eat fruit.
Face danger.
The same scenario played out hundreds of times.
And every single one...
was forgotten.
...
Yuel yawned and stood. He remembered something from yesterday. Fighting the owl. Then seeing something behind him. Screaming at Luo.
But he didn't want to think about it.
"Wait…"
"That thing… the owl's head? When did that get here? I don't remember returning home. Something's wrong."
But he didn't want to think. It felt like something would destroy him if he did. Like his life was no more valuable than an ant's—and some god was forcing him to live this way.
You couldn't defy a god—unless you reached their level.
But how?
He didn't want to think. Yet he was clever. And the answer was simple enough that thinking wasn't required.
If a titan that could mess with his mind had truly appeared, then a bloodline must have awakened.
Memories erased, traumas forgotten, possibly even losing Luo—it all pointed to a major trigger event.
He stripped off his clothing, leaving only the black leather pants. Bloodlines didn't typically appear in embarrassing places... he hoped.
Bloodlines awakened during intense emotional moments in the Undergarden—usually great losses or breakdowns. They etched themselves onto the body as tattoos—runes in ancient script.
And when touched, they whispered.
He saw it—spirals and lines running from his left collarbone to his left ear. In the middle of the spiral:
"Whi-is-phe-er"
Whisper.
A word used in ancient tongues to mean either divine guidance or maddening delusion. Either salvation… or destruction.
He touched the mark with his left hand.
He was instantly pulled into a void.
The same black emptiness.
The same silhouette.
And the same words:
"Hello --- ----, I don't know what you're saying right now, and I need you to understand that as I'm recording this, I am in great danger. So I must be quick—do you have any questions?"
Yuel immediately ended the message. This recording always played the moment he activated his power. That meant he had done this before—many times.
And each time, it had not worked.
Three recordings, he believed. He could analyze them. But one was… strange. Suspicious. Maybe it was holding him back.
Wait—what if he created an assistant?
The whispers were his power. Couldn't they help him think when he couldn't?
Yes—someone to think for him. Search his memories. Guide him.
Because right now... he couldn't think at all.
But to create something like that, he needed mana. Pure fuel of the universe.
But this wasn't the real world, was it? Maybe it was. Maybe not. Either way, there was no mana source here.
He would have to give up something of his own.
But what?
His legs? No—he needed to walk. His chest? Vital organs. His right arm—he used for combat. His bones—held him together.
Hair? Not enough mana. Plus, he liked it.
His left arm? He could fight without it.
Or… an eye?
One eye would still let him see, but… a blind spot?
No—he needed full vision.
The decision was made.
Yuel placed his fingers on the ancient rune at the center of his mark.
He conveyed his thoughts and desires to the bloodline.
And at that moment, Yuel's voice trembled.
Because it worked.
To use his power, he needed mana. But the only source… was his own sleeping body.
So he sacrificed his voice.
And gave his last breath.