Isaac stared at his sister
> "Two more months," he mumbled under his breath, barely audible.
"That's when it starts. The symptoms."
His eyes dropped to the cracked screen of his old phone — a relic barely holding together, much like everything else in their life. The glass shimmered with sunlight and dust, casting a warped reflection of his face.
Black hair. Average features. Nothing remarkable. But it wasn't his face that held him still — it was his eyes.
There was something behind them. Or maybe inside them.
Something… wrong.
> Was that me?
Or someone I used to be?
Someone I'm becoming?
For a moment, the reflection twisted — just slightly — as if something behind the glass was looking back.
Eyes filled with something wild. Fractured. Unstable.
Insanity.
He blinked — and it was gone.
"Let's go," Maya's voice called softly, pulling him out of the spiral.
The two siblings stepped outside, the old apartment door groaning as it shut behind them. The scent of morning grass curled into their lungs, fresh and earthy. A thin ray of sunshine sliced through the gray rooftops, brushing their faces like a gentle reminder that not everything had broken yet.
---
They were living in a crumbling apartment block on the edge of the district.
The kind of place people passed by but never looked at twice.
They shared the space with their uncle — a quiet man who had once laughed too easily and now barely spoke.
He had lost his wife and son during the first outbreak. There were no stories, no photos. Just silence.
Still, he took them in.
Even when he had nothing left — not in his pockets, not in his spirit — he made space for them.
He wasn't well. Not mentally. Not financially. But he tried.
And in this world, that was more than most.
---
Isaac paused just outside the stairwell, fingers trembling slightly as he slid the phone back into his coat.
His chest rose and fell too fast, like something caged was trying to break out.
He swallowed hard, then rubbed at his face with both hands — as if trying to wipe away something that clung to him.
> I won't waste it.
Not the time I have.
Not on thoughts that chew through your mind like rot.
He glanced at Maya — just a step ahead now, her silhouette framed in that narrow beam of sunlight.
> She needs me whole.
And I've already started to crack.
His jaw tightened. He reached out and briefly touched her shoulder — not enough to stop her, just to anchor himself.
Then, without a word, he followed her down the path, the weight in his chest growing heavier with every step.
Status... status...
Isaac kept mumbling to himself, even repeating the word a few times in his head.
But nothing happened.
He knew he wasn't awakened yet — not in this timeline.
But he could feel it.
That power he once held... even if only a fragment of the memory remained,
It still lingered deep in his soul.
But I can still feel it.
After Maya's death, I gave up on this world.
I became a beast — attacking dungeons, even though I was just an F-rank.
I would sneak in and fight. Again and again.
Maybe it was rebellion against the world.
Maybe it was rebellion against my own weakness.
I don't know.
I don't even know if I had a reason at all.
But thanks to that madness, I met my master —
An old soul of a warrior, forgotten by the world.
He helped me.
Taught me how to be human again.
...I wish I could meet him in this life too.
---
A bus stopped in front of the siblings — their ride to the so-called school.
Isaac took a breath before gently taking Maya's hand and guiding her onto the bus.
He wasn't completely sure about this life — or even the one he had before.
But one thing was certain:
If it's for the sake of this soft little hand he's holding…
He wouldn't mind turning the whole world into a mess.