After the collapse of the Second Hell…
Kim does not fall.
He is pulled.
Not downward—
but inward.
As if reality opened its mouth and swallowed him.
Silence.
Not natural silence—
but silence that devours thoughts.
He awakens standing.
No ground beneath his feet.
Only a stone platform floating in a gray-white void.
Statues surround him.
Cracked faces.
Eyes open.
But lifeless.
As if they screamed until the meaning of sound itself ended.
Kim takes a step.
No sound.
Even his movement has no echo.
He tries to laugh…
No sound.
He tries to breathe…
Nothing is heard.
Then—
A word appears in the air before him:
Who are you?
He does not answer.
But inside, something replies:
"Kim."
The word trembles.
Cracks.
Falls from his mind.
A moment of emptiness.
His eye moves slowly.
A voice within whispers:
"Your name… is unnecessary."
A statue before him shifts slightly.
Its stone mouth opens.
"We… once had names."
"Then we grew tired."
The void presses against his head.
Thoughts slow.
The edges of his memories fade.
Any sane person here…
would collapse.
Melt.
Turn into a statue.
But the problem?
Kim is not sane.
He is completely mad.
And he does not cling to identity to begin with.
The voice asks again:
Who are you?
Kim lifts his head.
His eye does not search for meaning—
but for something to break.
Then he smiles.
Even without sound…
the smile is terrifying.
And he answers within the void:
"Who are you."
The silence trembles.
The statues shake.
The question repeats, more violently:
Who are you?!
This time—
chaos answers.
The void cracks.
"I am… nothing."
The stone platform beneath him fractures.
The statues begin to fall.
The Hell of Lost Identity finds nothing to hold onto.
Because before it stands a being…
who has already abandoned himself.
The void tries one last time.
His memories disappear completely.
His name is erased.
Even his face distorts.
But instead of collapsing…
his energy erupts.
True chaos does not need an "I."
It simply… happens.
The statues shatter.
The platforms crumble.
The Third Hell is not destroyed by explosion—
it is emptied.
Turned into nothing.
Amid the void…
one voice alone echoes.
Older.
Heavier.
"He has passed the third stage… without identity."
Then a deeper whisper than before:
"If he continues… nothing will remain to save."
And Kim?
Only one sensation moves within him:
Destroy.
Move.
Downward.
Toward the source.