The hologram vanishes.
Boy trembles.
The hologram vanished not with a sputter of light, but with a silent, heavy sigh that seemed to drain the residual warmth from the obsidian room.
Boy's essence, which minutes ago had been a cloud of bewildered confusion, now vibrated with a sharp, painful clarity.
"That…" Boy projected, the non-word hitting the silence like a stone dropped into a deep well.
He shocked not because of supernatural scene or seeing bloodbath first time or heaven reaction but to the man's words. He remembered the words but not the person, not even the scene but only words which exactly is same.
The words that said by person is same oath that he take.
He tried to recall the context of his memory. The harsh sunlight.
The cool shadow of the clouds and walls stretching out too far.
The spectacles are coming off—a gesture of finality then he remembered these words but that person and scene is totally different.
It was a memory utterly alien to the mundane, but the words same as him.
The Voice answered, softer now, but infinitely firmer, like the core of the earth.
"Why his word exactly same as mine?" Boy vision narrowed.
"This is something, I don't know. But, that moment was the synchronization point. The instance where the mechanism of your and his purpose synced but never connected. After he ceased due lightning bombarded both purpose did not separated and his origin cycle destroyed and purpose became uniquely yours. You chose a will that higher than that which governs the common path."
"What does that mean?"
"It's like as I said." Voice said. " Both you and him said these words at same time. But due to heaven lighting, his existence is erased with his soul. Now all yours responsibility will come onto your shoulders. And for you, this is like opportunity. Obviously if you want that opportunity."
"Means I can choose to or not." Boy asked.
"Exactly," the Voice affirmed.
" If you not want. You can go back and live the life as you lived until now. But if you choosed to go forward You will begin a journey of self-determination, a path that required constant vigilance and the unwavering commitment to your own chosen ethical structure. The path that demand too much effort, too much risk. So, choose wisely."
Boy floated closer to the pocket watch, which is now displayed 12:12, a time of suspension.
He could see the intricate, frantic dance of the tiny gears, the sparkling fragments of his life: the smell of rain, a forgotten joke, the anxiety of an exam.
The air was a silent, crushing weight. It was not air, truly, but an absence—a timeless vacuum contained within walls of polished, dimensionless obsidian.
There was no beginning, no end, only the low, constant hum of forgotten potential.
In this void stood boy. He didn't know what future hold yet, not really, a profound emptiness that resided in his soul.
Boy felt a faint, distant shard of memory prick him, sharp and painful. A vow. A cosmic obligation that transcended even death.
"And what happens if I didn't complete that vow?" the Boy asked, a flicker of genuine curiosity finally stirring within the deep well of his apathy.
"You simply cease into oblivion."
"Why is that?"
"Because of the vow you took. It is more than it seems. First, you were seen as an enemy by gods, demons, angels, the world, and the heavens. Even if you don't do anything. That is why this Cycle of Origin will grant one wish in exchange for death."
The Boy looked down at his own hands, which were starting to fade at the edges, dissolving into motes of light and shadow.
"Means?"
"Meaning you are dead, child. You are dead, but you can be revived if you wish to go back—go back to that empty, meaningless college life you didn't even care about. But if you want to go forward, you cannot go b—"
"Okay," the Boy interrupted, cutting the Voice short.
A moment of stunned silence followed.
"What?" the Voice questioned, the crystal tone momentarily fracturing into surprise.
"I said I will go forward. But what do I have to do?" Boy's apathy had finally been pierced, replaced by a cold, calculating determination he himself didn't recognize. This was the true soul stirring beneath the mortal mask.
"But in new life, you don't remember anything until you will reach the age of awakening," the Voice reminded him, its tone regaining its cautious gravity. "And, you need to remember yourself and defeat the gods, demons, angels, and the person blessed by heaven and the world in your next life."
"is they really exist, in also mortal world? And i have to find one by one to kill them?" boy asked, not out of skepticism, but for clarification.
"No, no. You will find them. And they exist in mortal world also, but they didn't come by themselves in mortal world. They send their blessed one, favourite, followers, worshippers and their children."
"So they exist," Elias repeated.
And for the very first time in what felt like after death, boy smiled. It was a chilling, dark expression, colder than the deepest reaches of space and darker than the obsidian walls that contained them.
"Gods, demons, angels, the world, heaven," he whispered, savoring the names like bitter wine. "Interesting. Very interesting."
The Voice, seemingly relieved by the choice, grew softer, more instructional. "If you are ready, take the watch. This watch is the Cycle of Origin. It is yours. It will be transferred to your consciousness and it will help you find your target. And you will remember yourself after awakening, and this time, you will be reborn with your memory. But remember in next life, they will not just send their followers or worshippers but will come by themselve and you fight them in real."
"Ah! Yes, one more question. What do you get from giving this opportunity?"
And then no voice comes out. Then room begins to tremble.
A heavy wrist-piece, forged from swirling shadow and etched with glowing, ancient runes, appeared floating before him. Boy reached out and grasped the Watch.
The moment his fingers closed around the cold metal, the watch ceased to be solid. It melted, becoming a liquid gas of pure light and obsidian dust, rushing toward his head.
It plunged into his skull, not violently, but with the searing speed of a star collapsing.
Immediately, the obsidian room shattered. Everything seemed to melt, the void giving way to oblivion.
Then all its left is chilling emptiness. And, a metallic voice reached his ear, " You?"
Then, a vortex formed, a tunnel of screaming light and color. But in those fleeting moments he see. He see his eerie and horror eyes. It is devoid of any emotion. Utterly strange.
Then another vortex formed, this one is radiating powerful grey aura, and a ethereal women with white hair and white clothes come out from another vortex. Her sword is shining like a blue moon light in whole vast canvas.
She see the boy, and as he is about entre the vortex she moves as fast as she could. Reached him and grab his hand. She smile and just give pride and dangerous looks towards that voice face. Just like watch she is also changed her form and and that form rushed towards boy's head and entered into it.
Seeing that women is dangerous, voice formed a hand of purple solid aura. It is dangerous and terrifying, it's hand launched towards them. But before his attack reached them both sucked in.