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The dark, calm sea is now gone.
What remained was a vast, heaving darkness, waves thrashing beneath a red sky, rain falling from nowhere, each drop tasting of iron and sorrow.
There were no clouds, no wind, only the endless rain, and the sound of it breaking upon a dark sea.
A boy stumbled through the storm. His figure was faint, half-transparent, as if his own existence was being washed away by the rain.
Yet he walked forward, step by step, through the black water that reached his ankle. There was no hesitation in his gait, only exhaustion, and something like purpose.
From afar, three doors stood amidst the rising mist.
Red fog crept up from the sea, swirling around his legs. The white door on the left was weathered and old, its frame corroded with age.
The maroon door in the center gaped halfway open, six chains straining behind it like tendons ready to snap.
The white-golden door to the right gleamed faintly, untouched by time, silent as if waiting.
He did not slow. He passed the other door without looking, his eyes fixed ahead to the maroon door.
He reached the handle of the Maroon Door, its mist curling around him like smoke, and his body froze.
One hand had already found the edge of the door, trembling.
Malice surged from within.
It was warm, almost comforting, the voice of a thousand hatreds whispering through the gap.
Burn them all. Burn the world that took everything from you. Judge them. Engrave your revenge upon this world.
The six chains behind rattled violently, as if sensing his weakness.
For a brief moment, the storm grew still.
Then, without his notice, a sliver of light pierced the darkness.
From the right, the white-golden door opened a gap.
Golden light spilled through like a river, weaving between raindrops, washing over the red mist.
The blood-colored fog recoiled, hissing, shrinking back toward its origin. The sound of straining chains faded away.
The boy looked at his own hand, still clutching the maroon door, and slowly lowered it. His eyes, dim and hollow, turned toward the golden light.
His walked toward the door, steps were heavy, yet steady.
Behind him, the maroon door closed with a shudder, and the chains stilled once more.
He stood before the white-golden door.
Etched upon its surface were the twin carvings of a serpent and a dragon, their forms intertwined yet distinct. He reached for the handle. The door opened effortlessly.
Golden radiance bloomed like the sun, bathing his figure in radiance.
It swallowed him whole.
Then he disappears, and silence returned.
---
He stood in a world of white.
A sea of golden light flowed past his feet, reaching his knees. The sky was dotted with infinite lines, like rivers of stars, flowing endlessly in every direction. In that brilliance, a shadow stirred.
A being, the Serpent, opened its eyes.
Its body coiled across the horizon, its head vast enough to blot the heavens. Illusory silver scales reflected the light in waves, incomplete patterns above the surface, seeming like shedding its skin, golden eyes gazed down like suns.
The boy stood motionless.
He had seen many impossible things, but this was beyond comprehension. Compared to the Serpent, he was less than an ant before a mountain.
Yet he did not kneel. And only now, can we take a look at Akane's face, hollow, weary, and haggard, like a lost soul, he will probably catch any straws that are thrown to him, desperate.
He merely stared, hollow-eyed, at the being that filled his world.
"You said it before," the boy muttered, his voice hoarse. "What will you choose, right?"
His tone was dry, almost mocking, but exhaustion stripped it of power.
He laughed, barely. "Do I even have a choice?"
"What choice could I make? Can you tell me?"
Silence fell once again, after a moment. The Serpent's tongue flickered, slow and deliberate.
"You do," it said. "Now."
His fingers shook, though his face did not.
"One favor," said the Serpent. "For one price."
His lips parted, barely moving. "Can you… revert it all? Bring them back?"
"Cannot." The Serpent's voice echoed, rippling the river beneath their feet.
"You do not have enough. Only the world shall be reversed. All that bears the mark of Origin will remain as it is."
The boy was silent. Then he raised his head, eyes dull but resolute.
"What is the price?"
The Serpent lowered its massive head, its breath stirring the golden river.
"What can you pay," it whispered, "for fate itself?"
He stared at his hands again, at the faint shimmer of the dark rain still staining his skin. After a long silence, he spoke.
"I'll sacrifice everything. My weakness, my useless self, half of my soul, if that's the price. But leave me the pain. The memory. The despair. Everything that happened today, leave it to me."
The Serpent's eyes gleamed, flickering amidst the light; a faint reptilian pupil can be seen.
"Good."
"In exchange for your soul, I grant you fate, chance, and choice."
"Use it well, Shirakami Akane. Do not regret what you choose."
Both of them know that this is not a simple transaction; between the exchange of body, soul, and reversal of fate, there may be a deeper price for the future.
The air trembled. The Serpent opened its mouth.
---
He closes his eyes.
Pain.
A searing, absolute pain that tore through his being. His soul convulsed, shredded thread by thread. He screamed, though no sound came. His body twisted, collapsed, and vanished into the river of light.
The Serpent consumed him.
---
Reality.
The golden light tore open the world.
The explosion that devoured a continent froze in mid-bloom, then folded inward. The light that should have destroyed the star system turned back on itself, turns backward.
And then, everything stopped.
Every creature, every being, divine or mortal, felt it. A stillness deeper than silence.
The golden light rose from the crater, piercing the heavens. Reality itself trembled.
One can see the scenery of the other side, a colossal Serpent eye, looking towards the universe, from the crack of light, a river of golden light slowly flows and submerges all things in its wake.
Time rewound, the cycle of "process".
Skies rebuilt themselves. Cities rose. The sea retracted. Half of Asia lived again.
The Serpent hissed. Chaos and uncertainty spread, infecting causality itself.
When the light finally dimmed, the Serpent lowered its head.
Before it lay Akane's unconscious body, small, fragile, yet glowing faintly with golden light.
Something stirred nearby, a faint silhouette of a girl, reaching out to stop it.
The Serpent turned its gaze toward her.
Her essence flickered, unraveling, until she, too, fell into unconsciousness.
Then the Serpent closed its eyes.
The world was calm again.
Except for the half-continent of divine corpse fallen into the Pacific.
And a boy who would never again be the same.