An endless expanse without clear boundaries, no air, no flow of time. What Zavi felt now was nothing but guilt, deeply rooted in his mind. There was no physical pain, only pressure gnawing at his soul.
"Who is that?"
A woman wearing a white dress that nearly touched her ankles walked toward him. When their eyes met, that memory suddenly surfaced when he had once been chased by two hunters, followed by the guilt that had haunted him ever since, a passing woman who was shot dead because of him.
"So we finally meet," the woman muttered coldly. "What do you think, will you come with me?"
Zavi froze, only staring at the woman with wide eyes and trembling hands.
"Answer me, bastard!" She pointed behind Zavi.
Zavi slowly turned his head, and… He stood frozen as he saw countless people drifting toward a place divided between darkness and light, each of their souls having died in different ways.
A knife was still embedded in a woman's chest. A burly man walked while carrying a severed head in his hand. There were many more people who died mysteriously, or perished because of their involvement in rituals.
This became an answer to deaths that could not be explained by the authorities, and this was what could be called a "Theater" deliberately shown to him.
'Are all of these the cause of those unnatural deaths? Victims of rituals, or were their souls dragged here just like mine?'
He turned back toward the woman in front of him. Her once radiant face had now turned pitch black and horrifying; just looking at it was enough to damage his soul.
"No. I—I… I don't know anything about your death," he muttered in panic as he stepped back little by little.
'Damn it… what should I do? How did I end up in this endless, strange place?'
Annoyed, he clicked his tongue.
'Bastard... I knew this had to be that damn woman's doing.'
As panic gnawed at his mind, he saw the woman approach him again, extending her hand before tightly gripping his body, dragging him toward hundreds of millions of souls walking to a place where spirits would rest forever, or fall into darkness to reflect on their sins.
"Impossible. I don't want to go there! Let go of my hand!"
He panicked. He tried to break free from her grip, but he could not even touch the woman's hand—his own hand simply passed through it.
"Don't be noisy… I want you to atone for your sins immediately," the woman said softly, yet her face was filled with anger.
Unable to break free, Zavi decided to move in the opposite direction so that his soul would not truly vanish. He realized that both his legs had begun to evaporate, and he feared his entire soul would soon be torn apart.
'I don't know how I got here! My ears still hurt from hearing those strange whispers earlier, as if my life was being forcibly torn from my body.' Zavi thought about the strange events that kept repeating.
The woman stopped and turned back with the same expression. "Hey! Do you really think you can refuse my invitation?" Her voice was as sharp as a blade.
Zavi's eyes widened. Then… He was dragged at lightning speed to the left, into a strange place that was completely dark.
"No. Please save me, forgive me. I don't want to die."
Zavi screamed in panic. As the woman entered the completely dark region, all he felt was pain, fear, and endless madness.
'Hah… am I going to die soon? Forgive me if I can't keep my promise, Moreira.' Before his consciousness faded, he felt his soul like a leaf, helpless, as parts of his body were eaten little by little by a swarm of worms.
Without a moment to breathe, he was moved again to a place similar to Forgenate, though it could not truly be called Forgenate.
A parallel world.
The place was empty, abandoned, silent, as if humanity had left it hundreds, even thousands of years ago. The only sounds he could hear were his own breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart.
"What will happen next? I can't take it anymore… Please help me, anyone who can hear this, please…."
But it was all in vain. There was no one there.
He lay face down, his gaze fixed on something ahead—a large building overgrown with bushes and wild grass on all sides, a place he had visited before.
Zavi immediately realized.
"No way… isn't this Forgenate? How could I be here?"
As he thought about it, his body was suddenly dragged forward, crashing into a fence, then into the building's wall, before finally being thrown into a spacious room that felt very familiar.
"So you've finally come. Actitus Zavi..."
Before he could fully open his eyes, he heard a calm, cold, and intimidating voice—enough to make his chest pound faster than before.
Without warning… Dozens of rusted knives with familiar shapes floated toward him, stabbing into his body one by one. Bright red blood slowly seeped from each wound, soaking his white shirt, his hands, and his legs.
"Ah..." he cried out in pain, "who did this?" he asked, his lips trembling from the assault of pain as his vision blurred from the blood flowing down his head.
The person who had spoken to him earlier calmly stepped closer, removing his hood and face covering. Zavi saw a man wearing thin black-framed glasses, with black hair, a few strands falling over his face.
'Impossible... how could he be here?'
Zavi's eyes widened. He could not see clearly, but he was certain who stood before him. Karl Vairanz.
Without giving him time to process what was happening, just like before when he met that woman, Karl calmly pulled a pistol from his coat pocket. He wore a suit Zavi had seen before, then aimed the brown pistol directly at him.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunshots echoed through the silent room. Each bullet pierced his right chest, left chest, center, including his stomach, thigh, and knee.
Bang!
Without hesitation, Karl pulled the trigger again. The bullet tore through the air, striking Zavi's forehead, tearing through flesh and skull.
"Ahh…."
After the pain overtook his mind and stole his breath, strangely, it vanished as if it had all been a dream. But it was not. He realized that every part of his body that had been wounded by bullets was now regenerating rapidly.
'This… this is just like the people I shot before. Damn it, am I the same as those strange people.' After thinking it through and realizing how reasonable it was, he gave a faint smile and tried to stand.
But from the side—
Bang!
A single shot hit his ankle, forcing him to kneel facing him. The wound regenerated on its own again, along with the chaos raging in his mind. All he could do was realize the uncertainty he had always been thinking about.
But just as he was about to completely give up, he lifted his face, wanting to see Karl's face one last time. Karl reminded him of Ren. Not the same, but similar enough to remind him of the family that had accepted him in this world after his long loneliness inside a prison cell, rarely—almost never—receiving family visits.
Strangely, he felt regret. If he had not chosen that path, he might have lived like an ordinary person—working, earning money, finding a partner, getting married, having children, raising them to adulthood, and eventually dying of old age. But none of that would ever happen. He did not know whether he could survive, or escape from this endless, strange place.
"Alright. If that's the case," he muttered with a bitter smile, though his face hid something indescribable.
"Do it quickly," he added firmly.
With a cold expression and without saying a single word, Karl pulled the trigger one last time.
Two bullets shot simultaneously toward the left side of Zavi's neck and his right wrist; the black marks that had previously been on both were instantly destroyed by the shots.
His brain could not process what had just happened. His mind went blank. Yet deep within him, his heart felt calmer after enduring so much horror.
'This time. I can finally be free and released from this strange world.'
That was his last thought before he completely disappeared from that place.
Moments later, his consciousness vanished entirely.
Then, without even having time to breathe in relief, after feeling as though the trial had ended, Zavi was shocked to find himself still in Eaurealis Castle, before its destruction on Thursday, before his consciousness moved into this body.
'I thought I would be free after all that. Turns out it's not that simple…'
As he muttered to himself, he heard a calm voice calling his name from behind, low and restrained, as if it did not want to be heard too clearly.
He turned around. A reflection of himself stood right behind him.
"How long have you been waiting?"
'Sorry, I'm not very sensitive to my true feelings.'
That voice—and that inner voice—belonged to a woman with pale blue eyes, clear like seawater reflecting cold light. Eyes without warmth, not out of arrogance, but from holding back emotions for too long. Her gaze was calm, deep, yet distant, as if there was a boundary no one was allowed to cross.
She wore a pale green dress with a simple and neat cut. The fabric fell naturally, without luxury—clearly not expensive, but well maintained. The collar was closed, long sleeves reaching her wrists, giving a cautious impression, like someone used to protecting herself. Her black hair was neatly tied and hidden beneath a matching round hat.
She was beautiful, but not the kind of beauty that demanded attention. There was something cold about her—a quiet, almost hollow elegance that made people hesitate to get too close. Zavi fell silent for a moment, because he recognized that face clearly. Aurora Chevalya.
The woman whom the original Zavi himself had brought to this place.
Aurora had always been like that—indifferent, cold, keeping her distance from others. But somehow, when speaking with the original Zavi, she was different. Not warm, not friendly, but more open. As if only in front of him did she stop pretending to be strong.
Zavi stared at the reflection of his own body. It was real. He could feel the fabric at his fingertips, the cold air against his neck.
'Is this… 2 days before I occupied this body? Why is it only being shown now? Turns out drinking that strange liquid had its use after all.'
Before he could fully understand, his consciousness was dragged again, falling into another moment.
After exploring the castle to his satisfaction, looking at the antique and luxurious items inside, they walked side by side in awkward silence. Small talk, forced steps to stay in sync. Zavi remembered that stiff feeling—slightly tense just from walking beside a woman whose mere expression could send chills down one's spine.
Those blue eyes remained the same. Clear, pale, and cold. Not the gaze of nobility, but of someone who had learned to survive too early.
The memory shifted again.
Evening approached night as they left the castle. The original Zavi, driven by a sense of responsibility he himself did not fully understand, offered to take her home by carriage. Aurora initially refused, briefly and coldly as usual, then chose silence.
The carriage moved along a stone road that grew darker, heading straight toward Forgenate on Street No. 1 Cohors.
Zavi knew that place. A vast district. Crowded. Cruel to those who had no one.
That was where Aurora lived. Not by choice, but because she had no other option. He knew the reason.
Ten years ago, when Aurora was ten years old, her parents left. Her older brother worked as a porter in the market, offering his labor to anyone willing to pay, often returning without wages, bringing only exhaustion.
Her older sister was often sick. At the age of fifteen, she worked not for herself, but to feed her younger sibling and her brother. She endured hunger countless times until her body could no longer bear it.
That stomach illness slowly took her away.
The carriage stopped in front of a small house, almost swallowed by darkness.
As the memory faded, Zavi's chest tightened not from anger, but from regret that came too late. He remembered his shallow prejudice back then, thinking Aurora was merely a cold woman who did not want to be approached. But that was not the truth, she was simply afraid to hope in others again.