?? / ?? / ????, ??:?? - ????????, ???????????????????.
The world lay under the shroud of darkness.
A cluster of light painted the sky above, the stars that seemed so distant and unreal, like a dream of children.
The realm stretched without end, a boundless black sea, its waves rising and falling beneath a crimson sky.
A red rain of blood appeared to fall from nothingness; the rain was so dense, leaving a pungent and metallic odor that permeated the entire world.
It was the end of the world, or perhaps, what lingered after its destruction.
---
In this realm, the boy ran and braved his way through the storm, standing above this sea as if it were ground.
His ragged school uniform was long, soaked in red as if dipped in blood; the short, wet pants clung tightly to his small and frail legs.
His dead and lifeless eyes stared ahead, emptied of everything, only purpose and obsession driving him forward.
Hand limped towards the side, his immature body a bit hunched as the rain of blood soaked him, dark hair sticking to his porcelain face, blood sliding from his temple to his pale white lips.
Taste of rust, metal, and then death.
Waves after waves crashed against his trembling legs and body, the roar of the sea and its might crashing towards him, and then bigger waves came from afar.
Unflinching, he surged forward as though a walking corpse.
He awakened in this realm; perhaps he had been dead after all.
The explosion at that moment, the figure of his father, brother, that shielding him, and his sister in his embrace.
His body tumbled and twisted like inside a blender, then crashed to the surface of the sea like solid ground.
Despite this, he quickly stood up; his body still moving towards one place, slowly but surely.
And then, as if answering his prayer or desperation, a scene from afar came into his field of vision; the area shrouded in rain cleared up a bit, followed by a red fog.
'Three doors' stood quietly; it was just a lonely door frame, a strange contrast in this dark world.
Existing in silence, undisturbed by the chaos and scene around, as though it did not belong in this world, something unreachable.
As if injected with hope, those despaired and lifeless eyes brightened a little, eyes completely red in madness as he quickened his pace, uncaring of himself.
With each step he took, the red fog clung to his legs—pain, pain, pain, as if his skin was seared away, body pricked with needles.
His expressionless face twisted, and the madness in his red eyes became unbearable.
But still, he ran through it, with each step the area around his feet parted slightly, revealing the dark sea that had turned red, a howling face pressed from beneath to the surface—these faces were of the boy himself.
As he came closer, the view of the door became much clearer.
A weathered white door, corroded by age, its door frames cracked, metal plates covered with rust, words unreadable.
The maroon door in the center gaped halfway open, six chains coiled around it. The end of the chains extended to the shadow behind this door, as if suppressing something.
Then, a white-golden door to the right gleamed faintly, its surface covered with a pattern of gray dragon and golden serpent.
Seeing the other door closed, he decisively abandoned it and rushed towards the maroon door, throwing his whole body into it.
But the door did not budge an inch; his fingers clawed at the cold chain that bound it, fingers bleeding, his expression more ferocious, tears streaming down his raging face.
The metal rattled violently with each pull, but it wouldn't even bulge.
"Why?! Why won't you open?!" he screamed, punching the door relentlessly until his knuckles split, "It's this close! I will give everything, please open it!"
But the door remained silent, only leaving a faint opening, as if mocking his attempt.
Then, faint black mist, in contrast to red, emerged from that gap, as if enticing him.
Malice surged from the black mist, enveloping his legs, then his body, further coiling upward.
A warm, comforting voice sounded in his mind, the sound of his parents, his siblings, and those warm mornings.
"Burn them all! Burn the world that took everything from you, let it all perish, even you!" Then slowly, as if influenced or convinced.
The red in his eyes became more intense as if bleeding into reality itself; his two hands slowly moved towards his neck, grasping it tightly.
"Just a little more, just a little more, I will bring all of you back, I promise," he muttered and closed his eyes.
The six chains rattled violently as if sensing his weakness; even the red fog surged up, as if about to welcome something, to be reborn.
But then, as if tired of this farce and malice, the silent white-golden door opened a gap.
From this gap, a golden brilliance seeped through, a weightless flow of gold winding like a river.
The red fog recoiled with a hissing sound as the two contacted each other.
Compromised, the red fog shrank back towards its origin.
As if sucked away, the black mist also surrendered itself, seeping back through the maroon door.
The storm grew still, along with the red rain.
As if aware of his own actions, the red in his eyes faded, replaced by grey and lifeless eyes.
His hand on his neck slowly lowered, and he stared at it for a moment, a mix of pale and bloody.
Skin cracked open, bone and raw flesh throbbing at the meet of air, blood still flowing slowly, nails torn and smeared red.
He then slowly moved his dim and hollow eyes towards the white-golden door, still maintaining its gap.
A faint, hollow smile, as if tired and on the verge of crying, also mocking, either his own pitiful self or the world, plastered on his face.
Step by step, he moved his body towards the white-golden door.
Behind him, the maroon door closed with a shudder, as if wanting to merge with this silence.
Then 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 raised his broken and bloody hand, grasped the handle tightly as if afraid of losing it, along with the pain that kept him awake.
Then he pushed it open.
The river of golden light rushed from behind the door, swallowed his body, and briefly illuminated the darkness of the world.
---
The figure in front of the doors disappeared.
The boy stood in a world of white, a vast sea of gold reflected in his grey eyes, endless as it was, as if the world were divided into only white and gold.
The skies were dotted with colorful lines; their start and end unseen, like rivers of stars, flowing endlessly.
In this unblemished brilliance, a huge being rose from the depths of gold in front of him.
A serpent opened its eyes.
Its body coiled across the horizon unseen, silver scales illusory, incomplete patterns and symbols appearing on the surface.
The golden eyes gazed down toward him from above, like two suns in the sky.
The boy stood motionless, impassive gaze back toward the sun.
Compared to the serpent, his frail and immature body was less than an ant before a mountain.
Yet he did not kneel, nor was he afraid; perhaps he was too tired of everything, here for a chance, willing to sacrifice anything.
His dead eyes looked at the being that filled this world.
"You said it before," the boy muttered, voice hoarse. "What will you choose, right?"
His tone was dry and hoarse.
He spoke plainly, stating his confusion and asking about this world or everything that had happened to him.
"Do I even have a choice?"
"What choice could I make? Can you tell me?"
Silence fell; the serpent's gaze unreadable, facing him for a few moments.
The serpent flicked its tongue, tone slow and natural.
"You do," it said. "Now."
"One favor," said the serpent. "For one price."
Still gazing at those beings, his face lit slightly, lips moving, shaking, "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, mouth gaping slightly, knuckles clenched, then, in resignation, stopped.
"What is the price?" barely holding his voice.
The serpent lowered its massive head, breath stirring the golden river.
"What can you pay," it whispered, "for fate itself?"
Then he said quickly, as if afraid of losing this chance, "Everything, I will give you everything, my body, my soul! As long as there is a chance, yes! Yes! I will even sacrifice the whole world for you!"
His eyes twisted between madness then hatred.
"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 was visible.
"Good."
"In exchange for yourself, I grant you fate, chance, and choice."
"Use it well, Shirakami Akane. Do not regret what you choose."
Both knew this was not a simple transaction; between exchanging body, soul, and reversal of fate, there might be a deeper price for the future.
But Akane didn't care, as long as there was tomorrow for his siblings, as long as he remained alive.
He would surely find a way, absolutely.
Then the air trembled. The serpent opened its mouth.
---
He closed his eyes.
Pain.
Once again, a searing and absolute pain through his entire being, as if dissolved in acid.
His soul convulsed, shredded thread by thread, essence by essence.
He screamed his lungs out, though no sound came.
His body twisted, collapsed, and vanished into the river of light.
The serpent consumed him.
---
Reality.
From the massive crater, a pillar of golden light rose and tore open the world.
The explosion that devoured a continent froze mid-bloom, then folded inward.
The light that should have destroyed the star system turned back on itself.
Then, everything stopped, as if hitting a pause button.
Every creature, divine or mortal, felt it. A stillness deeper than silence.
The fabric of space and time trembled, ripples blooming endlessly, spreading.
One could see the scenery of the other side, a colossal serpent eye looking toward the universe, from the crack of light, a river of golden light slowly flowing, submerging all things.
The "process" re-initiated, moving toward the first "cause" that defined all chaos and apocalypse.
Skies rebuilt. Cities rose. The sea retracted. Half of the world lived again.
Then, as if sensing or warning something, the serpent hissed, tongue flicking.
Chaos and uncertainty spread, rendering calculation, destiny, and fate meaningless.
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 unconscious.
Then the serpent closed its eyes, as if finishing its part.
The crack of light slowly closed and dissolved into golden particles drifting in space.
The world was calm once again, back to the day before, as if nothing had happened.
Except for the half-continent of divine corpses that had sunk into the Pacific.
And a boy who would never again be the same.