Rio woke slowly.
His body felt unbearably heavy, as if gravity itself had tightened its grip around him. Every limb refused to move at first—numb, distant, almost foreign, like they no longer truly belonged to him. He lay on something soft… moss, perhaps… yet a faint cold seeped through it, sending a slow shiver along his spine.
His head throbbed violently.
The world tilted in slow, nauseating waves.
For one terrifying heartbeat, a single thought pierced through the fog.
Had he failed?
Was he still trapped between worlds—between life and nothingness?
Rio forced a breath into his lungs and slowly opened his eyes.
Light exploded across his vision.
He gasped, squeezing them shut, his heart hammering wildly. When he dared to look again, the brightness softened into something breathtaking.
Sky.
An endless sky stretched above him—vast, open, impossibly blue. Sunlight poured down in warm waves, almost painful after the eternal darkness he had known. Instinctively, Rio lifted an arm to shield his eyes, his chest rising and falling unevenly.
He was breathing.
He was alive.
A trembling breath escaped him.
Relief surged through his body—
—and then vanished.
Something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
Gritting his teeth, Rio slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. The moment he moved, the world spun violently. He froze, clutching the ground, waiting for the dizziness to fade.
The forest came into focus.
Tall trees surrounded the clearing, their leaves swaying gently as a soft breeze moved through them. The sound was calm—almost rhythmic—like the world itself was breathing. Birds sang somewhere in the distance. No engines. No voices. No trace of Earth.
The air smelled different.
Fresh soil. Pine. Something faintly sweet and unfamiliar.
It felt unreal.
Almost magical.
For a brief moment, the peace threatened to swallow him—to make him forget everything that had come before.
Then memory struck like a blade.
Filip.
Oathkeeper.
Rio's eyes snapped open.
"Filip…?" he whispered.
No answer.
His heart began to race.
His gaze drifted across the clearing—and then stopped.
Beyond the trees, rising silently from the earth, stood a pyramid.
Ancient. Massive.
Its stone surface was worn by time, yet it stood impossibly intact, like a monument untouched by decay. Statues surrounded it—figures frozen in stone, watching, guarding.
One of them stood closer than the rest.
A statue of an archer.
Tall and poised, carved mid-motion as if eternally drawing a bow. Long ears rose from its head, sharp and elegant. Its posture was calm. Focused. Unshaken.
At the statue's feet lay two objects.
A bow, resting carefully against the stone.
And beside it—
A sword.
Nothing else.
No sign of chaos. No scattered belongings.
Just the weapons.
They seemed to belong there.
As if the statue had placed them there intentionally.
As if they were waiting.
Rio stared at them, his breath shallow.
They were close.
Close enough to reach.
But he didn't move.
His body still felt wrong—too heavy, too unfamiliar. Standing felt impossible, like his legs would collapse the moment he tried. So he stayed where he was, seated on the ground, eyes locked on the bow and sword.
"Filip!" he called, his voice breaking the stillness.
Fear sharpened every syllable.
Silence answered him.
Then—
A sound.
Muttering.
Faint. Uneven.
It came from behind one of the broken statues near the pyramid.
Relief slammed into Rio so hard his shoulders sagged.
He wasn't alone.
Filip awoke to sensation.
Too much sensation.
Every sound crashed into him at once—the whisper of wind through leaves, the distant call of birds, the subtle creak of stone shifting nearby. Even the brush of air against his skin sent shivers through his body. His heart pounded violently in his ears.
Something was wrong.
Deeply wrong.
"Ugh…" he groaned.
His head throbbed.
His body felt misaligned—like his sense of balance had shifted without permission.
Then he heard it.
"Filip!"
Rio's voice.
Fearful.
Relief tore through him instantly.
"I'm—here!" Filip tried to call back, but his voice came out rough and strained.
He pushed himself upright—
—and immediately stumbled, barely catching himself against a nearby statue.
"What…?" he muttered. "Why does this feel so—"
His legs didn't move the way he expected.
His weight felt wrong.
Frowning, Filip steadied himself and forced his body forward, moving slowly toward Rio's voice.
Then he saw him.
Filip froze.
Someone was sitting in the clearing ahead of him.
White hair caught the sunlight. Long, animal-like ears twitched nervously atop their head. A pale, fluffy tail rested against the ground behind them, curled tight.
They weren't human.
Not even close.
And yet—
"…Rio?" Filip whispered.
The figure flinched violently, eyes snapping toward him.
"Why do you know my name!?" Rio demanded, panic sharp in his voice.
Everything clicked.
The heightened senses.
The unstable balance.
The wrongness of his own body.
Slowly, Filip turned his head.
A white tail swayed behind him.
Silence fell.
Then laughter burst from his chest.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was impossible.
Terrifying.
And laughter was the only thing keeping his mind from breaking.
Rio recoiled, fear flashing across his face.
"Answer me!" he shouted. "Who are you!?"
Filip forced himself to breathe.
He raised his hands slowly, showing he meant no harm.
"I know this is scary," he said quietly.
He met Rio's eyes.
"It's me."
His voice softened.
"Filip."
Rio's breath caught.
Filip glanced down at himself—his hands, his ears, his tail.
Then back at Rio.
"…Rio," he said, his voice trembling, "I don't think we're human anymore."