How much time has passed?
The question itself was strange. Almost absurd. Time is a rather interesting thing... No. On the contrary. It's utterly boring.
No matter how hard a person tries to understand it, no matter how they measure it, in seconds, hours, eras, time never obeys. It moves. Always moves. Never speeding up or slowing down for the sake of someone else's thoughts. But is that only boredom?
Interest…
Yes. That's it. It's precisely the interest that makes it boring.
Everything revolves around time. Everything is tied to it. Every life, every event, every expectation – everything is measured by time. The irony is that time itself, no matter how you count it, will never become interesting.
And yet…
Why exactly did Zario consider him the most boring thing in the entire universe? It's a mystery.
How much time has passed?
How long had it been since he last closed his eyes?
Seconds? - Noo.
A few hours? - No, indeed.
Days? - Not close at all!
Years? - More!
Several centuries? - Come on, go on!
MILLIONS OF YEARS? - NO!
BILLIONS OF YEARS? — NOT EVEN CLOSE!
TRILLIONS OF YEARS? - stop.
How much time has passed?
There was no answer. Not even a hint. The question itself seemed to lose its meaning, dissolving like sound in a vacuum. And Zario didn't even understand what was happening.
***
Moments later, Zario opened his eyes.
And he immediately realized that words were useless here.
Something unspeakable lay before him. The infinite expanse of the universe flowed in all directions at once, as if reality were liquid. There was no top or bottom. No horizon. No end. Only depth, reaching into everything at once.
Stars?
Galaxies?
No.
It was bigger. Much bigger. The space didn't just exist; it crushed him with its sheer scale, as if testing whether the mind could even comprehend such a thing.
"What the hell? This is insane. Am I dead?"
The words burst out of their own accord – weak, pitiful, almost childish against the backdrop of what surrounded him.
He looked around. Slowly. Cautiously. And with each passing second the understanding became clearer, more and more difficult.
He was actually in space.
In the very present.
But where exactly?
The question spun around in his head like a stuck mechanism. It returned again and again, pressing on his temples, making his consciousness crack. Thoughts fused into one another, clinging, layering, accelerating. It seemed like his mind would simply give out if he continued.
The brain was overloaded.
The body, if it even existed, was not felt.
He was on the verge of fainting... if fainting was even possible in such a place.
But no matter how hard he tried to calm himself, nothing worked. Panic rose in waves, overwhelming him, knocking his breath out of him. Thoughts rushed in torrents, chaotic, harsh, and frightening.
And yet…
After a few moments, or eternities, he managed to pull himself together. Not because it became easier. But because there was no choice.
"Is this death?"
The first clear thought. Pure. Formulated as if it had been waiting its turn long before Zario even woke up.
Now he realized clearly: he was in the vastness of the universe. Not in a symbol. Not in a vision. Not in a dream. It felt too real. Too… final.
And yet there were an awful lot of questions.
Too much for one mind.
Too much for someone who was just about to die.
Where is he?
Why is he here?
And most importantly, if this is not the end… then is this the beginning?
Then he looked down, and only at that moment did he notice the boat.
Wooden. Old. Almost primitive.
He sat there, as if it had been meant to be that way from the start. The boat was so cramped that it held only him, with no extra space, no hint of movement. The boards beneath him looked dry and cracked, yet surprisingly solid, as if untouched by time or rot. Not a single nail creaked. Not a single crack revealed the void beneath.
He felt movement.
The boat was sailing somewhere.
But this sensation was strange – contradictory. It seemed as if she were moving infinitely slowly, as if frozen in the very essence of her journey... and at the same time, incredibly quickly, as if in a single instant she were covering distances that would take an eternity.
No waves.
No current.
No direction.
Only movement that exists by itself.
Zario looked up.
And for the first time since he woke up, he really saw the space around him.
The universe opened up before him in all its cruel beauty.
The distant stars shone brighter than anything he'd ever seen. They didn't just shine; they burned into his gaze, as if each one were a separate thought sparking in the void. The planets seemed alien, unreal: some were completely covered in endless oceans, smooth and dark, like mirrors without reflections; others emitted a strange scarlet light, unsettling, alive, as if something within them were watching.
There were also objects he couldn't name or shape: distorted silhouettes, layers of light, ruptures in space, something that existed beyond the usual understanding of matter.
And all this didn't scare me.
Not right away.
Zario realized what was happening quite quickly, surprisingly quickly. Thoughts like "How am I even breathing here?" or "How did I even get on this boat?" didn't even have time to take root. He dismissed them without regret, almost automatically. Because he knew there were no answers to these questions. At least, none he could accept.
He collected his thoughts deeply, more out of habit than necessity.
And he tried to get up.
But something went wrong.
He felt no movement. No muscles. No tension. Not even the resistance of space. His body… didn't respond. No, that wasn't even the point.
He couldn't feel his body.
Not numbness.
Not a weakness.
But a complete absence.
As if he didn't exist at all.
There was no weight. There was no position. There were no boundaries. There was consciousness, but no body.
"What the? How is this even possible?"
Thoughts flooded his head again, demanding explanations, demanding logic, demanding some kind of order. But instead of answers, something far stranger emerged, raising even more questions.
Right in front of him, without a flash, without a sound, without any warning, a piece of paper appeared.
The most ordinary in appearance.
White. Clean. Without a single inscription.
Except for one detail.
It levitated.
The Paper didn't sway, didn't spin, didn't quiver. It simply was there – motionless, perfectly level, suspended in space directly in front of Zario, as if waiting for attention.
The universe around them continued to exist. The boat continued its impossible movement.
And the paper was waiting, of course.
And at that moment Zario realized:
Whatever it was, it wasn't a coincidence. Then, a few moments later, symbols began to appear on the sheet.
At first, they seemed completely unknown– broken lines, impossible shapes, symbols that didn't belong to any known alphabet. His gaze slid over them, unfocused, as if his mind refused to accept them. But this sensation lasted only a moment.
Almost immediately the symbols became clear.
Not through translation.
Not through logic.
But directly, as if the meaning was fused into his consciousness.
Zario couldn't understand where this feeling of recognition came from. It wasn't natural, but it didn't feel forced either. It was as if these words had always been familiar to him, but hadn't taken shape until now.
He concentrated silently and began to read.
The symbols appearing on the sheet were incredibly beautiful. They exuded a sense of austerity and grandeur, as if each sign were drawn not by hand, but by the very principle of existence. As if some deity, or something higher than any god, had carefully and unerringly inscribed them into reality.
And now, finally, they made sense.
A meaning that gave Zario a strange feeling that everything that had happened up to this point had a purpose.
[ «Landscape of Eternal Nightmare» is looking at you! ]
[ «Landscape of Eternal Nightmare» questions your entity!]
He didn't understand anything.
And that was okay.
There was no threat or greeting in these lines. No logic or explanation. They simply stated a fact, cold and absolute, like a law of nature.
But the paper did not stop.
[ The Painting – "Anomalies of the Day of Apocalypse" has noticed your presence! ]
[ The Painting – «Strange Oddities of the "Landscape"» responds to your presence! ]
[ The Painting – «Strange Oddities of the "Landscape"» considers you as an 'strange' entity! ]
[ The Painting – "Anomalies of the Day of Apocalypse" is interested in your past! ]
[ The Painting – "Anomalies of the Day of Apocalypse" accepts your entity! ]
[ The Painting – "Strange Oddities of the "Landscape"" accepts your entity! ]
[ The Painting – «Anomalies of the Day of Apocalypse» selects you as a candidate for the title: "Bearer of the Apocalyps" ]
After these words the symbols stopped.
The sheet froze, as if putting a period.
Zario continued to merely observe. His consciousness seemed frozen, caught between an attempt to understand and a complete refusal to comprehend. He was so incredulous at what was happening that his own incredibly sharp and tenacious mind forcibly silenced the flow of thoughts, as if protecting itself from overload.
There were no thoughts.
There was no panic.
There wasn't even any fear.
But he could read. Perfectly.
A moment later, all the text was erased, vanishing as silently as it had appeared. The page was blank again, but only for a split second.
New lines began to appear.
[The selection of "World" for an unknown entity begins.]
This phrase struck a strange chill in him.
Everything happened quickly after that. Too quickly.
[ The Painting «Winter of the World of Irheira» refuses to accept the entity! ]
[ The Painting «Heavenly Islands» refuses to accept the entity! ]
Refusals.
Clear. No hesitation. No explanations.
And then…
[ The Painting «Bloodlands of Chaos» wants to get this entity! ]
[ The Painting «Infinite Suffering of the World of Mirettus» wants to get this entity! ]
[ The Painting «Hellish Loneliness» wants to get this entity! ]
At that moment, a lot became… clear.
Not completely. But enough.
Worlds whose essence was bright, harmonious, and orderly refused.
Worlds woven from pain, chaos, loneliness and destruction showed interest.
They wanted him.
Not because he was special.
But because he fit.
This realization came without emotion. Without surprise. Without protest. Like a simple, obvious truth.
And in this simplicity there was something frightening hidden.
Because if the choice was so clear...
This means that the entity of Zario was observed by them too well.