Zario froze.
Thoughts, previously flowing in a chaotic stream, began to collide with one another, like waves crashing on an invisible shore. His mind was literally boiling. Not from pain, but from overload. Too much. Too fast. Too… inhuman.
All this was pressing at once.
He tried to concentrate, but the harder he tried, the more his sense of control slipped away. It felt as if the very act of thinking was part of some kind of test. As if he was being judged not on his answer, but on the process of thinking itself.
"What the hell…" Zario breathed out mentally.
His mind swung between possibilities. Each of the worlds that had previously rejected him seemed to mock him with its unattainable "purity." And those that desired him, on the contrary, drew him to themselves – not with promises, but with recognition.
And it was at this moment, when he had almost accepted the idea that there might be no choice at all...
A sheet of paper appeared in front of him again.
It appeared suddenly, without flashes, without effects. Exactly where a second ago there was only the emptiness of space. White. Perfectly smooth. Floating in absolute silence.
And again, handwriting.
The same symbols, drawn with frighteningly beautiful precision. The lines were thin, alive, as if each letter were written not with ink, but with reality itself. They felt intentional. Willful. Aware.
Zario wasn't even surprised.
Somewhere deep inside he already knew: this was not the end.
The symbols began to appear, line by line.
[The Painting – "Hellish Loneliness" offers you a "Mysterious Role"!]
These words caused something inside me to tighten uncomfortably. Not fear – but a cold, sticky feeling of isolation. As if this world were whispering: you will be alone, but you will be yourself.
The next line appeared almost immediately.
[ Painting - "BloodLands of Chaos" offers you "The Secret of Chaos Calamities"! ]
The sensation here was different. Sharp. Aggressive. As if someone had roughly grabbed his consciousness and shaken it. There was no peace or promise in these words – only movement, destruction, and something unstoppable.
And finally…
[The painting - "The Endless Suffering of the World "Mirettus"" offers you "The Complete World of Suffering"!]
This line did not press.
It pulled.
Not as a threat. Not as an invitation. But as an inevitability. As if this world had known him for a long time, even before he himself understood who he was.
Zario slowly exhaled, if it could even be called an exhalation. His consciousness wavered.
Now everything has become much clearer.
It wasn't just a choice of peace. It was a choice of form of existence.
To be left alone and become something mysterious.
To plunge into chaos and become its mystery.
Or accept suffering not as punishment, but as a habitat.
"You're kidding me…" flashed through his head.
He didn't understand why him. He didn't understand who was behind this. And he certainly didn't know how it would end.
But one thing was crystal clear.
He's... interested.
Not fear. Not doubt. But pure, perverse interest.
Zario rubbed his temples – an old habit, even though he no longer had a body. His thoughts began to whirl again, colliding and breaking each other, as if he were trying to solve a problem that had no right answer.
"What a load of crap," he chuckled to himself. "Fine. If I'm going to choose, I'll do it for real."
And somewhere in the depths of this endless space, among silent stars and indifferent worlds, his decision began to take shape.
His attention was drawn to the first option.
Not because of words. Not because of promises. But because of the emptiness hidden between the lines.
"Mysterious Role".
This phrase didn't scream, didn't beckon, didn't pull forcefully – it was silent. And this silence contained far more meaning than all the other sentences combined.
Zario froze, allowing his thoughts to collect themselves for a brief moment. But within a second, he realized: if he continued to think, he would begin to doubt. And doubt was the last thing he needed right now.
He didn't want to analyze. He didn't want to weigh things. He didn't want to look for logic.
He just… chose.
Not with a gesture. Not with a word. Not even with a decision in the usual sense.
Zario simply thought about the world of "Hellish Loneliness." And nothing happened. No flash. No reaction. No response.
The emptiness remained the same.
"Seriously?" an irritated thought flashed through his mind.
Then he did it differently.
He stripped away all unnecessary details and focused not on the choice, but on the name itself. He repeated it mentally, allowing the words to expand within his mind, as if they were something more than just letters.
Hellish Loneliness.
And at that very moment, reality shook.
He felt something invisible grab him – gently but inexorably. The boat he was sitting in finally found direction. Its movement became clear, precise, and absolutely unambiguous.
There was no doubt now.
It was swimming.
Not jerks, not jolts – but one smooth, continuous glide, as if space itself was giving way to it. The space around it began to slowly distort, stretch, as if being sucked into a vortex.
Zario's consciousness gradually became clouded.
But before the darkness completely enveloped him, he managed to smile. Not calmly. Not relievedly. But somehow wildly.
The smile was wide, twisted, almost mad. There was no regret in it, only impatience.
Who will I become? What is this role? How far will it go?
His thoughts were jumbled, but the excitement of the unknown only grew. He was drawn forward, deeper, further, to where the anticipation would finally take shape.
And it was at that moment…
The role resonated.
Not by voice. Not in the image. But a realization that cut into the very essence of his existence.
[The "Mysterious Role" reveals itself! Your Role in the World is "Hellish Loneliness" - "Primordial Nightmare Villain - Zario"!]
Zario froze.
His name is there. Clear. Without a doubt. Next to the word "Villain."
And instead of shock, instead of denial, instead of questions… he felt something inside him fall into place. As if a puzzle he'd been putting together his whole life had finally come together into a coherent picture.
It made sense. Absolutely. Cruelly. Perfectly.
"So that's how it is..." flashed through his mind.
His arousal became almost physical. If he had a body, it would be shaking. If he had a heart, it would be pounding as if it were about to burst.
Primordial.
Nightmare.
Villain.
And when his eyes slowly began to close, they reflected not stars or worlds, but sparks. Pure, predatory, alive.
He didn't regret anything. Not his choice. Not his past. Not who he was. Because now he knew: he was where he was supposed to be.