The night was not loud.
Instead, it was suspiciously quiet, as if the world were intentionally holding its breath.
Then comes the silence of the night, proving to you that the noise is within… not around you.
They stood atop the muddy hill, gazing at the colossal shadow slowly cleaving the horizon. It was no ordinary shadow. It was a moving wall of darkness.
— "Are you ready to fight?"
He didn't answer immediately. He tightened his armor straps, felt for his sword, then his dagger, then the charm hidden near his chest.
— "Umm… my armor is ready, everything is here… I haven't forgotten a thing. But—"
The other interrupted him, without looking back:
— "I don't expect this to be enough. But we must stop it before it reaches the village."
The earth trembled. It wasn't an earthquake… it was a step.
The beast was taller than the nearby mountains, its body like a mobile fortress of living steel; every movement it made swallowed dozens of meters.
— "Do you think our weapons will even scratch its steel body?"
Silence.
Then he spoke with an eerie calmness:
— "I have a plan."
He finally turned to him.
— "Speak… what is it?"
He pointed toward the low plain, where the rain had turned the ground into a viscous swamp.
— "We will lure it to the mudlands. It will get stuck there with its heavy body… and then, we will find a solution."
He didn't seem convinced. But he didn't object. For when fear reaches its peak, it stops asking questions.
Suddenly…
The beast stopped. It did not move. It didn't take a single further step. Then, its massive head bowed slightly, as if it were listening.
Then came the voice. Not loud… but clear.
— "What if… I were listening and I understood?"
They froze. The voice wasn't angry. Nor was it mocking. It was… rational.
Silence fell upon them like a death sentence. Even the wind seemed to take a step back. At that moment, one of them felt something harsher than fear: pity… for himself.
Even if a human heals and forgets everything, that moment of self-pity remains. It stays etched in memory forever… like a scar that cannot be healed, its ugliness never surpassed.
The beast lifted its foot slowly. Not to destroy… but to step closer.
It wasn't just a step; it was an announcement. The muddy earth exploded, a wave of mire and rocks rising like an upturned sea. They lunged aside at the last second as the beast's foot sank into the swamp—half of it disappearing, the other half crushing everything around it.
— "Now!" the first one yelled.
They charged together. Two swords, charms, and every ounce of despair they possessed. The first strike hit the beast's body, emitting a hollow metallic clang. No wound. Not even a scratch.
— "Fall back!"
— "No, if it gets stuck further—"
He didn't finish. The night air tore apart. The beast's arm descended—not fast, but with crushing weight. He didn't see the blow. He only felt it. His body flew dozens of meters, slammed into the ground, and everything stopped except for the pain. He tried to rise… but his legs wouldn't respond. He lifted his head with difficulty. He saw his companion standing alone. His armor was split. His sword was broken. But… he did not flee.
— "Why?" the beast asked in a low voice.
— "Because…" the man smiled, blood trickling from his mouth. "Villages do not defend themselves."
He raised his broken sword and ran. It wasn't an attack. It was a choice. The body fell beneath the beast's foot. No screaming. No scattered blood. Only… silence.
In that moment, he understood. He understood that the plan wasn't to stop the beast. It was… to buy a single second.
He looked at the sky. Then he closed his eyes. Then came the silence of the night… proving to him that the noise was within, not around him.
The second foot came down. Darkness. No pain. No sound. Then… a sensation of falling. But without a body.
— "Is it over?" another voice came. Not the beast's voice.
— "No," the voice said. "You just… stepped out of the wrong page."
Light exploded. He opened his eyes. He was lying on white ground, under a purple sky with stars that moved with an illogical slowness. He raised his hand… and found it whole. A new body. A new breath.
But the scar… was there. Not on the body. But in the soul.
He stood up slowly, his heart beating with something he had never known before. Not fear. Not courage. But a single question:
"If this is a new world… then how much of a monster must I become, so that I do not die again without meaning?"