Richard couldn't breathe properly.
Not because the pressure was crushing him
But because his thoughts wouldn't slow down.
Failure.
The word didn't echo loudly.
It settled.
Heavy.
Practical.
Like a label placed on a file.
Failure.
His knees were on the ground, palms pressed into the grass. He could feel the texture of it. Cool. Slightly damp. Real.
This isn't a dream.
That realization scared him more than the statue.
When the voice said, "Sever his memories," something inside him didn't react with anger.
It reacted with panic.
Not heroic panic.
Not dramatic.
But small, desperate panic.
My memories.
His mind immediately clung to fragments.
His mother in the kitchen.
Nick knocking on his door.
Emily giving him books.
The feeling of sunlight during his first walk after years inside.
They weren't perfect memories.
Some were painful.
Some were embarrassing.
Some filled him with shame.
But they were his.
If those disappear
'Who am I?'
That question hit harder than the pressure forcing him down.
Because deep inside, he had already struggled with identity.
He had already doubted himself.
Already wondered if his awakening was just coping.
Already feared he was behind everyone else.
And now
A godlike statue was calmly confirming it.
Failure.
It almost felt… familiar.
The same quiet judgment he imagined from people.
From society.
From himself.
He felt something strange then.
Not rage.
Not rebellion.
Resignation.
A tired thought slipped through him:
Maybe they're right.
Maybe he is incomplete.
Maybe he doesn't belong here.
Maybe this is a mistake.
His breathing trembled.
He didn't try to resist the pressure anymore.
He didn't shout.
He didn't beg.
Because a part of him had always believed
If something powerful judges you,
You probably deserve it.
That thought scared him.
Because it wasn't coming from the statue.
It was coming from him.
....
The silence stretched.
Then—
The statue's golden glow dimmed.
A deep blue aura began to spread from its body instead.
Not warm.
Not holy.
Cold.
Dense.
The air shifted.
Before anyone could react—
Two figures appeared.
Not descending from the sky.
Not stepping through a portal.
They were simply there.
One moment empty space.
The next—presence.
Richard barely had time to register movement.
A sharp distortion sliced through the air.
Behind him—
The three envoys froze.
For a split second, confusion flickered across their faces.
Then—
It ended.
Their heads separated cleanly from their bodies.
No dramatic explosion.
No prolonged struggle.
Just sudden, horrifying finality.
Their bodies collapsed soundlessly.
But what terrified Richard more—
Was what followed.
A faint shimmer rose from the fallen corpses.
Their souls.
Visible for only a breath—
Before being crushed.
Compressed.
Erased.
Like fragile glass between invisible fingers.
Richard's mind went blank.
Not from pressure.
From shock.
This wasn't ritual.
This wasn't evaluation.
This was execution.
His body trembled violently.
Not out of weakness.
But out of raw biological fear.
He wanted to speak.
To ask why.
To scream.
But nothing came out.
The statue's voice echoed again, calm as ever.
"Crush the vessel."
A small pause.
"Cast the soul into the cycle."
Richard's thoughts fragmented.
'Vessel?'
'Cycle?'
This is death.
This is real death.
One of the newly arrived figures moved.
No anger.
No effort.
A hand lifted slightly.
Richard felt it before it happened—
Pressure from inside.
Not outside.
Inside.
His bones began to fracture inward.
He didn't feel cinematic pain.
He felt overwhelming compression.
Like his body was being folded into something smaller than it was meant to be.
His vision blurred instantly.
There was no time to scream.
No heroic last words.
Just one instinctive thought—
I don't want to disappear.
Another figure extended their hand.
A circular tear opened in space beside them.
Not bright.
Not dramatic.
Dark.
Spinning slowly.
Pulling.
Richard felt something tear free from him.
Light.
Weightless.
Detached.
He looked down—
And saw his own body collapse like a broken shell.
Then he was no longer looking through eyes.
He was awareness.
Falling.
Pulled toward the dark portal.
No body.
No breath.
No heartbeat.
Only consciousness and fear.
As he crossed the threshold—
The last thing he felt wasn't anger.
It wasn't revenge.
It was confusion.
'Was I ever whole to begin with?'
And then—
Darkness swallowed him.
....
The void grew still again.
The four bodies had already dissolved into dust, their souls erased without residue.
Only the statue remained.
Blue aura fading slowly around it.
One of the newly arrived figures stepped forward slightly. His voice was cold, controlled.
"Sovereign… why were those three eliminated?"
There was no accusation in his tone.
Only calculation.
The statue did not look at him immediately.
Its massive golden eyes remained fixed ahead.
"They were spies."
Calm. Certain.
No explanation beyond that.
The answer felt final.
The cold-voiced figure did not react.
But beside him, the second figure tilted their head slightly.
Their presence felt lighter.
Almost playful.
"Sovereign," the second one asked, voice strangely childlike, almost curious,
"Why did you not erase his memories?"
A pause.
"And why was his soul not crushed?"
A soft laugh followed.
"Hihihihi…"
It echoed unnaturally in the empty void.
Not loud.
But wrong.
Like something that did not understand the weight of death.
The floating island seemed quieter now.
Heavier.
The Sovereign remained silent.
No immediate answer.
Its enormous gaze slowly shifted toward the distant darkness beyond the island.
Not at the two figures.
Not at the corpses.
Farther.
Beyond the void itself.
As if looking through layers of existence.
Piercing something unseen.
For a moment—
The blue aura around the statue flickered faintly again.
Then faded.
The Sovereign finally spoke.
But not to them.
More like to itself.
"…The cycle will reveal."
Silence returned.
The childlike figure swayed slightly, hands behind their back.
"Hihihi… so you saw it too."
The cold-voiced one narrowed his eyes.
The Sovereign did not respond.
It simply continued staring into the distance.
As if watching something that had already begun.
Far away.
In the depths of the rebirth cycle—
A faint, unfamiliar pulse echoed once.
And disappeared.