A sound.
Distant and faint, like an echo coming from somewhere far away.
Something without shape.
Without origin.
And yet, it lingered.
Then came the light.
Soft. Too soft.
It didn't blind him. It embraced him, like a memory or something that was never meant to last.
Ryuji slowly opened his eyes.
His vision wavered, blurred at the edges as if reality itself hadn't fully decided to exist yet. His breathing was uneven and shallow, but he could see.
In front of him stood rows of wooden pillars, worn down and marked by countless strikes. Every dent told a story. Every crack held a memory.
The smell of dry sand reached him, carried by a gentle breeze that brushed against his skin.
Almost comforting.
"...huh..."
The sound that escaped him barely qualified as a word.
More like a fragment of awareness.
He looked down at his hands.
Whole.
Uninjured.
No blood. No trembling.
Yet his body felt strangely light, as if something essential had been stripped away.
"R..."
A voice.
Faint.
"Ryu..."
Closer.
"Ryuji!"
A sharp jolt ran through him.
"Hey! Ryuji! Can you hear me?!"
His vision snapped into focus.
The world settled.
And he saw him.
Soren stood right in front of him, arms crossed and wearing the mocking grin Ryuji knew all too well.
"You've been spacing out a lot lately."
Another voice joined in.
"Not wrong."
A girl lay nearby with her arms behind her head.
"He's been acting weird. I bet he's not even sleeping."
A third voice answered, calm and detached.
"Maybe. He did get beaten by Soren last week."
A small laugh followed.
Light.
Not cruel.
But real.
"Guess it's still bothering him."
Ryuji said nothing.
His eyes moved from one face to another, studying every expression and every detail.
Everything felt too real.
Too precise.
Then came the sound of footsteps.
Slow.
Steady.
A tall older man approached. His gaze was gentle and his presence carried a rare kind of stability.
"Enough."
His voice settled the air instantly.
"Don't stand apart. Training is about to begin."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
Everything was normal.
Too normal.
Something inside Ryuji cracked.
"...no..."
A whisper.
"...this..."
He looked around again and again, searching desperately for something out of place.
Anything.
But there was nothing.
"...I know this..."
The memory wasn't broken or distorted.
It was pure.
Intact.
A moment from before everything.
Before the betrayal.
Before the blood.
Before the world crushed him.
His lips trembled.
A tear rolled down his cheek.
"...my friends..."
His voice broke.
And with it, the world shattered.
The surroundings cracked apart as the distant sound returned, violent and overwhelming. The light vanished, replaced by dust, blood and pain.
Unavoidable pain.
Ryuji opened his eyes again.
This time for real.
His vision was blurred but steady. Every breath felt like a struggle as he looked around the ruined chamber.
The walls were cracked.
The floor shattered.
Debris covered everything.
Then he turned his head slightly and understood.
His arm was gone.
Torn off cleanly, as if it had simply been erased from existence.
Blood still poured from the wound, hot and relentless.
"...ah..."
The breath that escaped him carried no emotion.
Only recognition.
He tried to move, but his legs gave no response. There was no sensation at all, as though they no longer belonged to him.
His body weakened and dropped to one knee.
Broken.
Incomplete.
Across from him stood Marcellus.
Calm.
His sword was already sheathed, as though the battle had ended long ago.
His gaze remained fixed on Ryuji.
Observing.
Cold, but attentive.
Like a man studying something he didn't fully understand.
Silence pressed down on the room.
Then came a faint cough.
Ryuji was still alive.
Marcellus narrowed his eyes.
The dust settled slowly, as if even time itself hesitated.
What he saw stopped him.
Ryuji remained standing.
Or rather, somehow refused to fall.
His body was in ruins. Blood covered his clothes, his left arm was gone and his lips were dry and cracked.
Yet he remained there.
Still.
His right eye locked onto Marcellus.
Burning.
Alive.
"...what is he, immortal or something..."
The murmur escaped almost involuntarily.
Then a smile appeared.
Slow.
Genuine.
"...interesting."
After years in this position, through countless fights and countless deaths, Marcellus had seen them all.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Broken men, rebels and warriors stronger, faster and more talented than the one standing before him.
Every single one of them had fallen.
But this was different.
Ryuji slowly opened his mouth.
Every word cost him.
"...it's funny..."
A cough interrupted him.
Blood stained his lips again.
"...to think..."
His breath faltered.
"...that you might be..."
He lifted his head slightly.
His eyes were shaking.
Not from fear.
"...the most honest person I've met here."
Silence.
Marcellus didn't respond.
"...thanks."
The word sounded strangely sincere.
"...but..."
His voice cracked.
"...I've been losing my whole life."
His fingers trembled weakly.
"...and this time..."
Something changed.
His gaze ignited with a fierce determination.
"...that's not happening."
Marcellus watched.
Then his eyes widened.
Only for a moment.
But it was real.
The core.
Red.
Unstable.
Pulsing inside Ryuji's hand like a foreign heart.
"...wait—"
Marcellus moved instantly.
No hesitation.
"SHIT."
He lunged forward with brutal speed.
Across from him, Ryuji smiled.
Tired.
Almost peaceful.
Like a man who had already crossed the point of no return.
"...too late..."
His trembling hand tightened around the core.
Then, without hesitation, he swallowed it.
Time froze.
For a single silent moment.
Then everything changed.
His body tensed violently as his muscles convulsed. His breath stopped and his eyes widened while unbearable heat spread through his veins, his bones and every remaining part of his shattered body.
A scream rose inside him but never escaped.
Trapped.
Broken.
His body trembled.
Then shook.
Then reached its limit.
Something refused to die.
And that something—
Was him.