Scene 124 — "When the Battle Was Already Over"
Silence.
The underground kingdom stood motionless.
The gate was gone.
The creature was gone.
Only empty space remained where an ancient threshold had once existed.
The Traveler stared at it.
Breathing hard.
The black flame had vanished.
Yet the cold remained.
Deep within his blood.
Deep within his bones.
A lingering reminder that something had happened.
Something his body was never meant to endure.
The distant footstep echoed again.
Heavy.
Ancient.
Far below.
The hidden world trembled faintly.
The Traveler tried to focus.
Tried to understand.
The effort hurt.
Pain spread through his chest.
Sharp.
Sudden.
His breathing faltered.
A cough escaped him.
Blood splashed across the silver flowers.
The bright petals darkened.
The Traveler lowered his gaze.
Another cough followed.
More blood.
This time much more.
His vision blurred.
The crystal forests became indistinct shapes.
The glowing rivers stretched into silver streaks.
The hidden world seemed farther away than before.
The footstep echoed again.
Closer.
The Traveler attempted to take a step.
His legs failed immediately.
He dropped to one knee.
The impact scattered silver petals.
Blood dripped from his mouth.
The wound in his chest burned.
The cold inside his blood deepened.
Everything felt heavy.
Too heavy.
The battle was already over.
Yet his body continued losing.
Another cough.
More blood.
The flowers around him bowed gently.
As though responding to something.
Or perhaps saying farewell.
The Traveler's hand touched the ground.
His fingers trembled.
The strength that had carried him through the forgotten village.
Through the Hunter.
Through the mountain.
Through the serpent.
Through the creature beyond the gate.
Was finally disappearing.
The footstep sounded again.
The entire hidden world shuddered.
Closer.
Much closer.
Yet strangely—
the Traveler no longer felt alarmed.
Only exhaustion.
His eyelids became heavy.
The silver flowers swayed around him.
The rivers whispered softly through the darkness.
Far above, unseen beyond countless layers of stone, the world continued turning.
Unaware.
The Traveler looked once more toward the place where the gate had stood.
Toward the emptiness.
Toward the questions that remained unanswered.
Then his vision darkened.
Slowly.
Gently.
Like evening descending across a forgotten landscape.
The last thing he heard was another distant footstep.
The last thing he felt was the cold spreading through his blood.
Then—
nothing.
The Traveler collapsed among the silver flowers.
Motionless.
Silent.
Unconscious.
The underground kingdom became still.
Hours passed.
Then days.
The glowing rivers continued flowing.
The crystal forests continued swaying.
The silver flowers continued blooming.
Two full days drifted by beneath the mountain.
The Traveler never moved.
Never woke.
Never opened his eyes.
Yet the hidden world watched.
Waited.
Listened.
And on the second day—
another presence entered the silver fields.
Human.
Young.
Curious.
Unaware that the impossible journey of the white-haired traveler had not ended.
It was only beginning again.