what about your burden and pride?

She was in the canvas world once again, but this time with newfound power. As she walked through the void-like realm, she noticed something she hadn't before: the world wasn't as empty as she had thought. Scattered throughout the canvas world were countless enclosed spheres of pure darkness, hundreds upon hundreds of them.

She paused, realizing their significance.

These are probably the nightmares of everyone, she thought to herself.

Wait... if every victim's nightmare exists in the same canvas, does that mean we're all in each other's consciousness right now?

The realization struck her.

So it's a single canvas for all her victims, not one canvas for each victim. I suppose that makes sense.

As she walked toward one of the spheres of pure darkness, she thought to herself nervously:

I need to free Cyrus and Umeboshi first...

She clenched her fists, her resolve growing despite the unease bubbling within her.

They should be strong enough to deal with her...

As she continued walking, for some reason, she raised her head to look at the sky of the canvas world—if such a thing even existed in that strange realm. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw multiple knives descending rapidly toward her.

Instinctively, she raised her hand, and a giant shield manifested, protecting her from the onslaught. The knives clanged against it with a sharp, metallic echo.

Then, a voice filled with rage shattered the silence:

"You damn foolish bug! How dare you ruin my masterpiece of a canvas with your disgusting creation!"

The fiend spirit appeared suddenly in the air, hovering among the knives as if she had always been there, her presence radiating malevolence.

The fiend spirit descended swiftly, delivering a single devastating punch that shattered the shield. The force of the blow sent Viora tumbling several feet, rolling across the ground.

Dazed, she tried to regain her senses, only to see the woman above her, aiming to crush her with a vicious stomp. Acting on instinct, Viora rolled quickly to the right, narrowly avoiding the attack, and scrambled to her feet.

Before she could catch her breath, the spirit was already upon her. A powerful punch hurtled toward Viora, and she barely managed to block it, though the impact sent her flying and rolling into the distance.

Damn it! That woman won't even let me breathe! she thought in shock, struggling to steady herself.

As the fiend closed in on her, Viora's mind raced, processing her thoughts in the split seconds she had:

Wait—Mama Ipoh told me I have as much power as she does in her dimension. To beat her, it's not about who's the most powerful… it's about who's the most creative. And I've always been a creative person!

A smirk spread across her face as the fiend's fist came dangerously close to her. Suddenly, a sound echoed through the air—a distinct, thunderous sound.

The sound of a locomotive…

Turning her head to the right, time seemed to slow down. She saw it—a massive locomotive barreling toward them, its engine adorned with the head of a ferocious tiger.

The tiger's jaws opened wide, and with a deafening roar, it devoured the fiend mid-strike as the locomotive sped past with tremendous force, shaking the very canvas world around them.

Viora let out a triumphant laugh, her voice ringing through the surreal canvas world.

"I, Viora, who fights the forces of evil in this city and now fights for her true happiness, am invincible!" she declared boldly.

The locomotive dissolved into a flurry of radiant feathers, drifting through the air like a fleeting dream. From amidst the feathers emerged the beautiful yet terrifying woman with hollow eyes. Her face twisted with fury as she spoke in a venomous tone:

"I will kill you a thousand upon thousand times for your foolishness. This is my world… my canvas… my masterpiece!"

Raising her hand high, the fiend's voice deepened with rage, echoing with the weight of her wrath:

"How will your soul withstand the unrelenting hell of your own forgotten torment?"

Thousands of blades descended from the sky, filling the entire void above her. The overwhelming sight might have crushed anyone else's spirit, but Viora merely smirked.

"You're really not a creative person, are you?" she said, her tone laced with mockery.

She stretched her palm wide as if reaching for something unseen, and her voice turned almost playful.

"This isn't your world, nor your canvas, nor your masterpiece. All of it… is mine now. Your defeat…"

Her hand transformed into the multi-colored head of a purring cat, the surreal sight glowing with an otherworldly aura. The cat's head, as if feeding on her intent, grew rapidly until it towered thousands of feet high. It let out a guttural sound, as though preparing to vomit.

With a flick of her wrist, Viora aimed the massive feline head at the woman and her raining knives, finishing her sentence with a wide, confident smile:

"…is inevitable!"

The cat unleashed an explosion of radiant rainbow light, a torrent of multicolored brilliance that surged forward, obliterating the knives and engulfing the fiend in its unstoppable force. The impact sent the woman hurtling into the distance, a cascade of vibrant light consuming the canvas world.

From the explosion emerged a chaotic collage of rainbows, bizarre internet memes, and absurd sound effects that reverberated through the air. Viora stood still, watching the scene unfold, and let out a low whistle.

"Now this is what I call a masterpiece of a canvas," she said with a satisfied grin.

Viora's grin faded as a more serious thought crossed her mind.

Now this should buy me enough time to find Cyrus and Umeboshi… but how am I supposed to find them?

Her gaze shifted to the countless spheres of pure darkness scattered across the canvas world. Speaking in a low, almost defeated voice, she muttered:

"There are hundreds upon hundreds of them... I don't have time to search through them one by one."

A soft meow escaped from the cat that had replaced her hand, drawing Viora's attention. She brought it closer to her face as it continued purring.

"No, Mew-Mew… I don't need a cat right now," she muttered, frowning. "Cats aren't animals that find lost people... Wait!"

Her expression shifted to one of sudden realization and hope. "That's right! Animals that find lost people!"

She looked at the cat with wide eyes, a spark of determination igniting within her. Gently patting the feline on the head, she spoke with excitement. "Sorry, Mew-Mew, but I need you to be something else right now."

With a flourish of her hand, the cat transformed into a dog—loyal and eager, wagging its tail as it barked in anticipation. Viora patted the dog, her tone now filled with excitement.

"Alright, boy, bring me to Cyrus and Umeboshi!"

As if in response, a go-kart appeared out of thin air. Viora opened the driver's seat and hopped in, gesturing for the dog to guide her. The dog took the lead, bounding ahead as she drove after it, racing through the surreal canvas world in search of her two companions.

***

He was drowning in darkness—complete, suffocating darkness. He had fully succumbed to despair.

The memories he had fought so hard to forget surged back with relentless force, forcing him to relive his greatest sin over and over again, hundreds upon hundreds of times. Each repetition weighed heavier than the last, dragging him deeper into the void.

He was drowning—not in water, but in the crushing weight of his memories, the unbearable weight of his sins, the unrelenting weight of it all.

As he sank further into the darkness, only one thought surfaced amidst the torment. If this could even be called learning, it was this:

He didn't deserve to be happy. He never did. And he never would.

He should give up forever.

Amid the suffocating darkness, countless voices echoed, overlapping and weaving together in a chaotic, haunting symphony.

"I'm sorry, Cyrus. I would've loved to go to the ball with you… but this little walk was all I could give. Thanks to you, I was able to walk this final road with no hatred left in my heart."

Another voice pierced through, frantic and filled with unending sorrow.

"Please kill me again... please kill me again... don't leave me... I'm sorry! Please kill me again... please kill me again... don't leave me... I'm sorry!"

The words repeated in an endless, desperate chant, growing louder and more fragmented with each cycle.

"Please kill me again... please kill me again... don't leave me... I'm sorry! Please kill me again... please kill me again... don't leave me... I'm sorry!"

And then, as if driven by rage and despair, another voice tore through the void, raw and accusatory.

"You... WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! WHAT DID YOU DO?! CYRUS, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THEM?!"

Every voice that echoed through the void pierced his very being a thousandfold. Each word was a dagger, cutting deeper into the fragile remnants of his soul.

He felt it all—an overwhelming sadness that hollowed him out, an emptiness that consumed him, a despair so profound it threatened to break him entirely.

And guilt.

An unbearable, unrelenting guilt—of murder.

Amid the endless darkness, where he was drowning in despair, he found himself in the body of his younger self. Small and fragile, he curled into a ball, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees.

Rocking back and forth, he whispered to himself over and over, his voice trembling and raw:

"I'm tired... so tired... I don't deserve to live after what I've done. After what I couldn't do. I failed... and I hurt people over and over again... How could I ever forgive myself?"

Each word sank deeper into the void, swallowed by the oppressive silence, yet ringing louder in his own mind.

As he sank deeper into the ocean of darkness, waiting for it to swallow him whole, he felt something—no, someone—force their way into this desolate world. The presence was jarring, an intrusion so sudden it disrupted the cycle of torment he had succumbed to.

In an instant, the memories that had imprisoned him vanished, replaced by something new, something shared.

Both he and the intruder—whoever they were—were struck by the most terrible memories, the most painful sins they each wished to forget.

He saw it. A flood of vivid, heart-wrenching memories that weren't his own.

A young girl, left behind far too many times. Lied to about having a home, parents who cared, or a family that would embrace her with love and safety. A girl who had clung desperately to fleeting promises, only to watch the one person who loved her as a mother—a mother of blood—die before her eyes, robbed of the chance to see her grow.

The weight of it all—the betrayal, the longing, the loss—hit him like a tidal wave.

And then he realized.

These were not the memories of some random girl. They belonged to someone he knew, someone he had pushed aside, rejected, and failed repeatedly.

Viora.

"Cyrus! I'm here to get you out of here!"

Her voice broke through the silence, resolute and unwavering.

The ocean of darkness began to shift, the unrelenting waves pulling back to reveal a solid patch of land—a single island amidst the abyss. Around them, the black waves circled endlessly, forming a ring of turmoil surrounding their sanctuary.

This was Viora's memory. Her pain, her torment.

And yet, in that singular instant, she had seen his as well. Perhaps not all of it, but enough to know the depths of his guilt, despair, and sins.

He just lay there, unmoving, his eyes hollow and devoid of life.

Viora knelt beside him, her expression a mix of worry and determination. She gently placed her hand on his back, her voice steady and resolute as she said, "Come on. Let's get out of here. I don't know why, but something here is challenging my influence over the canvas!"

But his response came in a barely audible whisper, his voice fractured and lifeless:

"I'm tired... I don't want to continue any of this anymore..."

She stared at him in silence, her gaze heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, as if something sparked within her, she looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly.

When she finally spoke, her voice was resolute and tinged with admiration, though it trembled with the weight of her feelings:

"What are you talking about, silly?! The Cyrus I know wouldn't give up so easily! He would stubbornly tell me he could handle it all on his own, refuse any help from me, and still stick it out, no matter how bad things got. You're not someone who just gives up like this!"

Her blush deepened as her tone grew softer but no less determined.

"If… if I can get up from my nightmare, then you definitely can too, Cyrus!"

He remained still, his voice barely above a whisper but heavy with despair, each word carrying the crushing weight of his guilt.

"How am I supposed to forgive myself after everything I've done...?"

As his words lingered in the air, the waves of darkness that encircled the tiny island began to surge violently. The once-still ocean of shadows rose higher and higher, towering hundreds of feet above them.

The air felt suffocating as the immense walls of darkness loomed, threatening to crash down at any moment. The sheer force of the waves seemed as though it would obliterate them completely. Even though they didn't know if death was possible in the canvas world, the overwhelming danger was undeniable.

Viora's eyes widened as she watched the chaos unfold, her mind racing for a way to stop it.

Without hesitation, Viora grabbed Cyrus by the shirt, pulling him up to face her. Her gaze burned with intensity, and for a moment, she looked far more mature than her usual self.

Her voice came out sharp, almost angry, as she spoke:

"Stop your crap, Cyrus! Hundreds of people are trapped by that spirit's ability, and they will all die if we don't do something about it! Umeboshi is trapped too! And you—" She leaned closer, her grip tightening. "You're the strongest of the three of us. We need you to defeat her once we escape this nightmare!"

Cyrus lowered his head, his hollow eyes fixed on the ground. The weight of his emotions—guilt, despair, emptiness—seemed to crush him further with every passing moment.

"I can't…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I can't do that anymore."

The waves of darkness around them roared louder, their towering presence reflecting the storm inside his soul. It was as if his despair fed the chaos, threatening to engulf them both.

Viora clenched her fists, her teeth gritting in frustration. She could feel the pull of his pain, but she also knew that if she gave in to it, they would both be lost.

Viora took a long, steadying breath, her eyes burning with determination. Then, in a low but firm voice, she spoke, each word cutting through the silence like a blade:

"What about your burden and your pride?"

For a moment, the waves seemed to hesitate, as though they, too, were caught off guard by her words. The relentless force of the darkness surrounding them paused, as if giving space for those words to sink in.

Cyrus's hollow eyes widened, a flicker of recognition flashing across his face. He knew that sentence all too well—it was something he'd buried deep inside him for so long. The weight of it, the responsibility of it, had always been there, silently haunting him.

Viora's voice grew louder, filled with unshakable resolve as she faced him.

"What about your burden and pride as a shaman?!" she demanded, her words reverberating with a newfound strength.

The waves trembled at her declaration, the relentless darkness swirling around them with renewed fury. It seemed as though the very fabric of this nightmare world recoiled from her words, as if it could feel the weight they carried. The dark sea churned, its intensity rising, as if it were waiting to devour them both for daring to confront the truth.

Cyrus stood frozen, the question echoing in his mind. His inner struggle flared anew, the words she had spoken pushing him to face what he had long avoided: his responsibility as a shaman.

Cyrus's voice was barely more than a whisper, but it carried the weight of years of pain. His expression remained hollow, his gaze distant, as if the darkness around them mirrored the abyss inside him.

"And what do you know about… about that burden and pride?" he asked, his words tinged with bitterness.

The waves continued to rage, as if in response to his doubt, but his voice had carried a weight of its own—one that seemed to pierce through the chaos surrounding them. His eyes flickered with something darker, as if the question itself had triggered a new wave of torment within him.

Viora, undeterred, met his gaze with unwavering determination.

Viora's voice softened, but the conviction never left her words. Her eyes, filled with understanding, gazed deeply into Cyrus's, hoping to break through the wall of darkness surrounding him.

"You're right, I know nothing about it," she admitted, her voice steady. "Since I've never been a shaman, I couldn't possibly understand the suffering that burden and pride has caused you… or what it feels like. Even after Umeboshi told me that the reason you didn't want me to come was because of those words, I still couldn't fully grasp it. I heard those same principles from my dearest mother, but I still couldn't understand, since I wasn't a shaman…"

Her expression hardened, but the warmth in her tone remained.

"But… I know one thing. People who can see spirits, people like us, we know how important happiness is. We see how many souls, wronged and suffering all their lives, look so hollow after death. They refuse to move on because they're chained to their pain… We know more than anyone why we should strive for a life full of happiness, with no regrets, so we can be at peace when the time comes… So, even though I don't know what that burden and pride is about… I know that you and I… we both strive for it every day. We strive not only for happiness for ourselves, but for others as well."

The waves, which had been rising and churning violently, seemed to falter. They paused, as though suspended in time. But they only had seconds before the wave came crashing down, a final moment of uncertainty hanging in the air.

Then, in the face of the impending doom, Cyrus spoke—his voice low, heavy with despair, but not without a flicker of something else beneath the surface:

"I don't know if I can forgive myself…"

She smiled gently.

"Then live. Continue to live for many years to come. Strive for happiness. And at the end of the road, or maybe sometime along it, look back at your journey and think about whether you've lived a happy life and if you can forgive yourself or not."

Still clinging to his shirt, as the wave was moments away from crushing them, he let out a smirk, tears running down his face. He grabbed her hand as she clung to his shirt.

"…No matter what, no matter what I told you, you always stubbornly do the opposite of what I told you, don't you, partner?"

A light shone in her eyes as she smirked back.

"That's exactly how I've grown stronger till now!"

Then, as the wave was mere centimeters from crashing down on them, a wave of unstoppable energy flowed from them, shattering the world of darkness in an instant. Cyrus returned to his teenage body, wiping the tears from his face, his smirk still present. They were back in the canvas world.

The spirit, which had been tracking Viora throughout the canvas world, saw the orb of darkness she had trapped Cyrus in shatter in an instant. The shards of that world floated in the air. The nightmare world she had trapped Cyrus in was destroyed completely. In a voice full of fury, the spirit cried out:

"HOW!?"

As they smirked and walked toward the spirit filled with rage, Viora said with a smirk,

"You ask us how our souls will withstand the unrelenting hell of our own forgotten torment... right? You've asked that stupid question so many times, but we never had an answer for you. But now, we do..."

Both he and Viora spoke in unison, their voices filled with unwavering resolve:

"We will live our lives… and be happy no matter what!!"

chapter fifty-six end