Migration ( 74 )

It was a few hours past midnight, and the majority of the soldiers were fast asleep when Rowan jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. His head blasted with a splitting headache that threatened to burst his skull open.

Rowan sat upright, clutching his head, wondering what could have resulted in such an excruciating pain. Slowly, memories of the previous night began resurfacing in his mind—albeit hazy, yet enough to recall that he hadn't fallen asleep directly.

"I entered the crafting space to make weapons, but I don't recall leaving. This is strange," he muttered to himself.

He racked his brain, trying to recall any other events that occurred inside the crafting space. No matter how hard he tried, the last clear memory he had was storing the weapons he'd made and planning to leave, but he never actually left.

The memories of Benzene had mysteriously vanished, leaving Rowan completely clueless.