Chapter 2 The cost of death

Elias stood on the crumbling precipice, staring down into nothingness.

The abyss pulsed below him, an endless maw of pure oblivion, waiting.

The voice inside his head whispered:

"Jump."

His foot trembled on the edge.

He could feel the heat of his own blood, still pouring from his missing arm. The pain was unbearable, his vision flickering in and out of darkness. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stay conscious.

And yet—he was still afraid.

I don't want to die.

The thought crashed into him like a tidal wave, slamming into the deepest part of his mind, forcing him to take a step back. His breathing turned sharp, erratic.

"I don't want to die," he gasped, voice raw. "Not again… I can't…"

His chest tightened as panic clawed its way up his throat.

He was weak. He was bleeding. If he did nothing, he would die here anyway.

But this—this was different.

Dying before had been a mistake. Something he couldn't prevent.

But this time—this time he had a choice.

He could feel it. That thing inside him, the presence lurking in his mind, was waiting.

It wanted him to step forward.

It wanted him to fall.

His fingers curled into a trembling fist.

"I don't want to…" His voice cracked. "I don't want to go…"

Tears blurred his vision. He gritted his teeth, trying to fight the burning in his throat.

"Jump."

A violent shudder wracked his body.

Why? Why was he hesitating?!

Why couldn't he just do it?

He was going to die anyway—why not end it on his terms? Why not embrace it?

Because it was unnatural.

Because every part of his soul screamed that if he fell, something worse than death was waiting.

And then—

A voice. A real one.

"Hey! You—wait! Stop!"

Elias' body jolted.

His head snapped to the side.

There—standing in the ruins beyond the shattered street—were survivors.

Three figures—cloaked, armed, covered in dirt and blood—rushing toward him. Their eyes wide with shock, desperation.

"Wait! Don't—"

The tallest of them raised a hand, as if reaching for him. "Are you—are you human?"

Elias' breath caught in his throat.

A choked sound escaped him.

His body swayed. His vision blurred.

The stone beneath his feet crumbled.

And then—

He fell.

Silence.

Then—agony.

His body burned, as if his skin was being peeled away layer by layer. His breath vanished. His thoughts unraveled. His existence tore apart at the seams.

He opened his mouth to scream—but there was no mouth.

There was nothing.

And then—white.

Elias collapsed to his knees.

The endless white void stretched around him once more, infinite, empty, consuming. It was cold, but not in a way he could feel on his skin—it was the cold of absolute nothingness.

And standing before him—

The entity.

The being of shifting forms, neither human nor god, its features ever-changing. Sometimes an old man, sometimes a child, sometimes something far worse.

It gazed down at Elias. Silent. Waiting.

And Elias broke.

Tears streamed down his face as he clutched his head, sobbing, shaking, screaming.

"Why?!" he choked out. "What's happening?! Why is this happening to me?! Stop this! Please! Just—just stop!"

The entity did not speak. It simply watched.

Elias' breath hitched. His body trembled violently. His mind was shattering.

"Why…" he whispered. "Why did you bring me back? I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to die over and over. I didn't ask for any of this!"

The entity finally moved.

It stepped forward, tilting its head, regarding Elias with something unreadable.

And then it spoke.

"Do you even remember what life was before this?"

Elias stiffened.

His breathing was still erratic, his mind barely holding together, but the question cut through him like a blade.

"Of course I do," he whispered. "I was… I was just…"

His words faltered.

What was his life before this?

His mind conjured up fragments. Images of books, parchment, ink-stained hands. Of long nights spent alone, writing, studying. Of watching from the sidelines as others lived.

His heart pounded.

The entity continued, its voice both quiet and deafening.

"Life before this was nothing, Elias Valtor. It was ordinary. Empty. A slow decay disguised as existence."

Elias' stomach twisted. "That's not—"

"You threw your life away writing about heroes, studying those who stood in the light— but never stepping into it yourself."

The words were like a hammer against his chest.

His breathing quickened.

"Shut up."

"You wrote about warriors who fought against impossible odds—heroes who lived for mere seconds before being erased. And in the end, your own story was the same."

"Shut up!"

"Even when I gave you another chance, you died again within a day."

Elias' body shook.

Because it was true.

All of it.

His hands dug into his hair, his vision swimming.

"I don't—I don't understand. I don't understand what's happening to me!"

The entity leaned closer.

"Then understand this."

The void around them shifted. The endless white cracked, revealing flashes of the ruined world below.

"Every time you die… you will lose something."

Elias froze.

The entity's voice was calm, absolute.

"Your memories will be erased or rewritten."

A chill ran down his spine.

"W-what?"

"You will not know what has changed. A name. A face. A part of who you are."

The cracks in the void widened.

"And only you can stop the erasure."

Elias' lips parted.

He couldn't breathe.

The weight of the words settled into him, deeper than the pain, deeper than the fear.

His memories. His past. His identity.

He would lose them. One by one.

Until—

The entity reached toward him.

The void collapsed.

And Elias—

Fell.