Darkness again.
Ren lay unconscious for two days.
His body was stable, but the mana in his bloodstream burned like wildfire—unstable, volatile, crawling under his skin as if trying to burst free. The healers couldn't approach him without their hands shaking. Yui never left his side.
On the second night, his eyes snapped open.
He gasped.
And then he remembered.
All of it.
The dungeon.
The voices.
The endless screaming in the dark. The monster made of chains and bones. The way he had fed to survive. The way he had screamed to stay human.
He saw the walls of that forgotten realm—the shifting paths, the silent watchers, the masked figure that called itself his teacher, his tormentor. He remembered the taste of void energy, bitter and thick on his tongue. He remembered begging himself not to forget who he was.
He saw the moment he broke. The moment he became less human.
Ren sat upright in bed, panting.
Yui stirred beside him. "Onii-chan?"
His head ached. His chest burned. He clutched his temples as images surged—flash after flash after flash—monsters kneeling, voices whispering, "Heir of the Void."
Blood trickled from his nose.
Kaede rushed into the room. "He's awake—Ren!"
He looked up at her, eyes hollow.
"I remember everything," he said.
She froze.
"I wasn't just trapped," he continued, voice trembling. "I was shaped. Molded by something ancient. It didn't want me to survive—it wanted me to replace it."
Kaede moved to steady him. "You're safe now."
"No," Ren said, standing. His legs wobbled. "I was never safe. None of us are. That thing… it's still watching. It's still waiting."
"What thing?" Kaede asked.
He turned his eyes to her—black around the edges, red like fire. "The one inside the dungeon. The one that gave me this mark. It didn't choose me because I was weak. It chose me because I could endure what no one else could."
He turned to the window.
"It's calling me back."
Kaede's voice broke. "And will you go?"
Ren didn't answer.
But deep in his bones, he knew the truth.
This was only the beginning.