When I passed the giant, water-filled hole and climbed the hill beyond it, I realized something strange.
The puddles were gone.
No shallow basins or mirrored surfaces glistened in the dark. There was only grass. It was lush, damp, and alive. It was thriving. A soft carpet sat under the faint light. It shimmered with dew, untouched by what had happened behind me.
The land beyond the hill was not dry. It felt untouched. It was untouched, but it was not safe.
Still, the next phase of my plan was simple.
I had to destroy them to make a path forward.
But the moment I did, it would trigger a chain reaction. This would not involve tens or a few hundred.
Almost a thousand would come.
They would come.
And they would not stop.
Even if I reached the bottom of the hole and made it through unscathed, they would eventually catch up. The question was not if, but how fast.
I wondered if they would turn to diamond before that. That was the logic I had originally.
But I soon decided otherwise.
This was a matter of scale. Scale changed everything.
With that many bodies pressing in, more with every passing second, they would push each other down like debris in a flood.
Crystallization would still occur. However, the sheer pressure of their descent would force more of them downward, moving faster than before. It would be a living avalanche of diamondized corpses.
So, I needed something stronger than distance. I needed something absolute.
I needed a barrier.
I needed a cover that could take everything they could throw at me.
And that is what I built.
I lured them. I moved to the farthest edge of the hole and deliberately provoked the Vowalkers. I woke them up. I agitated the entire swarm.
If enough of them turned into diamond in one place, their bodies would pile and stack. They would eventually form something unbreakable.
It would be a natural barricade. It was self-assembled and unthinking. It was inescapable.
And it worked.
***
Now, buried within the pit, I had cover. This was real cover. It was the kind no weapon could pierce and no monster could claw through. It was a jagged, uneven structure of Vowalker corpses turned to diamond mid-motion.
They had come down in waves, faster than I had ever seen. They did not move from hunger or rage, but from momentum. They trampled each other in mindless pursuit, becoming the very barrier they could no longer bypass.
The wall held. It was denser than anything man-made. Its strength was not engineered. It was inevitable.
And with that, half the world had been erased.
Half of this nightmare was now nothing but crystal remains and silence.
***
It must be around 2 a.m.
I exhaled slowly and lowered my hand into the river again.
The water was colder.
It was also deeper.
I first noticed it while collecting water for the third time. Each hour, the river sank more.
At first, I tried to rationalize it. It could be a natural phenomenon, perhaps limestone erosion beneath the surface. Water eats away at soft stone and carves a deeper path over time.
But limestone does not dissolve this fast. It does not move by meters or by hours.
This river was sinking at an alarming rate.
Something was changing here. It was happening fast.
***
Eventually, the sky began to shift. Pale light touched the horizon.
It was sunrise.
Judging by the shade of soft gold bleeding into gray, it had to be around 5:30 a.m.
This is the most common time for the sun to rise. Even here, in this distorted place, patterns held.
I had spent the entire night in mental warfare. This was not against monsters, but against the world itself. I fought against what it wanted me to become.
I kept my thoughts sharp. They were clean. My sense of self remained intact.
Physically, my body had rested. It was enough for basic function to return. I was not numb anymore.
The cold of the water had faded from my skin, leaving soreness in its place.
I was not exhausted now. I was just hurt.
My muscles had unclenched. My feet had stopped bleeding, but the pain lingered. It throbbed like a warning not to forget.
I drank again for the fifth time.
***
I dipped my hand in the river once more.
This time, I could not reach the bottom.
It was time.
I stood.
There was no more room for hesitation. The world was moving beneath me, and I had to move with it.
I crouched, scooping up a handful of dirt from the edge and placing it carefully beside the river.
Then I reached down.
One by one, I threw the four remaining organs in a line. They went straight ahead, across the deepening water.
Three had already been used to obliterate half this world.
Now, it was time for the last four to claim the rest.
There were seven organs in total.
I stepped back several paces. I anticipated an explosion or a rupture.
I should stop trying to predict in advance. Nothing happened.
I was confused. Something was off.
I wondered if all the organs just happened to land in safe zones.
Statistically, the odds were absurd. The terrain was not flat. The throw was not precise. The entire path behind me had twisted and curved in many ways.
And on top of that, all four landed cleanly.
This was not luck.
And going back down into that hell to retrieve more was out of the question.
Small pebbles would not work. I had already tried that.
So, I moved to Plan B.
I had arranged the organs in a line for a reason. I had accounted for this possibility.
If the organs landed in safe spots, then those spots would become my path.
They would have to.
Still, I wondered how deep the river had become.
***
I crouched again. This time I drew water into my cupped hands and poured it over the patch of dirt I had set aside.
I did it again. Then I did it once more.
Until the soil darkened, softened, and clumped.
I coated the soles of my feet with it, layering mud to buffer the raw skin from further tearing.
Then I tore two strips from my already tattered clothing and bound them tightly around each foot.
It was not perfect, but it was better than nothing.
There was not much room to build momentum here. The crater edge was narrow, and my legs were far from recovered.
But the water ahead was still. That usually meant bacteria and stagnation. Swimming across it would be dangerous, but I had to.
If the river was deepening like this, then something down there was waiting.
It was something I was not supposed to touch, but I had to.
***
I took a few steps back. I reached the highest edge of the crater I could stand on.
My legs tensed, and the mud weighed me down. The pain in my feet flared again.
But I ran.
I ran as fast as I could.
And as I ran, a trail of dirt was left behind.
I leapt.
The jump was pitiful. It was three meters at most. I was held back by injuries, by lack of space, and by gravity.
But it was enough to reach the edge of the water.
The rest, I swam.
My leg could not feel the surface now.
I went seven more meters across the cold silence of the river, toward the line of organs that might be my salvation.
Or my end.
𓁹𓁹
As soon as Ayanokouji Kiyotaka crossed the river and reached the organs, he pulled himself up with effort. His hands were slick with water and mud. Then the world shifted.
The once-decayed trees burst into life. Their bark stretched with groans as new branches snapped outward and bloomed with thick, dark green leaves. In seconds, they grew to twice their size.
Twenty meters ahead, the land rippled. A hill erupted from the earth. It climbed thirty meters before leveling into a forest.
The ground beneath his feet trembled.
But that was only the beginning.
Grass sprouted rapidly. It was thick, vibrant, and wild. It shot up and grew until it was nearly a meter high.
The soil became damp, soggy, and hostile. Water no longer trickled as a stream. It surged. The river swelled, rising up the banks and rejecting its own size.
The floodwater split, carving channels through the ground as it chased after Ayanokouji.
He was already running and calculating. Grass swayed violently around him. He could hear the rustling.
Countless blades of grass shifted. Figures were sprinting beneath the canopy. These were the Vowalkers. They were no longer hidden. They were no longer passive. Now, this forest was theirs.
He sprinted toward the nearest tree, leaping up and climbing its trunk. As he reached the first thick branch, he looked down.
Dozens of figures emerged from the grass. They were gaunt and humanoid, yet twisted in design. The Vowalkers surrounded the tree, scratching bark and soil alike.
The tree groaned and trembled. Blood came out of it. Ayanokouji noticed this.
The river behind him overflowed. Water burst over both banks and began consuming the land. He waited. He calculated. He watched.
And then the wave hit.
A deluge of water surged across the forest like a beast unchained.
The Vowalkers were caught in its grip but did not resist. Instead, they absorbed the water. Their skin glowed faintly as they siphoned its energy.
Ayanokouji leapt into the flood and began swimming toward the hill ahead.
Water connected the shattered land like a bridge, rising thirty meters high between two hills.
Beneath him, more Vowalkers sank into the depths. Their bodies crystallized, turning to diamond beneath the pressure.
He went fifteen meters. He swam. Then finally, he reached land.
He pulled himself up onto the hill's surface, immediately running through the tall, wet grass. Behind him, the river was no longer a river.
It was a lake. It was wide, raging, and alive. What had once been ten meters of water was now over a hundred and thirty.
And the grass rustled.
It happened again.
There were hundreds, no, thousands of ripples. Swarms of Vowalkers surged after him like a wave of shadows.
Their limbs thrashed through the grass. Clawed feet stomped and tore as they gave chase.
The once-hidden monsters were now part of the world. They were unshackled.
Ayanokouji dodged left, avoiding a clawed hand that lunged from the grass.
Another one came from the right. He ducked. He rolled. A third leapt from a tree branch, but he twisted midair, kicked off its chest, and kept running.
His breath was steady. Movements were economical. But even for him, this was extreme.
The forest blurred around him. It was green and grey, shadow and light. Branches cracked. Bark shattered. He slid under a fallen log and vaulted another.
Behind him, dozens of Vowalkers screeched as they collided. But more came.
He took sharp turns. He zig-zagged through trees. A claw grazed his shoulder. He did not stop. He could not.
Another Vowalker dove at him from the left. He caught its arm midair. The claw stopped inches from his eyes. He redirected its body into a trunk before dashing forward.
>>>
Every second, the forest thickened. Every step, there was more rustling.
And then, there was silence.
The trees ended. The grass halted.
Ahead was a clearing.
A ruined village revealed itself in the mist. There were broken walls, hollow homes, and silence so sharp it hurt. Ayanokouji crossed the threshold. Behind him, the rustling stopped.
He turned.
The Vowalkers stood at the forest edge, staring. They were motionless. It was as if something bound them from crossing.
He did not take a sigh of relief. He just breathed.
Ayanokouji had been running aimlessly with the hope of finding a pond. Instead, he found a village.
***
Ayanokouji stood at the edge of the clearing, chest rising steadily as he watched the Vowalkers.
They had stopped completely. Dozens of them stood frozen beneath the canopy of trees.
For a long moment, not a single one moved.
Then, without warning, they turned away.
They left one by one.
There was no sound. There was no hiss. There was no snarl of frustration. They simply receded back into the forest. Grass rustled gently in their wake. Within seconds, the forest was still again. The pursuit vanished as if it had never existed.
Ayanokouji waited.
He waited ten seconds.
Then thirty.
A minute passed.
Not a trace remained.
Only the prints in the dirt proved they had ever been there.
He did not question it. He did not need to. Whether it was instinct, programming, or simple discipline, Ayanokouji understood one rule.
When something inexplicable gives you a moment of calm, you must use it. Do not waste it.
He turned and stepped into the village.
The air inside was different. It was denser. The light here was dimmer despite the open sky, as though a gray filter had been painted over the world.
The village itself looked ancient. Structures were broken, roofs were half-collapsed, and windows were hollow and gaping.
Each step echoed.
The ground beneath his feet was cracked and uneven. It was overtaken by creeping vines and stiff weeds.
A half-buried wagon lay on its side near a collapsed building. A rusted pan hung from a shattered doorframe, swaying slightly in wind that did not exist.
He paused beside what might have once been a well.
It stood at the center of the village. It was covered in moss and wrapped in faded cloth bands. Some of these bore unreadable markings.
Water dripped inside, rhythmic and slow. The sound was oddly loud. It echoed from somewhere far deeper than the ground allowed.
Ayanokouji's eyes swept the rooftops.
There was no movement.
There were no shadows.
There was no pursuit.
Still, he did not relax.
The Vowalkers were gone, but this place felt wrong in a different way.
He passed a broken house, glancing through the open frame. Dust lay thick inside, undisturbed. There were no footprints. There were no signs of life. There were no signs of death either. There was just absence.
He kept walking. Each step was careful and deliberate.
If the forest had been chaos, this was the calm that followed a massacre. And in some ways, it felt worse.
And suddenly he felt a presence.
𓁹𓁹
I pressed my back against the cracked stone wall. My breath was low and steady. The ruins around me were dead quiet. And then, I heard it.
There were footsteps.
They were soft, uneven, and hesitant.
They were light enough to be someone untrained, probably a girl.
Sniff... sniff...
She was trying to stop herself from crying. The emotion in her steps betrayed her. Her grief was fresh and raw.
Either way, she was vulnerable.
She passed me, unaware.
I moved.
My arm looped silently around her neck. I drew her back behind the wall in a swift motion. I did not hold her tight enough to knock her out. I held her just enough to keep her quiet.
She froze in my grip. Her breathing quickened, but she did not fight. Panic gets you killed.
I whispered near her ear.
"Lingua."
This was a test. It was a single word that reached beyond barriers. It was Latin.
She twitched.
I repeated it. "Lingua."
She looked the part.
Even through the sweat and dirt, she was striking. Her curls fell over her face. Her olive skin was cracked with dust, but there was warmth. Her hazel eyes held panic and pride.
She was a person carved by disaster, not broken by it.
She tapped my arm three times.
I loosened the hold just enough for air. There was still no room for her to resist. I did not need her to fight. I needed her silent.
That is when I felt them.
There were two more presences.
They were close and coordinated. They flanked me from both sides.
They were not Vowalkers. They were too precise and too human. One moved heavy on his left side. The other mirrored me perfectly. His footsteps matched my rhythm like a reflection.
The girl whispered, barely.
"We're the same as you."
I narrowed my eyes.
Those were not the words her lips formed.
She spoke Latin.
But I heard English.
This was a system rule. I wondered if it was automatic translation or something deeper embedded in this world's laws.
I released her.
I did not do it out of trust.
I did it out of preparation.
Because one of the presences had already stepped into view.
He looked at me and paused. Cold sweat appeared on his forehead.
"...Kiyotaka?"
He was my age, seventeen. He was lean and controlled. His posture, his breath, and his stance all screamed conditioning. This was not an average White Room product.
This was something rarer.
His brown hair fell neatly to the side.
His eyes scanned me like data. Nothing was wasted. His expression was calm, but intensity was underneath.
He was familiar.
My body did not tense. But my mind did. There was a quiet pull, somewhere deep in memory.
He was the only one remaining with me in the 4th generation of the White Room.
He was one of the few who defeated me once, only to be overshadowed the next time.
He was the first one I had a meaningless talk with about carrots.
He left the White Room once he saw he could not surpass me.
He was the one who gave me the idea of freedom.
I still remember what he said that day.
I want to be free. I want to have friends. He asked if it was normal for me to feel that way.
I know him. I remember him.
But I cannot remember his name.
The system has done something with my memory.
"Long time no see."
The question is whether these people are human or other monsters.