The night cold crept beneath my clothes. Whatever comfort I'd had before vanished in the blink of an eye.
This world remains indifferent to me.
I closed my eyes. Waves broke against the shore. Breeze moved through the grass. My own heartbeat drummed in my ears.
Once again, these sensations—so natural, yet set against such a fantastical place—filled me with nostalgia and terror in equal measure.
I want to scream.
I want some of this to make sense. I want the world to stop hurling me into these situations.
I retreated to my happiest memories to keep from losing my mind on the spot.
….
…
..
.
I was running down a dirt path—still very small, brimming with energy and hope.
I was approaching an old house, white-painted and two stories tall.
"Mom!" I threw open the back door of the house where I'd grown up; the smell of stew sent me sprinting to the kitchen. "Mom!"
I saw her from behind, her long black hair falling to her waist.
"Almost ready." I had branded my mother's voice into my mind with fire, but the years—and Jakob's memories—had ravaged my recollections. "Come here."
I want to believe this is her voice. I want to believe I still remember her face.
I stepped closer.
With each step, everything felt less stable.
The image of this memory began to crumble.
I reached my hand toward my mother.
"Mom!" I cried out. The helplessness I feel right now—
My memories of her are being erased.
"No…" Please. Not this. Anything but this. "No!"
….
…
..
.
"…" I opened my eyes and felt a tear sliding down my face. "Damn it…"
I clenched my fist so hard I could feel my nails drawing blood.
Not even the pain stopped me. I wished I could do something with the frustration devouring me in that moment.
I snarled.
For a single second, I considered screaming and cursing every god in existence.
"No," I told myself, forcing my breath to slow. "It's not worth it."
I straightened my tie and smoothed the sleeves of my uniform to recover my composure.
Another breeze made me look ahead.
I drew a breath and sharpened my gaze.
Standing on the edge of a cliff, I bore witness to the imposing vision of the world.
A strong wind tousled my hair, and the sound of the waves drew my eyes to the dark sea below.
The blackness of the waters, reflecting the faint golden light of the moon, struck me as deeply unsettling.
The idea of a monster surging from the depths frightened me more than it should have.
"Ha." I laughed without humor at that thought. My luck is rotten enough for it to actually happen.
In the game, there had been colossal enemies. I recalled one in Armine's route—
God. I'm pathetic.
I let out the breath I'd been holding.
"How small I am." Zofia had transported me here in the blink of an eye. "That much power in the hands of a single being is terrifying."
It grows more horrible the longer I think about it. Gods walk among mortals; the whim of such beings is law wherever nothing exists to oppose them.
Knowing it is even worse than living in ignorance.
This world that had once been a work of art is now something closer to a nightmare for me.
I laughed at that.
"I could get drunk on this madness." I stretched my hands out before me.
That would honestly be the most coherent thing I could do. In the face of this life's insanity, what other choice do I have?
This body is a corpse that still moves. I am a usurper—the parasite feeding on what remains of this young man.
Watching the waves kiss the sand of the beach, I smiled. The solution to my problems lay right in front of me.
One step, and my story in this world would end.
"Don't you dare run." That indifferent voice came from the sky. I didn't want to turn and face it—the moon hung in that direction. "You don't have permission to be that much of a coward."
The ease with which she reads me leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
"I know." I turned around, and the shiver I felt upon facing the moonlight nearly made me scream.
But I must press forward, even when I want to flee. Primrose taught me that.
Fear won't kill me.
"Good." Zofia's hollow voice reminded me how little my life means to her.
"I…" She hovered in the sky, her silhouette seeming to drink the light, rendering her a dark smear against the heavens. "…What are we doing here?"
I can't deny that what I feel toward her is some mixture of dread, contempt, and hatred.
Zofia descended slowly. Hovering some three meters away, I felt her unnatural gaze fix on me.
Not even her eyes transmitted light. The gold monocle was the only thing that barely helped me discern what she truly was.
"Watch closely." She moved past me with startling speed, never glancing my way, and stopped at the cliff's edge. "This is the site of your next lesson."
Her gaze seemed fixed on the sea.
The fear I felt intensified. I laughed to mask my nerves.
"I gathered as much." I looked out at the sea again.
I bit my lower lip.
Arguing with her was like trying to stop the rain with your bare hands—you can give it everything you have and still end up drenched.
"Zofia." Without meaning to, her name left my mouth like a curse.
She turned on her heel and began walking briskly.
"Follow me." It was an order.
Not that I had another option. I walked behind her, maintaining a distance of three paces.
We descended slowly toward the beach. For once, I decided to keep my mouth shut.
My eyes swept over everything around me.
The green grass reflected the golden light; there were no clouds in the sky; the sound of crickets reached my ears.
Worst of all, I couldn't find a single point of reference—any clue that might tell me where I was.
There is an enormous difference between viewing these landscapes on a screen and standing face to face with them.
Giving up, I fixed my eyes on my guide. Zofia's cloak dragged along the ground without snagging on anything, as if the world itself had decided it didn't want to get involved with her either.
Reaching the beach, I felt a sharp change. The air was thick with a murky distortion.
"Careful," Zofia warned, sounding bored. "We stand on ground that has witnessed miracles and blasphemies."
A faint, irritating static clung to the atmosphere. My tongue detected a bitter taste, and a sensation of alert washed over me.
"What is this place?" I scanned the horizon; cliffs formed an incomplete circle.
It almost resembled a crescent moon.
"A place of remembrance." Zofia's cold voice made me stare at her.
Nothing ominous at all—
Then she took the first steps onto the grey sand.
After perhaps three minutes of silence, she stopped and faced me.
I remained at the edge of the sand. She extended her hand from beneath her coat and pointed toward a specific spot in the sea.
I couldn't see anything from where I stood.
"Come closer." She commanded. I truly had no other choice.
The moment I took my first step onto the sand, an invisible weight fell upon my shoulders.
"Shit." On my second step, the weight increased. Tolerable for now, but given the considerable distance between Zofia and me, that could change quickly.
"Something wrong?" Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could swear there was amusement in Zofia's voice. "You can always turn around and renounce the offer."
I smiled.
"Good joke." With the irritation Zofia had kindled in me, coupled with my desire for power, I forced myself to walk toward her even if it meant becoming Atlas himself. "Shit."
Halfway there, I realized the weight wasn't the only thing increasing—it felt as though someone were squeezing my chest.
"Come on." But it wasn't enough to make me give in. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to keep walking, even as the weight bowed my head.
At last I stopped beside her and raised my eyes. I couldn't see hers, but I fixed my gaze on where they ought to be and tried to project defiance.
"…Good." Her voice was calm. She was still pointing at the sea. "Look."
"…Ah."
A pillar rose from the sea.
A column of pale grey stone that had no right to exist. It was so tall it seemed intent on bisecting the horizon and piercing the sky.
Its surface was covered in reliefs so dense and intricate that staring at them too long made one's vision slide away, refusing to focus.
Every imaginable form of marine life was carved there—creatures I recognized and others I did not—all rendered with staggering realism.
"Has the Hero already arrived in Eozän?" To my surprise, there was genuine emotion in Zofia's voice.
*Hope.*
"Yes."
"Good." I watched her release the breath she'd been holding; for a single second she looked so human it struck me as almost unnatural. "Can you guarantee he will save the world?"
I looked at the pillar. The wind caressed my face.
"No." I don't even need to reflect on that. My confidence in everything I once knew is fractured. "But he's our best option."
Not to say our only one.
Zofia held her silence for what felt like an eternity. I can't imagine what goes through her mind, and frankly, I don't want to know.
"…Good." Her voice returned to its usual indifference. "You're not foolish enough to believe in certainties."
I laughed at that. This woman is the direct reason I can no longer enjoy looking at the moon and why I wake up drenched in sweat at midnight.
Honestly, she is the first person in this world I find disagreeable on many levels… and yet…
"I think that was the closest thing to a compliment you've ever given me." There was no visible change in her, but I could feel the air between us grow less uncomfortable.
"You are an irritating creature." Her voice felt less hollow—or perhaps I was only deceiving myself. "At least you compensate by being interesting."
Hey…
"Interesting," I repeated with a note of mockery.
"Don't let it go to your head. Insects are interesting. That doesn't mean I enjoy their company."
I smiled in spite of myself.
"The feeling is mutual."
And to my surprise—
"Ahahaha." Zofia laughed.
I stood staring at the Lovecraftian entity. The reaction was as terrifying as it was fascinating.
"Good. Now—" Her laughter cut off abruptly, and her voice changed. Every trace of softness evaporated. "Look at me."
She said it with such authority that I had no choice but to obey.
Her hat had vanished without ceremony. Her black hair stirred in the wind.
Those beautiful, mystical eyes regarded me as though I were something insignificant.
"What do you know of the Gnostamur?" A thousand voices spoke at once, and a stabbing pain lanced through my skull.
*Gnostamur*—the term the developers had given their magic system. Because of course they had to give it a unique and pretentious name. The origin of all power and the source of many characters' suffering.
"Nothing." I was honest. Everything I knew about this world as a game mechanic is useless in reality.
Zofia floated upward and drifted several meters away from me.
"What is fire?" The voice of a thousand people, accompanied by the rumble of thunder, reminded me that I stood in the presence of a non-human being.
I want to flee. I truly, desperately want to.
I swallowed my fear and chose to smile as I spat out the first idea that came to mind.
"Heat?" The silence between us made me feel like an idiot. "…Brightness?"
"Close." The eldritch entity seemed unoffended by my ignorance. "Those are merely the parts that comprise the concept."
She extended her hand toward the sky. Between her fingers, a reddish flame blossomed and danced across her fingertips before falling.
The flame remained lit upon the surface of the sea. The red, gold, and black of this night made me wish it were a painting I could stare at for hours.
"…" I approached the water with labored steps—without entering it—just to get a better look at the fire.
The interplay of colors was hypnotic.
Such beauty. As if death, life, and some spark I couldn't name were all contained within it.
I didn't care about the weight on my shoulders or the fear I still felt. I only wanted to seize that light.
"Careful." The voice of authority called from the sky. "You can lose yourself in the glow."
I stopped just before stepping into the water, raised my gaze, and the blue gleam of Zofia's eyes calmed my mind.
She was right. I'd been moments away from throwing myself in to claim the fire.
"Thank you." Even if she hadn't done it out of the goodness of her heart, I should acknowledge the good it did me.
"Don't thank me." Her contempt for my gratitude was remarkable. "Simply refrain from falling into madness."
Of course.
"I'll keep that in mind." I shouldn't seek the sympathy of a being like her.
"Human souls are keys to the wellspring of all things—call it the core, or the origin." Her powerful voice resonated across the entire place, imposing and grating in equal measure. "Through them, we open doors to the great concepts that have existed since the King gave them form."
She raised her hand to the sky. The intense light that poured forth forced me to shut my eyes and shield my face with my arms.
"Light." The brilliance ceased. Then I noticed the surface of the sea had been coated in a thin layer of ice. "Cold."
I blinked. Zofia was no longer in the sky. I searched frantically; losing sight of her was the worst thing that could happen to me.
She is a force beyond my goddamn comprehension. I felt tempted to draw Friedrich.
Being left alone in this place produced a suffocating sensation. My hands trembled with fear.
"Shit."
"Space." I whipped around to my left. The intensity in Zofia's eyes, paired with the total absence of emotion, was the clearest example of the uncanny valley I had ever witnessed. "The key is to connect with the wellspring and understand it."
The index finger of her right hand touched my heart. She traced a circle, ascended to my forehead, repeated the gesture, and then her finger mimed the act of grasping something.
"Watch." With a sharp tug, a golden thread of energy appeared. She pinched it between her index finger and thumb, inspecting it closely. "This is you."
In her free hand, a small blue flame materialized and danced across her fingers.
She fixed her eyes on me. With a swift motion, she pressed the flame into the golden thread, burning it.
"AAAAAHHH!"
An excruciating pain tore through my heart and skull. I couldn't withstand it—my legs gave way and I fell face-first into the sand.
Something was moving beneath my skin, writhing and spreading as though roots were growing through every part of my body.
My skin burned, my muscles seized, and convulsions kept me from standing.
"Cilfann and Lloer," Zofia said, devoid of any empathy—as cold as a scientist describing a new experiment. "It's an intermediate-level spell. It could take considerable time under normal circumstances, but I believe it's more efficient to exploit your condition as an foreigner. The Gnostamur has notable effects on the psyche and body of its users."
"AAAAAHHH!" I screamed in frustration and pain, trying to force myself upright. The most I managed was to drag myself across the sand.
"Forcing the knowledge of the spell into your soul is a shorter path than waiting until you're ready to learn." Zofia stood beside me, watching me suffer. There was nothing in her tone or her eyes that revealed any inner change. Then she crouched. "You may not see it now, but all of this is in service of something greater. Something neither of us is prepared to understand yet. For now—embrace the path of the star."
….
…
..
.
I was standing upon a sea of crystalline waters, with a dense bluish mist blanketing every direction.
Looking down, I found the reflected image of a figure swathed in red cloth. Not the red of wine or of grime, but of blood.
A hood covered my face in profound darkness. I extended my hand toward the water.
Even my fingers were wrapped in crimson fabric.
I touched the surface. It felt hard as crystal, yet I still produced the rippling effect of a droplet falling into a puddle.
Should I feel overcome by fear? Perhaps by the unknown?
Honestly? I could use a coffee.
"Ahahaha." Laughing at everything, I felt more in control—even if I wasn't.
I want to go back. Not to my former life, but much further than that.
Those happy days.
My mother. My cat, Mychelle. Even my ex, Elen.
…Does she still think of me?
My mind, ever treacherous, conjured Elen's image without my permission.
Green eyes that, compared to Primrose's, now seemed muddy to me. That perpetually analytical gaze.
A smile I used to work hard to coax out of her. In this moment, the thought feels unbearable.
An oval face, full cheeks, and a beauty she never let anyone forget.
…It no longer stirs anything in me.
The horrors of this world have put everything into a new perspective.
I should thank fate for that.
"…" I must accept the total absence of logic in this world. Extending my arms to either side as I stood tall, I decided to welcome whatever awaited me beyond the reach of reason. "Extinguish my eyes: I can still see you. Seal my ears: I can still hear you. And without feet, I can walk toward you; and without a mouth, I can invoke you."
I remembered that old poem. For a few moments, I felt a yearning for power, and I spoke again.
"Oh, let the Word be fulfilled! Lord, see that we are alone—the day declines, and we have need of You, the evening star, the savior, to guide us."
Invoking the God of my mother, I felt everything around me tremble.
From the horizon, a fierce brilliance appeared.
Like golden fire, I watched a cross descend, scattering the mist and draining the red from my garments until it disappeared entirely.
An intense warmth spread through my chest. I felt as though someone had uncovered and cradled my face.
….
…
..
.
I inhaled sharply, gasping as if I'd just surfaced from underwater.
My face was still pressed to the sand. My head spun; I wasn't sure which way was up or down.
Something heavy dropped beside me. I followed the sound with my eyes—my twin swords.
"Get up." Zofia commanded. She had her back to me, facing the sea; the breeze tugged at her coat. "We'll put to the test whether your soul managed to assimilate the spell."
Her lack of emotion and the mechanical way she spoke about me made my blood boil.
"Give me a moment." I managed to sit up on the sand, holding my head, trying to steady it. "I'm not stable right now."
"Hurry up." This woman's indifference is almost wounding. "I am not one of those you use to pretend you belong in this place—or that the lives of this world matter to you."
The way she said it, and the emptiness of her tone, struck me like a blow.
"…I'm not pretending."
"Don't try to deceive me—or yourself. For beings like you, the lives of those who inhabit this world are no more valuable than those of ants." The ease with which she says such things belongs to her alone. "Don't pretend you wouldn't sacrifice the half-giant or the beast in human form if it suited you."
There is no way to adequately express the fury I feel right now.
"AAAAAHHHHH!" I screamed with everything I had, drew my weapons, and charged at Zofia.
I know it's idiotic. But I need this.
I swung my white blade at her back. She didn't even seem interested in my scream.
"How foolish." With inhuman fluidity, Zofia sidestepped and released a sigh. "Desist from these childish acts. It is utterly pointless."
My feet sank into the seawater. I let out a growl and leveled both swords in her direction.
"Maybe. But—"
"AARRRRAAHHHHHH."
I froze at the sound—something dredged up from the abyss itself.
It resembled a dying moan, the call of some primordial beast that once reigned, and the attempt at speech from someone whose throat had been destroyed.
My gaze flew to the sea.
I felt sweat forming on my brow.
The flame upon the sea had disappeared.
Not extinguished—no, that mild, rational word is far too merciful for what had occurred.
The sea was once again lit only by the sickly gold of the moon; yet in that very instant, a deeper glow—greenish, unwholesome—began to churn beneath the waves some distance from the shore.
"Fall back," Zofia ordered, and though her tone didn't rise, the authority in it carried all the force it needed.
I obeyed instantly, bolting out of the water and planting myself at her side.
My body went cold. Something viscous and heavy seemed to crawl down my spine.
"…" I was transfixed, riveted on the sea.
Something was rising from the deep.
"AARRRRAAHHHHHH!"
"Fascinating." Zofia's voice held the delight of a small child encountering a new pet.
Everything shook.
The green glow intensified. The water appeared to boil, releasing a dense column of steam.
The stench of death and putrefaction fouled the air.
I nearly vomited from the revulsion.
Something surged from the sea—abruptly.
Not like a beast breaching the surface, or a ship rising from hidden depths, but like drowned geography forcing itself upward from an abyssal epoch.
A hand—
Scaled, three-fingered, encrusted with barnacles and jagged corals. It gleamed faintly gold, its scales like plates of tarnished bronze.
Sea life tumbled from the crevices of its rotting flesh the instant it gained purchase, clutching the pillar and using it as a brace.
"Watch closely." I turned to look at Zofia. To my horror, a genuine smile—a full, unguarded smile—was on her face, accompanied by an intense gleam in her eyes. "This is a supremely interesting turn of events."
"AAAAAHHHHH!" The thing finally ascended.
First, I saw the crown.
No—not a crown. Antlers. Or what had once been antlers, now twisted and fused into an irregular mockery.
Algae hung like rotting banners from the sides of its black hide.
Then the head.
Oh God.
Oh God, no.
It emerged slowly, methodically, as though the mere act of surfacing demanded a strength it no longer possessed.
The face was not even remotely humanoid—it resembled a grotesque amalgamation of several deep-sea fish.
Its jaw hung open at an angle that defied anatomy, revealing rows of teeth like the broken masts of ships, blackened by age and decay.
The eyes—
There were far too many.
Dozens of them, scattered across what should have been a forehead, clustered like barnacles—white as curdled milk—staring in every direction at once.
And they blinked.
Not in unison.
One. Then another. Then three at once.
Each blink produced a wet, viscous sound.
I felt vomit climb my throat again and forced it down.
The thing continued to rise.
Its shoulders emerged—broad as a fortress wall, covered in what might once have been scales but were now nothing more than sheets of blackened, peeling flesh that sloughed off in pieces and fell back into the sea with sickening splashes.
Its torso was bloated. Distended. As if the ocean itself had poured inside the carcass and filled it like a wineskin until the skin threatened to burst.
Ribs protruded at unnatural angles—some broken, others fused by calcified growths that looked like clenched fingers.
Its other arm—if it could even be called an arm—rose from the water.
It was skeletal in places, swollen in others, draped in what appeared to be tattered fishing nets and the remains of… ships? Yes. Fragments of masts and rigging were driven into the flesh like splinters.
The thing extended its hand.
Toward me.
The green glow in the sea spread outward. Darkened humanoid silhouettes drifted toward the surface.
"…Oh God." I understood the gesture far too late. This thing was here for me.
"Precisely." Zofia spoke, then loosed a laugh that sounded deranged. "I thank you, anomaly. Thanks to you, I can behold the corpse of a god."
"We need to leave—now." I began to back away. Fighting was not an option in my mind.
"Nothing of the sort." Zofia spread her arms wide, her expression ecstatic. "Come now, anomaly. This is the event necessary for your growth."
I stopped dead in my tracks.
"You're insane."
She laughed again, far more animated this time, and only ceased after a few moments—while a dead god drew closer to us.
"After everything—" She fixed her eyes on me, the intensity of her gaze almost mystical. "Do you still consider yourself sane?"