Darkness.
Not the peaceful kind that came before ordinary sleep.
This darkness felt... strange.
Heavy.
Like he was floating somewhere between waking and dreaming.
...
A violent gasp escaped his lips.
"Hah—!"
Shin'ya shot upright, desperately dragging air into his lungs as though he'd been drowning.
His chest rose and fell in frantic breaths.
His heartbeat pounded loudly inside his ears.
For several long seconds, he could do nothing except breathe.
...
Silence.
"...Where..."
His voice cracked.
"...Where am I?"
He slowly turned his head.
Left.
Right.
Above.
Below.
Nothing.
Nothing looked familiar.
Shin'ya let out a tired sigh.
"...Yeah."
"...Honestly, that's about what I expected."
He instinctively began checking himself over.
His left hand immediately reached for his right shoulder—the place where the Pale Cherubim's lance had pierced straight through him.
He slowly rolled his shoulder once.
...
Then again.
No sharp pain.
No burning sensation.
"...Huh?"
A faint frown crossed his face.
Shin'ya tugged at the torn fabric covering his shoulder.
The shirt was still ripped open from the battle.
Dried blood still stained the black cloth.
But beneath it...
His skin was completely intact.
Not even a scar remained.
He blinked twice.
"...What?"
His fingers traced the spot again as if expecting to find a hole.
Nothing.
He glanced toward his left shoulder and slowly rolled it.
"...Huh?"
Nothing.
Not even a dull ache.
Frowning, he lowered his hand to his right calf, where the strange Calamity variant had impaled him inside the Gateway.
He pressed against it carefully.
"...Seriously?"
"...The medics actually did their job."
He let out a small breath.
"...Huh."
"...Guess they were pretty amazing."
Shin'ya blinked once before looking down at himself.
His shirt was... gone.
Well, technically, it still existed.
What remained of it, anyway.
The once pristine midnight-black fabric had been reduced to a collection of torn strips hanging stubbornly from his shoulders. Countless cuts, dried bloodstains, and ragged holes turned it into something that looked less like clothing and more like the aftermath of a very personal argument with several monsters.
"...Yeah."
He pinched one of the loose pieces of fabric between two fingers.
It tore off immediately.
"...I don't think this is repairable."
With a sigh, Shin'ya slipped a hand into his shadow storage.
A moment later, he pulled out a neatly folded set of clean clothes.
"...Thank God."
He looked at the shredded remains hanging from his body before quietly nodding to himself.
"Thank God I threw my old clothes into Shadow Storage after my drip was ready."
A brief pause.
"...Otherwise I'd probably be wandering around looking like a homeless dude for the rest of my life."
Another glance at the ruined shirt.
"...Actually..."
"...I'm already halfway there." He Then Reached For Ketsugai Which was Resting right beside him. He dug his into his Shadow as it turned into a Dark Liquid. He pulled out his Old Clothes out.
Shin'ya stared at the neatly folded clothes in his hands for a moment.
"...Actually."
He looked down at himself again.
Dried blood.
Fresh blood.
Golden ichor.
Mud.
...Whatever that black sticky stuff was.
"...Yeah, no."
There was absolutely no way he was putting clean clothes on over... this.
With a small sigh, he tucked the spare outfit back into Shadow Storage.
"First things first."
"I need water."
His gaze slowly swept across the unfamiliar landscape.
"If this place has monsters, it probably has a river."
"...Or at least a pond."
He paused.
"...Please let it be a river."
Because if he had to scrub dried blood off himself with a handful of wet grass, he was officially submitting a complaint to whatever cosmic force kept throwing him into random worlds.
With that thought, Shin'ya adjusted the ruined remains of his shirt and began walking.
***
The landscape was... quiet.
Uncomfortably quiet.
No screaming.
No explosions.
No war horns.
No monsters clawing their way out of reality.
Only the soft rustling of leaves as a gentle breeze wandered through the unfamiliar forest.
Shin'ya stood still for a moment.
"...Weird."
His eyes slowly swept across the towering trees surrounding him.
The trunks were wider than any he'd ever seen, their bark carrying faint silver streaks that shimmered whenever sunlight slipped through the canopy above. Thick vines wrapped around ancient branches, while patches of glowing moss clung to scattered stones like tiny stars.
"...Definitely not Oakhaven."
Not that he had expected it to be.
Still...
It was strange how quickly the battlefield had disappeared.
Only minutes ago, he had been surrounded by thunder, blood, and dying soldiers.
Now...
Birds were singing.
"...The universe has terrible timing."
A tiny blue bird landed on a nearby branch.
It chirped.
Shin'ya stared at it.
The bird stared back.
"..."
"..."
The bird chirped again.
"...Good for you."
It immediately flew away.
"...Rude."
Shin'ya sighed before continuing deeper into the forest.
If there was one thing every fantasy world seemed incapable of existing without...
It was water.
Rivers attracted animals.
Animals attracted monsters.
And hopefully...
Rivers also attracted people.
"...Please let this world have proper hygiene."
He pushed aside a curtain of hanging vines, stepping carefully over tangled roots.
The forest floor grew softer beneath his boots.
The air gradually became cooler.
A faint earthy scent drifted through the breeze.
Then...
He stopped.
"..."
Was that...
Water?
Shin'ya tilted his head.
Far in the distance—
Barely audible beneath the rustling leaves—
came the gentle, rhythmic sound of flowing water.
"...Jackpot."
For what felt like the first time in... honestly, far too long...
A tiny smile appeared on his face.
He immediately quickened his pace toward the sound.The sound of rushing water grew clearer with every step.
What had started as a faint murmur soon became the steady, soothing flow of a river.
Shin'ya gently pushed aside a curtain of low-hanging branches.
"..."
A wide river stretched before him, its crystal-clear surface glimmering beneath the afternoon light. Smooth stones rested beneath the shallow edges, visible through the gently flowing water as tiny fish darted lazily between them.
"...Looks clean."
He still didn't trust it.
Old habit.
Crouching near the riverbank, Shin'ya dipped two fingers into the water.
Cold.
He watched the current for a few moments, checking whether anything unusual floated downstream.
Nothing.
No strange colors.
No oily sheen.
No suspicious smell.
He scooped up a small handful and let it run through his fingers.
"...Clear enough."
Whether it came from growing up on Earth or simply surviving one ridiculous situation after another, Shin'ya had developed the habit of never blindly trusting the first water source he found.
Better to waste thirty seconds checking...
...than spend the next three days regretting it.
Satisfied, he finally nodded to himself.
"Good enough."
With a tired sigh, he peeled off the ruined remains of his shirt.
The once-black fabric had long since surrendered to reality. It was stained with dried blood, monster ichor, mud, and enough holes to qualify as modern art.
"...You served me well."
He gave the shredded clothes one last glance before storing them inside Shadow Storage.
"Retirement suits you."
A clean set of clothes could wait.
Right now...
There was only one thing Shin'ya wanted.
Without another word—
Splash!
He jumped straight into the river.
"AHHHHH..."
The cool water wrapped around his aching body, washing away the sticky layers of blood and mud that had clung to him for what felt like an eternity.
"...This..."
He slowly leaned back until only his face remained above the surface.
"...This is heaven."
The cold current drifted lazily around him as tension melted from muscles he hadn't even realized were still locked tight.
No monsters.
No screaming soldiers.
No collapsing dimensions.
No S-Rank calamities trying to turn him into decorative wall art.
Just flowing water...
...and peace.
Shin'ya closed his eyes.
"...Five more minutes."
"I've earned at least that much."
___
Shin'ya floated lazily for another minute before finally letting out a reluctant sigh.
"...Fine."
"As much as I'd love to retire here..."
"...I should probably get moving."
He waded toward the riverbank, the water sloshing softly around his waist.
Just before climbing out, something caught his eye.
"...Oh."
The torn remains of his old shirt were still drifting near the rocks where he'd left them.
He reached over, grabbed the soaked fabric, and rinsed it a few more times in the flowing water until the dried blood and monster ichor had mostly washed away. It still looked terrible, but at least it no longer resembled something ripped straight out of a horror movie.
"...Good enough."
He gave it a few half-hearted shakes.
"...Might as well use it."
Sure, it was already soaking wet...
...but then again...
"My towel back home was always wet too."
"And somehow it still dried me."
"...I still have absolutely no idea how that worked."
Shrugging, Shin'ya began wiping the water from his hair and shoulders with the damp cloth anyway.
Against all logic...
It actually worked well enough.
"...Huh."
"Maybe towels just have hidden magical abilities."
"I should apologize to every towel I've underestimated."
Shin'ya rested a hand on the hilt of the Ketsugai.
The dark blade vibrated ever so slightly.
A pool of shadow quietly spread across the ground beside his feet, rippling like black water.
"...Let's see."
He reached into the familiar darkness.
His fingers closed around a bundle of folded fabric.
Pulling it free, he unfolded the clothes one by one.
A worn gray hoodie.
His gaze instinctively drifted toward the left shoulder.
The stitching was still there.
Slightly uneven.
Far from professional.
But it had held together through everything.
"..."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Guess Sera's sewing is stronger than I gave it credit for."
He slipped the hoodie over his head before reaching into the shadow once more.
Loose black trousers.
Then...
A pair of white sneakers.
He changed into them, brushing a bit of dirt from one shoe before planting both feet firmly on the ground.
Shin'ya looked himself over.
Gray hoodie.
Loose black trousers.
White sneakers.
"...Yeah."
"The drip has officially returned."
He gave a satisfied nod.
"Perfect combination."
The shadow at his feet quietly receded as he rested his hand once more on the Ketsugai hanging at his waist.
With one final glance at the peaceful river, Shin'ya turned toward the unknown wilderness ahead.
"...Alright."
"Let's see where you decided to dump me this time."