Despair Syndrome (1)

Chapter 14 Part 1

No pain—No Gain 「5」

<Despair Syndrome >(1)

✧Despair✧

「I'll be okay, just leave me alone.」

The grass beneath me felt colder than before, but my body was too numb to notice properly. My breath came in short, ragged gasps, my lungs straining with every inhalation. The reflection in the water hadn’t changed. The golden clock embedded in my right iris remained, its intricate gears spinning in a maddeningly steady rhythm. No matter how much I blinked or rubbed my eyes, it was still there.

Why?
Why was this happening?
Why couldn’t I just rest?

I collapsed back onto the damp grass, my arms sprawled out as I stared upward. The night sky stretched endlessly above me, but it wasn’t the same sky I’d once known. The moon hung low and impossibly large, its crimson hue staining the horizon like a wound in the heavens. It was easily a hundred times bigger than Earth’s moon, its surface rippling with jagged craters that almost seemed alive. The sight of it was both terrifying and oddly mesmerizing.

“It’s… beautiful,” I murmured, my voice hoarse from crying and screaming.

I didn’t know why I thought that. There was nothing beautiful about this place—nothing beautiful about the endless torment I was trapped in. And yet, the way the moon cast its crimson light across the broken world, the way the stars shimmered in constellations I couldn’t recognize… It all felt surreal, like a painting I’d stumbled into.

The stars themselves seemed to mock me. They weren’t the stars I knew from Earth. There was no familiar Milky Way, no Orion’s Belt, no Big Dipper. Just countless pinpricks of light scattered haphazardly, each one flickering with an eerie luminescence. It was wrong, all of it, but it was ‘pretty’.

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my head, but my thoughts refused to settle. Everything felt too loud, too close. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out even the gentle rustling of the forest. The world tilted slightly, and I had to steady myself with my trembling hands just to sit upright.

“Stop… Stop thinking,” I whispered to myself. My voice cracked, and I hated how weak I sounded. “Just stop… thinking.”

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop. The memories of dying—over and over and over—played on repeat in my head. My body had grown used to pain, to the sensation of swords piercing my skin, flames burning me alive, magic ripping me apart. But this? This exhaustion, this endless awareness… It was worse. So much worse.

I reached into the pocket of my hoodie and felt the cool, sharp edges of the compass I always carried. My fingers wrapped around it tightly as if it were the last anchor keeping me from completely losing myself. The metal glinted faintly in the crimson moonlight as I pulled it out and stared at it.

The needle spun aimlessly, pointing in every direction at once. It was broken, useless—just like me.

Without thinking, I turned the compass in my hand and pressed its sharp edge against the skin of my palm. A sharp sting followed as it cut through, a thin line of blood welling up almost immediately. The pain was grounding, a reminder that I was still here, still alive.

“Does it even matter?” I muttered bitterly, watching the blood drip onto the grass.

I shifted my grip and brought the compass to my side, pressing it against my ribs this time. With a trembling hand, I pushed it harder, the sharp edge digging into my flesh. A fresh wave of pain shot through me, and I gasped, my vision momentarily blurring.

But I didn’t stop.

Over and over, I pressed the compass into my skin, each stab drawing fresh blood and fresh tears. I wasn’t sure why I was doing it—maybe to prove I was still alive, maybe to punish myself for not being able to escape this nightmare. The crimson moon watched silently as I bled, its light mingling with the red pooling beneath me.

“Why?” I choked out, my voice breaking. “Why can’t I just… Why can’t this stop?”

Tears streamed down my face, hot and relentless. My chest ached with each sob, and the golden clock in my eye spun faster, as if mocking my anguish. I hated it. I hated this body, this world, this endless cycle. I hated *myself*.

My gaze drifted back to the sky, where the stars twinkled in their strange, alien patterns. They didn’t care about me. Nothing in this world did. But I couldn’t look away. The longer I stared, the more the stars seemed to blur together, forming strange shapes and patterns that I couldn’t quite understand.

“It’s not fair,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “It’s not fair…”

The words felt hollow even as I said them. What was fair? What did it matter? Nothing mattered.

I curled up on the ground, clutching the compass tightly against my chest. The cool metal was smeared with my blood now, but I didn’t care. My tears soaked into the fabric of my hoodie as I trembled uncontrollably, my body wracked with exhaustion and despair.

I don’t know how long I lay there, staring at the sky and crying. Time didn’t mean anything anymore. Minutes, hours, days—it was all the same. My mind drifted in and out, my thoughts incoherent and fractured.

Eventually, the tears stopped, leaving me hollow and numb. My body ached all over, my skin sticky with dried blood and sweat. The crimson moon still hung low in the sky, its light unwavering. I reached a hand toward it, my fingers trembling.

“It’s pretty,” I murmured again, my voice devoid of emotion.

I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the moon, the stars, or the blood staining my hands. Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it.

My vision blurred again, and I felt my consciousness start to waver. The golden clock in my eye pulsed faintly, its steady rhythm lulling me into a strange, half-dreaming state. My breathing slowed, each inhale and exhale shallow and strained.

For a moment, I thought I might finally fall asleep, that I might finally escape this unbearable reality.

But even as my eyelids grew heavy, the crimson moon burned brighter, its light searing into my mind like a brand. The stars seemed to move closer, their strange, shifting patterns growing more vivid.

I opened my eyes, and the world was crumbling again. Buildings lay in jagged ruins, their skeletal remains jutting against a grey, rain-soaked sky. The downpour was relentless, soaking me to the bone as I stood in the middle of the destruction. The air was heavy, oppressive, and carried the faint scent of ash and blood. It was always the same: the same broken streets, the same red-eyed rabbits, the same end.

I stared at the horizon, my breaths shallow and irregular. My chest ached, not from exertion but from the hollow weight of knowing exactly what was coming. I was tired—no, exhausted beyond words. My body felt like it didn’t belong to me anymore, just a shell to house the shattered fragments of my mind.

And yet, I couldn’t stop moving.

The sound of skittering claws reached my ears, snapping me out of my stupor. A single rabbit hopped into view, its red eyes gleaming with malice. It tilted its head at me, baring sharp teeth that glistened with rain. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t react. My face remained blank as I raised my hand, palm open toward the creature.

“Burn,” I whispered, my voice monotone.

A magic circle materialized in front of me, its intricate lines glowing with a cold blue light. Flames erupted from its center, surging forward like a tidal wave. The rabbit didn’t even have time to scream. The spell engulfed it in an instant, leaving behind nothing but scorched ground and the faint smell of charred fur.

I didn’t feel satisfaction. I didn’t feel anything.

The skittering grew louder. One rabbit turned into a dozen, then a hundred. They poured into the ruined streets like a living tide, their red eyes glowing like embers in the gloom. My fingers twitched, but my face remained expressionless.

“Burn,” I repeated, my voice barely audible over the rain.

The magic circle flared to life again, and a massive torrent of flames roared out, consuming the horde in a single sweep. Their screams echoed in my ears, sharp and shrill, but I didn’t flinch. When the flames subsided, nothing remained but scorched earth and a faint haze of smoke.

I let my arm fall to my side, my legs trembling beneath me. The spell had drained me more than I expected, but I couldn’t afford to rest. Not yet.

The air grew heavy, oppressive, and then I heard it—a deep, guttural roar that shook the very ground beneath my feet. I turned my head slowly, almost mechanically, to face the source of the sound.

The dragon emerged from the storm, its massive wings cutting through the rain as it descended. Its scales shimmered with an iridescent hue, shifting between black and purple with every movement. Jagged spines lined its back, glowing faintly with a pulsing light, and its eyes burned like molten gold.

It landed with an earth-shaking crash, its claws gouging deep trenches into the ground. The rain sizzled against its body, evaporating into steam that shrouded it in a ghostly mist. Its gaze locked onto me, and for a moment, we simply stared at each other.

I didn’t react.

I didn’t run or scream.

I just stared back, my face a mask of emptiness.

“Die,” I muttered, my voice hollow.

A massive magic circle appeared above the dragon, its glowing lines intricate and ominous. The beast barely had time to roar before it was obliterated. The dragon split into a million pieces, blood and viscera splattering across the ruins like a grotesque storm.

For a brief moment, there was silence.

Then the roar came again.

One dragon turned into two, then ten, then a hundred. They filled the sky, their iridescent scales glinting like shards of a shattered mirror. Each flap of their wings sent shockwaves through the air, and their molten eyes burned with an otherworldly rage.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My body was frozen, my mind numb. The hundred dragons descended upon me, their purple flames consuming everything in their path.

Pain exploded through my body, sharper and more intense than anything I’d felt before. It wasn’t just my flesh that burned—my very soul felt like it was being ripped apart, pierced and torn by invisible hands. I screamed, the sound raw and guttural, but it did nothing to lessen the agony.

The flames consumed me, reducing my body to ash, but the pain didn’t stop. I felt every second of it, every searing wave of heat, every crushing blow. My vision blurred, the world dissolving into a haze of fire and blood.

And then, darkness.

I woke up gasping, my body jerking violently as if I’d been shocked awake. The familiar sight of the lake greeted me, its calm surface reflecting the crimson moon above. My clothes were dry, but my skin felt scorched, raw from the memory of the flames.

I clutched my chest, my fingers digging into the fabric of my hoodie. My heart raced, each beat echoing in my ears like a drum. The pain was still fresh, the phantom sensation of my soul being torn apart lingering like a shadow over my mind.

I couldn’t do this anymore.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision as I stared at the lake. My body trembled uncontrollably, wracked with exhaustion and despair. I was so tired—of the pain, of the endless cycles, of the hopelessness that clung to me like a second skin.

“Why?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Why can’t I just… stop?”

No one answered. The crimson moon stared down at me, silent and unyielding. The stars flickered in their alien constellations, indifferent to my suffering.

I buried my face in my hands, my tears soaking into my palms. My body shook with silent sobs, each one heavier than the last.

I was tired. So tired....

The lake stretched out before me, its surface reflecting the crimson moon like a bloody eye staring unblinkingly at the world. I sat on the damp grass, my knees pulled to my chest, my arms limp, my eyes hollow. My tears had long since dried, leaving salty streaks etched on my face. The exhaustion that weighed on me was suffocating, yet I couldn’t close my eyes, not yet. The fear of waking up in that place again held me captive.

The sky was vast and alien, unfamiliar constellations flickering in a cosmic dance I didn’t recognize. Stars dotted the heavens, beautiful and distant, their cold light indifferent to my suffering. For a moment, I allowed myself to stare, to lose myself in the vastness above. It was the only thing left that felt real—the infinite expanse of the universe, so far removed from the nightmare of my existence.

And then, as I gazed upward, something broke the stillness.

A faint sound—a soft chime—rang out in my ears, drawing my attention to the edge of my vision. A translucent window appeared before me, words etched in glowing letters that I could barely comprehend:

[New Save Point Reached: Lake of Hope and Dreams]

The words lingered in the air, mocking me with their absurdity. Hope and dreams? Where were mine? What remained of them?
“Heh”, a chuckle escaped my mouth.
“Hahaahahhahhahahahhahahhahha”,I laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that cut through the silence. The laughter came unbidden, spilling from my throat in uncontrollable waves. My chest heaved as it turned into a manic cackle, echoing off the trees and the water’s surface.

“How ironic,” I whispered, the laughter dying in my throat, replaced by a voice that sounded hollow even to me. “Hope and dreams? ‘Where are mine?’ Huh?” I shouted into the emptiness, my voice cracking. “Where’s my hope? Where are my dreams? Answer me!”

But the world offered no reply. The lake was silent, the trees unmoving, the crimson moon staring down like a cruel, dispassionate observer. The only sound was my own ragged breathing, the quiet rasp of air scraping against the rawness in my throat. My laughter returned, softer this time, breaking into sobs that wracked my exhausted body.

I glanced at the sword lying beside me, its blade catching the faint glow of the moon. The weapon I’d stolen from the swordsman in the execution ground. It was the only thing that had stayed with me through this madness, a constant in an otherwise chaotic existence. With trembling fingers, I reached for it, lifting it from the grass.

The moment my hand wrapped around the hilt, another window appeared, glowing faintly in the air before me:

[Sloth]
[???????]

I stared at the text, the words meaningless to me. Sloth? What did that mean? And the question marks—what were they hiding? My lips twitched into a weak, humorless smile. I didn’t care. Whatever secrets the blade held, they were as pointless as everything else. With a sigh, I let the sword fall from my hand, the weight of it pulling me down further into the pit of despair I’d been trying to climb out of.

My gaze shifted to the wand I’d taken from the witch. Its sleek, black surface was smooth to the touch, its weight almost negligible. Another window appeared when I picked it up, displaying its name and a fragment of its purpose:

[Ra=E]
[Advanced Arcane Conduit]

The words felt foreign, disconnected from reality. I didn’t care to understand them. My fingers tightened around the wand, a sudden surge of anger bubbling up from the depths of my emptiness. Without thinking, I raised my fist and brought it down, snapping the wand in half with a loud crack. The jagged edges dug into my palm, splitting the skin and drawing blood, but the pain was nothing. It didn’t even register compared to the agony of my soul being ripped apart in those endless deaths.

The broken wand fell to the ground, leaving behind a single, shimmering blue orb that pulsed faintly with energy. I stared at it, unmoving, as if expecting it to do something, to explain itself. When nothing happened, I picked it up, squeezing it between my fingers until it shattered. A surge of energy coursed through me, sharp and overwhelming, but I barely noticed. My mana reserves—whatever those were—seemed to expand, but the sensation was fleeting, quickly drowned out by the numbing haze that clouded my mind.

I sat there for what felt like hours, the pieces of the broken wand scattered around me, my blood mingling with the dirt. My gaze drifted back to the sky, to the crimson moon that loomed so large it seemed ready to swallow the earth whole. It was monstrous, unnatural, yet strangely beautiful. Its light bathed the landscape in a surreal glow, casting long shadows that danced with the ripples on the lake’s surface.

My eyes darted back and forth between the moon and the stars, the constellations unfamiliar and alien. I tried to remember the constellations from Earth—Orion, the Big Dipper, Cassiopeia—but they felt like fragments of a distant dream, memories belonging to someone else. The stars above me now were brighter, sharper, yet they held no comfort, no familiarity. They were strangers, just like everything else in this world.

My eyelids grew heavy, my body succumbing to the exhaustion that had been clawing at me for hours. But even as sleep threatened to take me, I fought against it, afraid of what awaited me in the ruined city. My hands trembled as I reached into my hoodie pocket, pulling out the compass. Its sharp edge glinted in the moonlight, and without hesitation, I pressed it against my arm, letting it bite into my flesh.

The pain was sharp, real, grounding. Blood welled up from the shallow cut, staining my sleeve, but it wasn’t enough. I pressed harder, the pain blossoming into something more profound, something that reminded me I was still alive. Still here. Still real.

I stared at the moon all night, my bloodied hands clutching the compass like a lifeline. The tears had long since stopped, but my chest still ached, hollow and heavy. The stars blurred as my vision wavered, my body screaming for rest.

Finally, my eyes closed, and I fell into the abyss.
The ruined city greeted me once again, its skeletal buildings draped in a suffocating shroud of ash and rain. The sky above was the same bleak void, churning with crimson clouds that pulsed faintly like a dying heart. The moment my feet touched the cracked and broken pavement, I felt the cold seep into me. My body moved mechanically, my mind barely processing the familiar dread clawing at my chest.

I could already hear the soft scurrying, the faint thuds of countless tiny feet. The rabbits were coming.

The first red-eyed rabbit bounded into view, its movements unnervingly quick and fluid. I didn’t flinch this time. My hands rose almost instinctively, the spell I’d memorized and practiced a hundred times forming on my lips.

“Burn,” I muttered.

A blue magic circle materialized before me, its intricate lines and symbols glowing with ethereal light. A torrent of blue fire erupted, engulfing the rabbit in an instant. The creature didn’t even have time to squeal before it was incinerated. The flames spread outward, catching the others that followed, reducing them to ash.

One by one, they came, and one by one, they fell. The spell had become second nature, my mana depleting steadily but efficiently as I dispatched the horde with precision. The blue fire illuminated the ruined streets, casting flickering shadows that danced with my every movement.

Finally, silence. My shoulders sagged, and I let out a shaky breath, but it was short-lived.

The roar shattered the quiet, a deafening bellow that shook the ground beneath my feet. I didn’t need to look up to know what was coming—the dragon. Its massive form descended from the crimson clouds, wings spread wide, its scales gleaming with an unnatural sheen. Its eyes, glowing with malevolence, locked onto me as it released another bone-rattling roar.

I didn’t bother running. There was no point. Instead, I stared at it, my mind swirling with thoughts of rest, of sleep. My body ached, my soul screamed for reprieve, but there was none to be found here.

The dragon drew closer, its purple flames already gathering in its maw. I raised my hand weakly, not even bothering to form a proper stance. The words came unbidden, my voice flat and lifeless:

“If you move… you’re dead.”

The dragon paused, as if it had understood me. But it was only a brief hesitation before its wings beat once more, propelling it forward. My eyes flickered with something cold and unfeeling.

“Die,” I muttered.

The air around me crackled as thousands of magic circles appeared above the city, their glow casting an eerie light on the ruins. In the center of it all, a massive circle materialized, its size dwarfing even the dragon. Symbols and runes I didn’t understand spun within its confines, pulsating with raw power.

A moment later, the sky erupted.

A colossal bolt of black lightning struck down with a roar, splitting the heavens as it obliterated the dragon. The force of the strike sent a shockwave rippling outward, leveling buildings and shattering the ground. The dragon didn’t even have time to scream; its body disintegrated, leaving nothing but charred fragments in its wake.

The lightning faded, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was silence.

I collapsed to my knees, my breathing ragged. My body felt like it was made of lead, my limbs trembling as I struggled to remain upright. The ruined city around me was still, the ash and dust settling in the aftermath of the destruction. I let myself fall back against a crumbled wall, my head tilting toward the sky.

Ten minutes. That was all I needed. Just ten minutes to rest.

But the world didn’t allow me even that.

The ground trembled beneath me, faint at first but growing stronger with each passing second. I forced myself to sit up, my head pounding as I scanned the horizon. Shadows emerged from the wreckage, grotesque forms that twisted and writhed as they moved. Monsters—hundreds of them, each one more terrifying than the last.

They came in all shapes and sizes: hulking beasts with jagged armor-like scales, serpentine creatures that slithered with unsettling speed, winged abominations that blotted out the already darkened sky. Their eyes glowed with a predatory hunger, their snarls and roars blending into a cacophony of chaos.

I tried to stand, but my legs gave out beneath me. My mana was almost entirely depleted, and my body screamed in protest as I forced myself to my feet. The sword on my back felt heavier than ever, and the thought of fighting even one of these creatures made my stomach churn.

But there was no escape.

The first monster lunged, a massive beast with a maw of razor-sharp teeth. I barely managed to raise my hand, a feeble spell forming on instinct. The fireball I conjured was pitiful, barely strong enough to singe its flesh. The beast shrugged it off and swiped at me with a massive claw, sending me crashing into a nearby wall.

Pain erupted through my body, but I gritted my teeth and pushed myself up. Another spell, another attack, but it was useless. The monsters kept coming, their numbers overwhelming, their strength insurmountable.

And then I died.

The pain was excruciating, unlike anything I’d felt before. It wasn’t just physical—it was as if my very soul was being ripped apart, burned and shredded until nothing remained. My screams echoed in the ruined city, mixing with the roars of the monsters as they tore me to pieces.

When the darkness finally claimed me, I welcomed it.

But it didn’t last. I woke again, gasping for air, my body drenched in sweat. The lake stretched out before me, tranquil and mocking. My hands trembled as I clutched the damp grass, my mind still reeling from the agony of my death.

I stared at the water, my reflection distorted by the ripples. My chest ached, my soul felt fractured, and all I could think about was how tired I was. The ruined world would call me back soon enough, and I would die again.

But for now, I sat in silence, too exhausted to cry, too broken to hope.

“Found You~"

The voice was faint at first, a soft, teasing lilt that barely registered over the ringing in my ears. I ignored it, thinking it just another trick of my sleep-deprived mind.

“Hoshino~”

My head snapped up, my breath hitching. That voice—it couldn’t be. I turned slowly, my body stiff, and there she was. Yuri.

Her pink hair cascaded down to her waist, just like it always had. She stood there, dressed in our high school uniform, her presence so achingly familiar that my chest tightened. I rubbed my eyes, desperate to dispel the image, but when I looked again, she was still there.

“Why…?” My voice cracked, barely audible.

Yuri tilted her head, her usual playful smile tugging at her lips. “What do you mean? Kenzaki is looking for you.”

“Kenzaki…?” The name felt foreign on my tongue, like it belonged to someone I used to know in another life.

“Why?” I asked again, the question more for myself than for her.

She laughed softly, the sound like shattered glass in my mind. “Ehh… Isn’t that obvious? We’re just looking for our friend.”

Her words cut through me. ‘Friend?’ The concept felt alien, distant, like a faded photograph of a memory I could no longer reach.

“Who?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

Yuri blinked, her smile faltering for a moment. “You! You moron.”

I shook my head, unable to comprehend. “Why?”

Yuri let out an exaggerated sigh, as if exasperated by my stupidity. She stepped closer and sat down beside me, her presence impossibly warm. “Because look at you.”

Her words made my stomach twist, a knot of shame and confusion coiling tighter and tighter. I turned toward the lake, my reflection rippling in the water. Empty.

My eyes weren’t my own. They were pure black, void of irises, pupils—any sign of life. Just an abyss staring back at me, hollow and consuming.

“Hey…” Yuri’s voice was softer now, gentle in a way that made my throat tighten.

“Mmm.” It was the only response I could manage.

“Are you really okay?”

Her question hung in the air, cutting deeper than any blade ever could. Was I okay? What kind of cruel joke was that? The corners of my mouth twitched, and I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace.

“I’m fine,” I lied, my voice as steady as I could make it. “It’s all okay.”

Yuri didn’t buy it. Her eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering across her face, but she didn’t push. Instead, she stood up and stretched out her hand to me.

“Now, let’s go home.”

I stared at her hand, my fingers twitching to take it. For the first time in what felt like eternity, I reached out—but the moment my fingertips brushed hers, she faded away.

Gone.

There was no warmth, no lingering presence. Just the cold, damp air and the unyielding silence of the lake.

“No.” The word tumbled from my lips, barely a whisper. “No, no, no.”

My chest tightened, and the world spun. I scrambled to my feet, the grass slick beneath me, and shouted, “YURI!”

Only silence answered.

My knees buckled, and I collapsed back onto the ground, my body trembling. Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and unrelenting, as I clutched my head.

“Why?!” I screamed, my voice cracking under the weight of my despair. “Why are you doing this to me?!”

I didn’t even know who I was yelling at—God, fate, the cruel mechanism that kept resetting my world. Maybe it didn’t matter.

The sobs came harder, wracking my entire body. My nails dug into my scalp, and I rocked back and forth, trying to ground myself in the pain. It wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

My mind raced, spiraling into fragments of thought that I couldn’t hold onto. It’s not real. It can’t be real.But then why did it hurt so much?

“You liar,” I muttered to no one, my voice shaking. “You said we were friends. You said you were looking for me. But you’re gone. You left. Everyone leaves.”

The tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t care. My throat ached from screaming, my chest felt like it was caving in, and all I could do was cry.

Time passed in a haze, the moon above reflecting on the lake like a bloodstain on water. My mind fractured further with every passing second, the edges of my sanity crumbling.

I thought of Yuri’s face, her smile, her warmth. I thought of how she disappeared, how I couldn’t even hold onto her. My chest tightened again, and a fresh wave of sobs tore through me.

“Why won’t it stop?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The night dragged on, and I lay there, broken and empty, the weight of my despair crushing me. The stars above blurred together, forming patterns I couldn’t recognize, and the crimson moon glared down like a cruel overseer.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I couldn’t stay like this. The world wouldn’t let me. But for now, I didn’t care.

All I wanted was for the pain to stop. But it didn’t. It never did.

Yeah, it was just foolish of me to believe it was real.

The words echoed in my mind, heavy and unrelenting. Each syllable felt like it was chiseling away at the last fragments of my sanity. What was I expecting? A miracle? Some kind of salvation?

It was foolish of me to believe in hope.

Hope. That poisonous word. It dangled in front of me like a cruel joke, always out of reach, always slipping through my fingers. Hope was a lie. Hope was pain. And yet, like an idiot, I’d clung to it. I’d let myself believe—even for a moment—that Yuri was real, that she’d come back for me, that someone actually cared.

I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to block out the thoughts, but they kept coming, relentless and sharp. My chest ached, and my head throbbed. I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t escape myself.

I just want to rest.

The thought was soft, almost gentle, but it hit me harder than any magic spell ever could. Rest. A concept so simple, yet so unattainable. I’d forgotten what it felt like. Was there even such a thing as peace for someone like me? Or was I doomed to keep running, fighting, dying—over and over, without end?

I am too tired.

The admission slipped out like a confession, and my shoulders sagged under the weight of it.

Too tired.

It wasn’t just my body that was exhausted; it was everything. My mind, my soul, my very being—it was all crumbling, falling apart piece by piece. Every breath felt like a burden, every heartbeat a reminder that I was still trapped in this nightmare.

What was the point?

I stared up at the sky, my vision blurring as tears welled up again. The crimson moon hung ominously above me, its massive form almost mocking in its beauty. It shouldn’t be beautiful. It should be terrifying, horrifying. And yet, I couldn’t look away.

The stars twinkled faintly around it, unfamiliar constellations painting a canvas I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t my world. It wasn’t Earth. But it was... beautiful.

My lips trembled as a bitter laugh escaped me. “Beautiful,” I muttered, the word tasting like ash on my tongue.

The universe didn’t care about me. The moon, the stars, the endless void—they just existed, indifferent to my suffering. And maybe that was why they were beautiful.

I closed my eyes for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. My thoughts swirled, chaotic and fragmented.

Would it ever stop?

Would the pain, the exhaustion, the endless cycle of death and despair—would it ever end?

Somehow, I already knew the answer. No. It wouldn’t. Not for me. Not for someone like me.

I let out a shaky breath, my hands trembling as I pulled my knees to my chest. The tears came again, unbidden and unstoppable, streaming down my face as I buried my head in my arms.

“I just want to rest,” I whispered to the silence around me.

But the silence didn’t answer. It never did.

"I'll be okay," I whispered, though the words felt like shards of glass scraping my throat. My voice cracked, barely audible over the pounding in my chest.

I pressed my forehead to my knees, trying to steady the tremble in my hands. The weight of everything bore down on me, crushing, suffocating, and yet... I forced the lie out anyway.

"Just... leave me alone."

My breath hitched, a sob clawing its way up, but I swallowed it back, choking on the lump in my throat. The silence was deafening, the emptiness surrounding me an oppressive void.

"I'll be fine," I repeated, as if saying it enough times would make it true. But the words tasted bitter, hollow, like ash on my tongue.

The tears came, hot and stinging, but I refused to let them fall. Not again. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, gripping my arms so tightly I thought my nails would break the skin.

Why couldn’t they just leave me? Why couldn’t the voices, the visions, the memories—why couldn’t they stop tormenting me?

“I’ll be okay...” I muttered again, the lie sounding weaker every time. My chest ached, my body felt like it was tearing itself apart, and my soul—whatever was left of it—was screaming for release.

The words hung in the air, unanswered, unacknowledged. They were a plea, not to anyone else but to myself. But no matter how many times I said it, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself, I knew the truth.

I wasn’t okay.

I wasn’t fine.

And I didn’t think I ever would be.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I stared at the ground, my vision blurry from the tears I refused to shed. The ache in my chest grew sharper, spreading through me like a poison, and yet... I stayed there, frozen in place.

"Just... leave me alone," I whispered again, the words shaking as they left my lips. My voice cracked, barely holding together, just like me.

But there was no one to leave me alone. No one to hear my broken words. Just the silence.

And maybe that was the cruelest part of all.

I am just too tried.....

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Author's Note: Caught up to scribble hub chapters. Now updates will be slower since managing two websites is a pain.The novel is still called: Beyond Infinity on scribble hub.