Despair Syndrome (3)

The dusk was approaching, the rain still falling steadily. It hit the ground with tiny splashes, each droplet merging into puddles that reflected the distorted blue giant sun above. The sky was a painting of unnatural colors: indigos, teals, and the faint glow of a supermassive black hole on the horizon, consuming everything in its path.

The sun shouldn’t still be shining, yet it was. A blue giant, the largest a star can become before collapsing into oblivion, was casting its eerie light across this broken world. The black hole loomed closer, swallowing stars and constellations in slow, inevitable gulps.

Why?
How?
When?

I didn’t know.

I didn’t know much anymore. Not about this world. Not about the cycles. Not about myself.

But I did know one thing: my life was about to end.

My miserable, ceaseless existence—this everlasting cycle of pain and suffering—was about to meet its conclusion. My mind couldn’t take it anymore. My body couldn’t take it anymore.

At first, the loops were brief—five minutes, maybe less. But I had found a way to shorten them, a grim little trick of my own design. Suicide. Over and over again, until the loop contracted into nothingness. It became a game of milliseconds, an effort to regain control in a world that refused to give me any.

The first time I died, it took three seconds to reset. Then two. Then one. Then 0.1 seconds.

And yet, no matter how many times I ended my own life, no matter how quickly I reset, the pain was always there. The pain of burning alive, of being torn apart, of drowning in blood and agony—it was unbearable at first. But like all things, I adapted. I numbed myself to the screams, to the tearing of flesh, to the sensation of my own death.

But there’s one kind of pain you can’t numb yourself to.

Soul pain.

There’s no description for it. No analogy, no comparison. Physical pain is a spark, a fleeting thing that fades the moment you die. Soul pain? It’s a fire that doesn’t extinguish. It burns infinitely, consuming you from the inside out.

Every time I died, I felt my soul chip away. Every loop damaged it further, left it more fractured, more broken. It was like being ripped apart at an atomic level, every fiber of my being screaming in agony. And no matter how many times I reset, no matter how many times I tried to numb myself, the soul pain remained.

If I could quantify it, I’d say it was a quintillion times worse than dying. Maybe more. Maybe infinite.

It was the kind of pain that didn’t just hurt—it unraveled you. It made you question if you were even real anymore.

The puddles reflected the blue sun and the encroaching black hole, their shapes distorted by ripples from the rain. I stared at them for what felt like hours, watching the world blur and twist beneath the surface.

I didn’t feel like a person anymore. I felt like a puppet, a hollow shell dragged along by invisible strings. My body moved, but my mind screamed at it to stop.

I’m tired.

The thought echoed in my head, over and over again.

I remember the first time I tried to end it all. It was after Kenzaki disappeared. Or maybe he never existed to begin with. I don’t know anymore. The loops blur everything together, make it hard to separate reality from memory.

But I do remember the hopelessness. The crushing weight of knowing that no matter what I did, no matter how many monsters I killed or villages I passed through, it would all reset. Everything would start over, and I’d be back at the lake, staring at my own reflection in the water.

What’s the point?

The question haunted me. It was louder than the rain, louder than the screams of the monsters I killed, louder than the whispers of my hallucinations.

What’s the point of surviving when there’s no end?

I gripped my sword tighter, the hilt slick with rainwater. The blade was chipped and dull from overuse, but it still did the job. Monsters fell beneath its weight like leaves in the wind.

Dragons.
Rabbits.
Slimes.
Goblins.
Ogres.
Giants.
Trees that whispered my name before lunging at me with twisted branches.
Shadows that consumed everything they touched.

They all died. They all reset. And they all came back.

The rain dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision. My body ached from days—weeks? months?—without proper rest. Sleep deprivation had become a constant companion, its weight pressing down on my shoulders like an iron shroud.

I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but it didn’t matter. Food wouldn’t fix this. Nothing would.

I stopped in my tracks, staring at the horizon where the black hole consumed the stars. I thought of my parents, their voices echoing in my head like a cruel parody of love.

“You should’ve never existed.”
“You’re a burden.”
“We never wanted you.”

The words weren’t real. They couldn’t be real. My parents were dead. They had been dead for years.

But the memories were real enough.

I thought of the orphanage, of the other kids who stared at me with pity and fear. They called me the quiet one, the strange one. They whispered behind my back, their words cutting deeper than they realized.

I thought of my favorite character—Sans. The lazy skeleton with his bad jokes and his tired eyes. I used to admire him, used to think he had it all figured out. But now I understood him in a way I never wanted to.

Sans wasn’t lazy. He was exhausted.

Just like me.

A tear slipped down my cheek, mingling with the rain. I wiped it away, only for another to fall.

The black hole grew larger on the horizon, its edges shimmering with light as it devoured the world. The blue sun burned brightly, its light casting long shadows across the landscape.

I felt something deep in my chest—a pull, a whisper of finality.

Maybe this time it’ll be different.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The rain continued to fall, each droplet a reminder of the passage of time.

I’m tired.

The words repeated in my head, a soft, endless echo.

I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m tired.

I kept having hallucinations.

My consciousness wavered.

And i my eyed Finally closed with my falling to the ground.

Witn the rain still falling, my eyes still wet from the tears.

I was back in the ruined world.

The rain kept falling. It soaked my clothes, plastered my hair to my face, and ran in rivulets down my cheeks. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized my tears were still flowing, mingling with the rain. But the exhaustion dulled everything else.

I kept having hallucinations.

The faces of my parents, my friends, my lover—they flickered in the corners of my vision, their voices murmuring cruel truths and half-remembered lies. The words came and went, as fleeting as the rain splattering against my skin.

"You shouldn't have existed."
"You're nothing."
"Why do you keep going?"

I wanted to tell them to stop, but I couldn’t muster the energy. My consciousness wavered, shifting between lucidity and a foggy haze. The lines between reality and illusion blurred into nothing.

---

Finally, my body gave in. My legs buckled, and I fell to the ground.

My eyes fluttered shut, the cold rain kissing my skin as the world around me faded.

And when I opened them again, I was back in the ruined world.

---

The landscape was as desolate as ever. A barren wasteland of ash and shattered stone stretched endlessly, the sky above a swirling storm of black and red.

The familiar weight of my sword hung at my side. My hands gripped the hilt, the rough leather wrapping digging into my skin. My body moved on instinct, each motion slow and mechanical.

The rabbits came first. The same ones as always. Their glowing red eyes and unnaturally long claws tore at the ground as they charged toward me.

I didn’t hesitate. The spell came as easily as breathing.

“Burn.”

A single word, whispered under my breath. A flash of blue fire erupted from my hands, engulfing the creatures. Their shrieks echoed through the wasteland before fading into silence.

It was over in seconds.

Then the dragon appeared. Its massive wings blocked out what little light remained, its scales glinting like molten metal.

I didn’t feel fear. I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel anything.

But I wanted it to suffer.

“Die.”

I summoned the spell again, this time twisting it into something cruel. The blue fire transformed, its edges darkening into a searing black flame. The dragon roared in pain as the fire consumed it, its death slower, more agonizing than before.

But the other monsters came next, as they always did.

Goblins, slimes, ogres, and giants surged forward, their grotesque forms twisting and shifting as they advanced.

I felt nothing.

But I knew one thing: the longer I fought, the longer I had to rest.

A massive magic circle formed beneath my feet, its edges glowing with an ominous crimson light. I raised my hand, my voice low and cold.

“Move, and you’re dead.”

The creatures didn’t listen.

They moved, and sharp, jagged bones erupted from the ground, impaling them one by one. Their blood painted the landscape, soaking into the already stained earth.

But more came.

“Breathe, and you’re dead.”

They moved again.

Knives materialized in the air, hundreds of them, their blades glinting with a black and crimson aura. With a flick of my wrist, the knives flew toward the monsters, piercing their flesh. Each impact created a shockwave, scattering limbs and pieces of their grotesque bodies across the wasteland.

And yet, they kept coming.

“Hanakeil,”I muttered.

A black scythe materialized in my hands, its curved blade glinting with a faint blue hue.

It felt heavy, yet familiar, like it had always belonged to me.

I moved forward.

The scythe cut through the monsters effortlessly, its edge sharper than anything I’d ever wielded. Each swing left a trail of darkness in its wake, the air itself seeming to shatter under its weight.

The goblins fell first, their twisted forms collapsing into heaps of ash.

The ogres followed, their massive bodies splitting apart with each strike.

The slimes and giants barely had time to react before the scythe tore through them, their screams swallowed by the void it left behind.

The trees came next, their branches lashing out like living whips. Their twisted faces sneered at me, their voices whispering my name.

“Why do you keep fighting?”
“Why not just let it end?”

I ignored them.

The scythe cut through their bark, their twisted forms splintering into pieces.

Then came the shadows.

They moved like liquid, their shapes shifting and changing as they advanced. Their presence consumed the light around them, leaving only darkness in their wake.

I swung the scythe, but the shadows reformed, their bodies coalescing into something even more grotesque.

It didn’t matter.

I kept swinging, over and over again, until the shadows finally dispersed, their forms dissolving into the air.

And still, the monsters kept coming.

My body ached, my muscles burning with each movement. My vision blurred, the edges of the world twisting and fading.

But I kept fighting.

Because the longer I fought, the longer I had to rest.

The rain continued to fall, even here in the ruined world. It soaked the ground, mingling with the blood and ash.

My scythe dripped with black ichor, its blade glinting faintly in the dim light.

I didn’t know how long I had been fighting. Minutes? Hours? Days?

It didn’t matter.

I stood in the center of the wasteland, surrounded by the broken remains of the creatures I had slain. My body swayed, exhaustion threatening to pull me under.

But I didn’t stop.

Because the longer I fought, the longer I had to rest.

The fight against the vampire was a blur, a whirlwind of crimson shadows and piercing pain. Blood – not mine – twisted unnaturally in the air, sharp as blades. The vampire’s laughter echoed as its claws tore into me, its weaponized blood piercing through my body like jagged spears.

The last thing I felt was the searing pain of my soul being punctured, the unbearable agony far worse than any physical wound.

I jolted awake, gasping. My body was heavy, my limbs sluggish. The world around me was unfamiliar – clean wooden walls, the faint smell of herbal medicine, and soft, dim lighting. Bandages were wrapped tightly around my torso, arms, and legs. I touched them, feeling their texture beneath my fingers.

I hated it. The suffocating constraint, the itch of fabric against my skin. It was annoying. Without hesitation, I began ripping the bandages off, ignoring the sting as they peeled away from half-healed wounds. The faint smell of blood lingered as I threw the scraps aside.

Once free, I staggered to my feet, my legs unsteady but functional. My eyes darted around the room, searching for anything recognizable. Instead, I found only stillness – an unnatural calm.

A faint sound echoed in the distance. Footsteps.

I froze, my instincts kicking in.

From the doorway, a silhouette appeared, its form hazy in the dim light. It moved closer, the sound of its steps growing louder, deliberate and unhurried.

“Move, and you’re dead.” My voice was cold, emotionless.

A dozen crimson knives materialized in the air around me, glowing faintly in the dim room. The edges of the blades shimmered with a volatile energy, ready to launch at the slightest provocation.

The figure paused but didn’t retreat. Instead, it raised its arms in a gesture of surrender.

“Is that how you repay a favor?” a smooth, calm voice replied.

As the figure stepped closer, the dim light illuminated his features. He had sharp, angular features, black hair that fell messily around his face, and piercing eyes that seemed to hold secrets. He was undeniably handsome, though I smugly noted that he wasn’t more striking than me.

“...Who?” I asked cautiously, my eyes narrowing.

“Me?” He tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, I’m Accel V— Ah, forget that last part. Just call me Accel.”

I didn’t lower the knives, narrowing my eyes further.

Accel seemed unfazed. “You’re a tough one to help, huh?”

“Help?” I echoed, skepticism dripping from my voice.

“You don’t remember, do you? Figures.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Never mind the details. Put the knives down, will you?”

“Sure.” I snapped my fingers, and the crimson knives shimmered before glitching out of existence.

Accel arched an eyebrow. “That’s... quite a skill you’ve got there.”

“Dunno,” I replied with a shrug, feigning indifference.

A system window appeared in my peripheral vision, displaying:

[Skill Acquired: Omniscient and Omnipotent]
Description: An ability granting unparalleled mastery and knowledge of all domains. Power limited only by imagination.

I waved it away dismissively, uninterested in its implications. “What’s for dinner?”

We ate in relative silence, though Accel occasionally tried to strike up a conversation. I offered half-hearted responses, more focused on my empty stomach than his questions.

The food was decent – some sort of stew with bread – but I barely tasted it. My thoughts lingered on the dream, the battles, and the vampire’s laughter.

After we finished eating, Accel suggested we stretch our legs. I agreed, though mostly to escape the suffocating confines of the cabin.

The rain was still falling, though only in sparse droplets now. The air was cool and damp, the ground beneath our feet soft with puddles. Each step created a satisfying thud as we walked across the forest floor.

I stared at the horizon, the rain-soaked trees blending into the mist. Something about the endless gray calmed my restless thoughts, though the memories of my hallucinations lingered at the edges of my mind.

Without thinking, I muttered, “Hanakeil.”

The scythe appeared in my right hand as if summoned from the very air. Its design was unlike anything I’d seen before. The handle was forged from an obsidian-like material, veins of glowing blue and crimson light pulsing beneath its surface. The blade was curved and jagged, its edge sharp enough to cut through reality itself. At the tip, a faint blue hue glowed ominously, as if imbued with an otherworldly power. Symbols I didn’t recognize were etched into the blade, their shapes shifting subtly when viewed out of the corner of my eye.

It felt weightless in my grip yet carried an overwhelming presence, as though it demanded to be wielded.

In my left hand, I held the sword I had grown accustomed to. Its weight was familiar, comforting even.

Accel stopped walking, turning to face me. A faint smirk crossed his lips. “Planning to use that?”

I glanced at him, my expression unreadable.

Without a word, Accel extended his hand, and a katana materialized in his grip. The blade shimmered with an intricate pattern of swirling silver and black, its edge razor-sharp. The air around it seemed to hum with a quiet energy, as though it were alive.

He pointed the katana at me, his smirk widening. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I tightened my grip on Hanakeil and lunged forward.

Our weapons clashed, the sound of metal on metal echoing through the forest. Sparks flew as the scythe’s blade met the katana, their opposing energies colliding violently.

Accel moved with precision, his strikes swift and deliberate. Each swing of his katana was calculated, aimed to disarm or incapacitate rather than kill.

I, on the other hand, fought with a reckless abandon. The scythe’s movements were wild and unpredictable, carving through the air with devastating force.

Our battle raged through the forest, the rain continuing to fall around us. Trees splintered and fell as our weapons collided, the ground beneath our feet torn apart by the sheer force of our strikes.

As the fight continued, I couldn’t help but notice the faint smile on Accel’s face.

“You’re holding back,” he said, parrying one of my strikes with ease.

“So are you,” I replied coldly, my voice devoid of emotion.

Accel chuckled. “Fair enough.”

The fight dragged on, neither of us gaining the upper hand. My muscles burned, and my breath came in ragged gasps, but I refused to yield.

Eventually, Accel stepped back, lowering his katana.

“That’s enough for now,” he said, his voice calm.

I hesitated but eventually lowered Hanakeil as well. The scythe disappeared in a flash of light, leaving only the faint echo of its presence.

We stood in silence for a moment, the rain falling softly around us.

“You’re an interesting one, Hoshino,” Accel said, his tone unreadable.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned and began walking, the puddles beneath my feet creating soft splashes with each step.

The rain continued to fall.

And so did the stars.

✧

The rain fell steadily, pooling into darkened puddles that reflected the faint light of the strange blue sun above. The world seemed muffled, an oppressive silence broken only by the occasional splash of water underfoot. Hoshino stopped walking, his head tilting to the side in a strangely unnatural motion. His empty, lifeless eyes stared straight ahead as though piercing through reality itself.

Accel, a few paces behind, watched him cautiously. The man was unpredictable, unsteady. The fight earlier had hinted at strength, but this… This was something else. Something darker.

Hoshino turned, his steps deliberate and slow, but in a moment that defied logic, he began walking backward. The movement wasn’t clumsy; it was deliberate, each step an eerie mimicry of precision. Accel’s brow furrowed as he took a defensive stance, his katana gleaming faintly in the dim rain.

As Hoshino stepped further into the shadows, his body began to change. His black hoodie turned white, threads unraveling and twisting into something ethereal, fluttering like torn banners in the wind. His lifeless black eyes began to weep dark tears that streaked his pale cheeks.

The air grew heavy, oppressive, filled with a static that made it hard to breathe.

Without warning, a million crimson knives materialized around Hoshino, each blade shimmering with a chaotic blend of blue and red aura. They hovered for a moment, their sharp edges vibrating with a sound that was less noise and more an assault on the mind itself. Accel gritted his teeth, gripping his katana tightly as his stance shifted.

“Hoshino,” he called out, his voice steady despite the tension. “You’ve lost control.”

There was no answer.

Hoshino’s lips parted, and a low, almost guttural chuckle escaped, though it didn’t seem to come from him at all. The knives, suspended in the air, pointed toward Accel in unison like a thousand predatory eyes locking onto prey.

The first volley flew.

Accel moved, his katana flashing in rapid arcs as he cut through the onslaught. The knives came in waves, faster than seemed possible, each carrying an energy that distorted the space around them. Some struck the ground, detonating in explosions of crimson light and creating massive shockwaves that obliterated everything within their radius.

The forest around them disintegrated. Trees were uprooted, splintered into shards of wood that rained down like shrapnel. The earth itself trembled, craters forming where the knives landed. Accel danced through the destruction, his movements precise and calculated.

A knife grazed his shoulder, searing his flesh and sending pain radiating through his body. He didn’t flinch. His focus was entirely on Hoshino, who remained at the center of the chaos, unmoving.

With a leap, Accel closed the distance, his katana flashing toward Hoshino’s neck.

Clang!

Hoshino’s scythe appeared out of nowhere, the black blade intercepting Accel’s strike with a deafening clash of metal. Sparks flew as the two weapons met, their wielders locked in a deadly stalemate.

Hoshino’s movements were unrelenting, his strikes wild yet impossibly precise. The scythe moved like an extension of his body, its jagged blade carving through the air with a sound that resonated like a scream. Accel barely managed to deflect each attack, his katana glowing faintly as it absorbed the impact of the blows.

Their battle tore through what remained of the forest. Each clash of their weapons sent shockwaves rippling outward, further obliterating the landscape.

“Hoshino, stop this!” Accel shouted, his voice carrying both frustration and urgency.

But Hoshino didn’t respond. He was lost in his madness, his empty eyes betraying no hint of recognition or humanity.

The knives returned, forming a ring around the combatants before launching inward in a deadly spiral.

Accel moved with inhuman speed, parrying the incoming blades with precise, almost effortless strikes. He weaved through the chaos, his katana a blur as it deflected the storm of knives.

Hoshino lunged forward, his scythe slicing through the air with a force that distorted reality itself. Accel ducked, the blade missing him by mere inches as it cleaved through a massive boulder behind him, reducing it to dust.

The two warriors clashed again, their weapons locking in a deadly embrace. Accel gritted his teeth, pushing against the overwhelming strength of Hoshino’s scythe.

“Is this what you want?!” Accel shouted, his voice strained. “To destroy everything?!”

Hoshino’s lips curled into a twisted smile, his voice barely above a whisper. “Destroy… everything...”

The scythe pulsed with energy, and Accel was forced to leap back as a shockwave erupted from its blade.

Hoshino raised the scythe high above his head, the blade glowing with an otherworldly light. The rain around him froze in midair, each droplet suspended as though time itself had stopped.

Accel watched in horror as the scythe began to descend, its blade tearing through the fabric of reality.

But just as it seemed the world would unravel, Hoshino faltered.

His movements slowed, the scythe slipping from his grasp. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, his body limp and lifeless.

The scythe disappeared, fading into nothingness as Hoshino lay motionless in the rain.

In the ruined world.

Hoshino sat atop a mountain of corpses, the remains of countless monsters piled high around him. Their twisted, broken bodies were drenched in blood, the metallic stench filling the air.

Hoshino stared blankly at the carnage, his lifeless eyes reflecting the crimson pool beneath him.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant sound of something moving in the darkness.

And yet, he didn’t move. He simply sat there, waiting for whatever came next.

The ruined world seemed to hold its breath, teetering on the edge of something unknown.

And then words mattrulized infornt if him.

[Toturial phase completed!]