Ren slowly sank into that beautiful vision, into the world the voice was weaving around him, a world as gentle as water embracing a weary body, softly drawing him into the arms of peace.
The walls of reality cracked, fragments falling away, dissolving into the void, making way for a flawless scene, a place without pain, without endless battles, without the feeling of being abandoned in the cold darkness. Only a tender light remained, wrapping around him like a beckoning embrace.
His hand reached out, trembling fingers brushing against the floating images before him, so close, so achingly close, that it felt like just a little more… just a little more… and everything he had never had would become real.
A full meal.
A rich aroma enveloped him, stirring a deep, gnawing hunger from the pit of his stomach.
Golden loaves of bread, their crusts crisp yet soft and tender inside.
A steaming bowl of soup, its warmth curling upward in wisps of comfort. Roasted meat, juicy and fragrant, promising that just one bite would melt away all the fatigue with its savory richness.
No more days dragging himself forward on an empty stomach.
No more dryness in his throat.
No more waking with a start in the grip of hunger.
A home.
No more curling up beneath a thin sheet on freezing winter nights.
No more icy winds slipping through every crack.
No more sleeping on cold, unforgiving ground.
A room appeared before him, small, but warm. A golden light spilled across wooden walls, bathing everything in the gentle glow of a hearth on a winter's night.
A soft bed. Neatly arranged pillows and blankets. Everything so perfect that with just one step, he could fall into it and sleep, deeply, peacefully, without fear.
Loved ones.
They stood there, just beyond the door, smiling, eyes filled with warmth and tenderness.
They called his name, the familiar sound echoing through the air, pulling him from the loneliness that had wrapped around his soul.
They didn't leave.
They didn't vanish.
They weren't torn from him by time or cruel fate.
A hand reached out to him, a warm hand, a hand he had never dared to believe he could hold.
A family.
Warmth spread through his chest. A comforting sensation. A longing so intense it nearly stole his breath.
Everything felt too real.
Too perfect.
Too…
Flawless.
His heartbeat began to slow. The tension in his muscles eased, as though all the pain, strain, and exhaustion he had carried for so long was finally being let go.
No more weight on his shoulders.No more fears haunting his every step.
All he had to do was accept.
All he had to do was give in.
All he had to do was…
Let go.
Ren suddenly remembered the story Yuna once told him:
"Do you know why that soldier gave up all his glory to return to his homeland and live as a farmer again?"
Because there are things that, once lost, no amount of glory or triumphs can fill the emptiness they leave behind. Not fame. Not wealth. But something much simpler, familiarity.
The feeling of calloused hands digging through soil under the golden afternoon sun, the scent of damp earth mingled with the sting of sweat.
The feeling of a breeze brushing past the old rooftop, carrying the fragrance of ripened rice, wrapping around his skin with a peace that could never be found amidst bloody battles.
The feeling of footsteps along the winding path home, worn leather shoes rubbing against the dirt, tiny pebbles rolling beneath the soles, so familiar that he could walk it with his eyes closed.
None of it was glorious, dazzling, or radiant… but it was home.
Because no matter how far one travels, how long one fights, how used they grow to danger and bloodshed… deep inside, people always long to return to the place they truly belong.
But…
The vision before him offered none of that.
Lavish meals were laid out before him, steaming hot, deliciously fragrant, but strangely unfamiliar. He didn't know who made them, or who had placed them in front of him.
A warm room, soft light casting a gentle glow across wooden walls, but it wasn't a place he had ever slept in, no familiar scratches on the floor he could remember making with his own hands.
People smiled at him, hands reaching out warmly… but they were too perfect, too whole. None of their faces were etched into his memory.
The world that voice painted… was too beautiful, too ideal, and too alien.
Not a single breeze there carried the breath of freedom.
Not a single trace proved he had ever belonged in that place.
Whether he stayed or vanished, it would make no difference.
There was no place for him there.
Then Ren remembered the look in Tarek's eyes just before he died.
It wasn't death under Ren's blade.
It wasn't a dissolution into red pixel fragments like so many other enemies.
He was left behind.
Trapped deep in the dungeon's lowest floor, body paralyzed by the very poison he had used to force Ren into poisoning others.
He couldn't flee.
He couldn't resist.
All he could do was lie there, waiting.
Waiting for the monster to come and tear him apart.
Ren remembered that moment. The moment he turned his back and walked away from the man who had once been his worst nightmare.
He had won.
He had survived.
He had walked out of hell.
But… Tarek's eyes at that moment…
What had he expected? Hatred? Rage? A curse uttered with his last breath?
But no.
He looked at Ren.
Not with simple hatred.
Not with simple blame.
In those fading eyes, there was something… far beyond.
Relief.
Release.
And…
A glint of approval.
As if… he had been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.
As if… he had known this would be the end.
As if… he was telling Ren:
"Well done."
"You finally did it."
A chill ran down Ren's spine.
He didn't understand.
Or rather… he didn't want to understand.
"The one strong enough to face themselves will find the path to the light."
Ren murmured, each syllable echoing into the silence like a curse carved into the soul.
That was the phrase that had pushed him into hell.
The phrase that had forced him to confront everything he'd been afraid to face, his fears, his weakness, the wounds that never healed.
It had shattered him. Drowned him.
But it was also…
The only thread that pulled him back from the abyss of despair.
He opened his eyes.
And realized the perfect illusion before him was falling apart.
The warm walls trembled, cracking like a fractured mirror.
The gentle images, the full table, the cozy home, the familiar faces, blurred, splintered, then shattered into glowing fragments, spinning into the void like petals swept away by a violent storm.
The delicious scent of food faded, leaving behind a cold hollowness in his chest.
The warmth vanished.
The hand he'd once reached toward, believing he could almost touch it…
Now, all he could feel was emptiness.
A freezing wind swept through him, piercing his body like he too was just a fleeting illusion on the verge of fading away.
Then, the entire false world… collapsed. Ren slowly opened his eyes.
The space around him was dim and hazy, but he immediately sensed something was wrong.
A cold shiver ran down his spine the moment his awareness returned, a silent terror tightening around his chest.
His breath caught in his throat, not from pain, not from exhaustion, but from something… slimy.
Something was clinging to his body.
The sensation slithered across every inch of his skin, spreading like a filthy, freezing membrane, enveloping him as though he had been swallowed by something that didn't belong to this world.
It was revolting. So heavy it sent every nerve screaming. He could feel it, something moving. Crawling. Bit by bit.
Limp.
Slippery.
Hundreds of tiny tendrils clung to his flesh, creeping slowly, never letting go.
A faint moan.
The chilling sound echoed right beside his ear, as if the creature was whispering something incomprehensible, wet, guttural words blending with its ragged breathing.
Hot, moist breath blew against his skin, carrying a stench so foul it turned his stomach, a sickening rot, like decayed corpses mixed with the scent of damp, rotting earth.
He looked down.
And saw it.
A worm.
A massive creature with bloated, glossy skin, swollen like a cocoon about to burst, rising and falling with every slow breath, as if a single touch would make it explode, spewing the vile slime hidden inside. But what terrified him most wasn't its size or revolting skin.
It was the holes.
Countless.
Scattered across its entire body.
Pitch-black.
Empty.
Like gouged-out eyes, or doorways to endless voids. They didn't stay still—they pulsed rhythmically, as if breathing, as if watching him, observing his every tiny movement.
And from those holes…
A faint white mist seeped out.
But it wasn't mist.
It was something far worse.
Thick.
Suffocating.
Lingering in the air like invisible threads, weaving into every fold of his clothes, every pore, every breath he took.
An overwhelming sense of suffocation gripped him, as though the air itself had been drained away, leaving only that toxic fog invading his lungs, slowly creeping in, trying to fill him with a breath of nothingness.
Ren felt his stomach twist in knots.
No, it wasn't just nausea, it was something deeper, something primal. A fear that came from the most ancient corners of instinct.
He didn't dare to move.
Didn't dare to breathe too hard.
Didn't dare to do anything that might draw the creature's attention.
Only the faint hiss of the mist lingered near his ears, circling him like a whisper from the dark.
This thing...
When had it latched onto him?
And more importantly...
What was it doing to him?