Both Rhys and Lenny sat opposite each other, enveloped in a silence thick enough to cut. Neither knew quite what to say—at least Rhys didn't. The child across from him didn't seem particularly troubled by the quiet. He was too engrossed in chowing down on what remained of Rhys's leg, tearing sinew from bone with practiced efficiency. The wet sounds of mastication echoed against the cave walls, amplifying the grotesque spectacle.
The sight alone made Rhys's stomach clench and twist. Each bite Lenny took sent phantom pains shooting through his newly regenerated limb, as if some primal part of him still recognized the flesh as his own. It was a violation compounded by the bizarre intimacy of watching someone consume what had once been part of him.
Tired of looking at his own body being devoured, he stood and made his way to the mouth of the cave. Each step away from Lenny felt like reclaiming a small piece of dignity.
Stepping outside, he saw those twin suns glaring down at him like smug deities.
The cool wind blew softly, caressing his face with surprising gentleness. If Rhys had longer hair, it would be swaying around all majestic like.
'Hmm, I know what my next hairstyle is.'
He took an experimental step, testing his new leg. It felt perfect, almost like it had never been gone. The sensation was unsettling in its completeness. No scar, no pain, no weakness to mark what had transpired. Rhys couldn't help but think that his own body conspired with Lenny to pretend nothing had happened.
The chill, calm weather allowed Rhys to organize his thoughts. It's been one crisis after another, so much so that Rhys felt like he had no control over his own actions anymore. A feeling he definitely did not like.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, allowing the cool air to fill his lungs as he methodically revisited recent events.
'Okay, let's start from the beginning...'
The text message regarding the mysterious benefactor had led him to an address in Haloway—an empty, abandoned warehouse with peeling paint and broken windows. In retrospect, that should have been an obvious red flag. It was too random, too convenient. But what if that randomness was precisely the point? What if the address itself wasn't as important as simply getting him to Haloway? If that was the case, then why?
Only one noteworthy thing happened to him in Haloway; the girl on the subway.
Rhys had been drawn to her instantly, almost supernaturally so. Even those bizarre whispers that had materialized in his ear had seemed intent on forcing them to engage in what had become an awkward conversation. His body had reacted on pure instinct to protect her from the Reaper, threatening to tear her apart.
But meeting her was just a random incident… right?
'What if…Nah, forget it.'
Rhys dismissed the thought as it was beginning to take root. But the question still lingered in his subconscious.
While taking a more deliberate look around the Lobby's expansive terrain, his gaze landed on the distant structures that dominated the horizon; massive towers reaching toward the violet sky. Most of them leaned precariously to one side, as if some colossal entity had tried to topple them in a fit of cosmic rage, but had only partially succeeded.
The Abyss was still a massive mystery. Especially with Rhys being an Indie, he had limited access to the already minimal knowledge that was available on the major continents. But even he understood that trials typically had clear conditions—you would instinctively know what task you needed to complete the moment you were thrown into one. Actually surviving long enough to complete that task was another matter entirely.
With him, however, Rhys was simply hurled him into a whole other world with its own convoluted history and inscrutable rules. What exactly was he supposed to do?
Rhys at least had a theory regarding what was happening to his body back in Gehenna. He was almost completely sure it was because of the hollow and blaze he witnessed in the 'in-between'; more specifically, the pressure they exerted on him, pulling him in opposite directions towards each other. Was that his Aspect or…whatever?
'I'm guessing I was pulled back here to prevent me from dying…Permanently.'
The thought was both comforting and disturbing.
After ruminating for several minutes longer, he turned back toward the cave entrance, where Lenny remained seated in the shadows. The boy was still leisurely consuming what remained of Rhys's thigh, biting into it with the casual enjoyment one might show when eating an apple.
"Jesus…" Rhys muttered under his breath. "How much of it is there?"
Feeling Rhys's piercing gaze upon him, Lenny set aside the remaining meat with reluctance. He wiped his hands methodically on the bloodstained cloth.
"I've been careful," Lenny said, suddenly earnest, as if seeking approval.
"Just the extremities. Never anything you'd miss permanently."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"It doesn't? Well, how about this…"
Rhys furrowed his eyebrows at that statement.
'What is this sadist about to say now?'
"I've been studying how fast different parts grow back," Lenny continued, his voice taking on an almost scholarly tone, as if discussing an interesting scientific experiment rather than systematic dismemberment.
"Fingers are quickest—three hours from first cut to full functionality. Feet take longer, about fourteen hours on average. Your legs…" he gestured at Rhys's newly reformed limb with something approaching professional pride:
"Three days. Though the first was much slower than the second. You're getting more efficient."
Rhys stared at the boy, utterly dumbfounded by the casual nature of their conversation. They were actually discussing, with clinical detachment, how Lenny had methodically harvested parts of his body while he lay unconscious. The realization made his stomach lurch dangerously, bile rising in his throat.
'Ignore it,' he told himself fiercely, forcing down the nausea. 'Focus on what's important.'
He closed his eyes momentarily, struggling to keep the disgust and profound sense of violation at bay. When he opened them again, his expression had hardened into something more controlled, more deliberate.
Rhys leaned against the cave wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest as if to hold himself together; physically, mentally, and emotionally. The quiet between them stretched, broken only by the faint scraping sound of Lenny folding the now-empty cloth and tucking it neatly beside him like a lunch napkin.
Rhys opened his mouth and spoke:
"So, you've probably been here for decades, right? You should know what your Aspect's name is."
Lenny blinked slowly.
"I don't know the name. If it has one, no one's told me."
"But you at least know what it does, right?"
Rhys remembered their first encounter. He moved with impossible speed. To his untrained eye, Lenny disappeared and reappeared in front of him with a blade to his neck. Not that one can train to perceive supernatural speeds like that.
Lenny nodded once and replied. The mark on his face pulsing slightly.
"I think it's that I'm able to adapt."
"Adapt?"
Lenny raised one hand. The fingers trembled slightly—still twitching from the feed. Then, with a flicker of concentration, his skin began to shift. Rhys squinted as patches of it turned pale and rough, like bark. Then stone. Then something that shimmered like metal, if only for a moment. It wasn't seamless; the transitions flickered and stuttered like a dying bulb. But it was unmistakable.
"I change to survive," Lenny said simply.
"My skin, bones, eyes, reflexes, lungs—whatever the trial throws at me, my body tries to adjust accordingly. If I burn, I develop resistance to fire. If I fall from great heights, my body becomes lighter or more resilient to impact. If I starve, I digest whatever I can find."
His eyes flicked toward the blood-soaked cloth without shame.
Rhys let out a slow breath, eyeing the boy more closely now.
"That's… actually insane."
Lenny's expression remained neutral.
"Every time I clear a floor, I always exit with some sort of new ability."
Rhys took that in. Then shifted slightly, pushing off the wall.
'What does he mean by floor?'
"What's your trial?" he asked.
There was a pause.
Lenny gestured with his chin toward the cave's mouth, toward the distant horizon beyond.
"The towers you see outside. I'm supposed to clear them. One by one."
Rhys's brow furrowed. "Towers?"
He thought back to the massive structures he'd observed earlier; colossal silhouettes leaning against the violet sky in the far distance, their forms both imposing and somehow melancholy.
"Those are real?"
Realising how idiotic he sounded, he added:
"I thought they were just… part of the scenery or something."
"As real as anything here," Lenny said. "Each is almost like its own world, separated into a hundred floors each."
"Like a video game?"
The boy paused at Rhys's inquiry.
"The same one I was playing before I woke up here."
Rhys maintained a stoic expression, but inside, he was absolutely freaking out!
'That's cool as hell and terrifying at the same time.'
"The ones you see tipped over are the ones that I cleared long back. All except one."
Something in the way he said it—flat and tired—made Rhys narrow his eyes.
"What about the last one?"
Lenny's mouth tensed. For once, he hesitated.
"I fail. Every…single… time."
Rhys didn't press. The way Lenny's eyes dropped to the cave floor said everything. He wasn't avoiding the question out of secrecy, but because even he didn't fully understand. Or maybe it just hurt too much to talk about.
Silence again.
'Wait, this trial seems oddly specific to Lenny. Especially after he said it's the exact same video game he was playing. Then what am I doing here?'
Just then, the doors he saw in the in-between flashed in his mind. What was that for?
'Ugh, I can't be having these existential thoughts while sober,' he thought wryly. 'I desperately need a drink.'
Rhys turned his gaze outward toward the bizarre horizon once more. The impossibly beautiful sky glowed with otherworldly hues of violet and crimson, creating an alien sunset that somehow managed to be both breath-taking and deeply unsettling. The distant towers leaned at impossible angles, as if waiting for acknowledgment—sentinels marking the boundaries of this fractured reality.
Everything about this place screamed a fundamental lack of order or logic. No rules to follow, no guides to consult, no coherent system to navigate. Just pure, undiluted chaos masquerading as a world.
And he was tired of reacting to it.
'So what am I supposed to do?'
He started out looking for the Benefactor but ended up in the Abyss instead. Rhys wasn't sure what his trial was; hell, he wasn't even sure he was still human. For all he knew, he'd died twice already.
'I've been thrown across worlds, stitched back together like meat, tossed into prisons, nearly eaten alive, and now I'm just… floating in someone else's hell. With no goal or path.'
The realization that had been clawing at the back of his mind since the mountain finally caught up with him: He wasn't in control of his life anymore.
Rhys clenched his jaw. 'No more.'
He turned back to Lenny. The kid looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.
"I'll help you clear that last tower," Rhys said.
Lenny's eyes widened slightly. "You will?"
"I don't even know what my trial is," Rhys muttered. "But I'm stuck here, and helping you is better than sitting in a cave watching you nibble on my femur."
The kid gave a half-smile at that.
Rhys stepped toward the cave entrance again, looking out at the twisted skyline of the Abyss.
"I might die," he said. "But at least it'll be my decision."
Lenny was quiet for a long moment. Then he stood and nodded.
"Alright. But if you die, I'm harvesting what's left."
Rhys didn't flinch at the morbid condition. "Fair."
And for the first time in what felt like forever, he moved forward not because the world shoved him…but because he chose to step.