In Noah's room, he closed the door behind him so that Yserie wouldn't check in and find him in a similar state. He also shut the window and drew the curtains—just a small precaution for reassurance—before stretching out on his comfortable bed and sinking his head into the soft pillow. He stared at the ceiling, trying to focus his gaze on a single point despite the trembling of his pupils. Then he drew in a deep breath, steadied himself, placed a hand on his chest, forced a tense smile, and closed his eyes.
"Activate special training," Noah whispered softly.
At once, he felt his breath shatter. He found himself drowning in a bottomless abyss, air fleeing from his body as water filled it. He could not move, see, or hear. Yet he was certain that what surrounded him was water—though it was so dense it felt like ink. Then warmth enveloped him, like a mother's embrace. Oddly, this time he did not resist the feeling, unlike the first time. Soon he felt solid ground beneath him, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in the middle of a vast green field stretching into the horizon under the clear sky. He noticed the towering tree—his companion that had protected him many times. Everything was in its place, exactly as he had left it. Only now, he could finally sense the importance of this calm before the storm broke upon him.
"It will be different this time… I hope so," Noah thought, clenching his fist in nervous tension.
And then, the nightmare materialized once more. The spiritual bull appeared, six feet tall, with coarse red skin and long pointed horns. Its eyes were hidden behind thick hair, but even through that veil, their intensity and thirst for blood were obvious. Its back was turned to Noah, sniffing the earth and tearing at the fresh grass. How ironic—the very creature that once ripped Noah's flesh while he was still alive, that hunted humans for sport like some primitive instinct, had grass as its favorite food.
Noah's body trembled slightly at the sight of the bull. He stepped back carefully, his foot sliding over the grass so as not to make a sound that might attract its attention. But sooner or later, he knew it would sense him.
"At least only one appeared, not a whole herd. I killed one before, so I can do it again, right? Should I use the same method? Should I just run away silently—" Noah's thoughts scattered in panic, his unblinking eyes fixed on the bull's movements. But when his focus slipped for just a moment, and he returned to himself, his body froze in horror. The bull was still grazing, yet its hateful, malicious eyes were now locked directly on him.
Noah swallowed so hard it felt stuck in his throat. Sweat slid from his forehead to his cheeks and dripped onto the ground beneath him. He stared into the bull's eyes, gripped by confusion and fear. Then it snorted violently, blasting air from its nostrils and scattering the grass below, before beginning its slow, deliberate advance toward him.
"Damn it!" Noah gritted his teeth, retreating while keeping his hand stretched forward to maintain some distance between them.
Suddenly, the spiritual bull charged at him with full force, launching like a rocket, its sharp horns aimed straight for Noah's chest. But in that fleeting instant, Noah saw three bulls before him—or rather, he saw the bull moving in slow motion, with two faint bodies ahead of it, as if showing its future movements. Without a second thought, Noah leapt in panic to the side, narrowly dodging the monster. He crashed to the ground, curling up in pain, while the bull skidded ahead, trying to slow and turn. Noah seized the chance and dashed toward the tree, hoping to repeat his previous strategy. Yet his mind wasn't on tactics—it was on what he had just seen.
"What was that?! I can't believe it! It was like I saw its next moves! D-did I just see the future?! H-how?!" His thoughts raced in terror as he ran, body screaming with effort, desperate to reach the tree. Then it hit him—the reward he had once received: the skill Foresight.
Noah's lips curved upward in a faint smile. A strange, overwhelming joy surged through him. Was this elation just because his skill had finally activated? No, it was something different. The feeling was brand-new, like handing ice cream to a child for the very first time.
But it didn't last. He noticed the bull had turned back onto his trail, galloping after him with ravenous hunger. Its tongue lolled out, saliva splattering the ground with each step. Yet Noah was no longer afraid—he had already reached the towering tree. By sheer luck, he spotted a protrusion: a separate trunk-like branch jutting out from the base. Unlike before, this one was more pronounced, more distinct. Noah gripped it by the edge and pulled hard. To his surprise, it came loose easily. But now was no time for questions.
He tightened his grip on the stake, angling its sharp point at his enemy. Instantly, the bull halted at the sight of the weapon. Its hooves gouged the earth as it tried to slow itself, lowering its head, eyes locked on the stake, calculating the danger.
Then Noah saw three overlapping visions of the bull's next attacks. It would charge head-on, feint to the right, and gore him in the side. As soon as Noah heard its hooves thunder against the ground, he reacted. This time he didn't dodge. When the bull lunged forward, pretending to strike straight ahead before swerving, Noah swung the stake with all his might into the predicted path. His foresight was right—the bull moved straight into it.
The stake drove into the bull's eye, and it roared in agony, the sound like a beast both wailing and weeping. Blood sprayed onto the earth, streaming from the wound. Its breathing grew frantic, its head lifted toward Noah, vision halved by blood, the rest clouded by fear. And all it saw now was prey turned predator.
"I did it," Noah thought, readying to swing again for the killing blow. But then, the bull lowered its head as if accepting fate, releasing a weak bellow that sounded like crying… or begging.
Noah raised the stake high, but his hand trembled. The thought of taking a life—even one like this—made him hesitate, though he had done it before.
"Move. Come on!…" he urged himself, straining to force his body to act. What had happened earlier was adrenaline, not true conscious choice.
He lowered his arms, stake falling with them, biting his lip until it bled. Maybe it was mercy. Even though this bull—or others like it—had killed him countless times, he had always returned. But this creature wouldn't. Or maybe it wasn't mercy at all… maybe it was fear. Fear that by choosing to kill a living being with a soul, he would become something else. What was the difference, after all, between a human life and a monster's? Just two sides of the same coin. To these creatures, humans were monsters. And to humans, they were monsters in turn. In this eternal war, what right did Noah have to decide who lived to see tomorrow? By wielding a weapon and choosing to fight, hadn't he already become a monster himself?
His lip freed from his teeth, Noah stood with an empty expression. But he should never have hesitated. The moment the bull sensed his weakness, it lunged at him again, eyes burning with murderous hunger. But… Noah saw it coming.
With one swift, clean strike, he severed the bull's head. Its body froze mid-charge as its head fell from its neck. Blood sprayed everywhere like a fountain before its corpse collapsed lifeless to the ground.
"I knew it… You're a beast incapable of mercy," Noah muttered to himself, staring at the blood-soaked stake in his hands. It was sturdy, sharp. He had never wielded a sword before, yet he could swear this stake was stronger than any blade. Now it was coated in the blood of his deed—of his victim.
"You robbed me of my mercy… Because of you, guilt will gnaw at me for a long time…"
"…But… does that make me an even worse monster than you?" Noah whispered. Yet he had no chance for even a brief rest. A herd of spiritual bulls appeared. No explanation was needed—the sight of their fallen kin beside a boy holding a stake was enough. The field filled with their killing intent, their hunger, their crushing desire for vengeance.
"This place… this system… this mission… it forces me to become a monster. So be it. If I must live to write another chapter of my life, then so be it."
———
The night passed smoothly for some, and dawn arrived. Some dreamed, others woke in fear—whether from nightmares or memories of the past. Some spent the night restless with worry for a brother's safety. Others prepared to meet someone important. Some lost something dear, only to discover a different strength as they fought a herd of savage bulls.
In the "other world," amid the dense green fields beneath the blue sky, Noah stood motionless, his body drained of strength, eyes fixed on the horizon. His clothes were soaked in blood. Around him stretched countless corpses of the herd, their blood staining the green earth and flowing together into a single stream that had become a river of crimson.
"A monster I've become… a monster I shall be."