The wind howled like a mourning spirit, tugging at Davin's torn cloak as he scaled the jagged cliff.
Each handhold burned his fingers.
Each breath scraped his lungs like broken glass.
Sweat traced down his temple, mingling with dust on his small, battered frame. He was breathless—but unyielding.
[Stamina: 30/160]
Above him, the final ledge loomed.
With a final grunt, Davin hauled himself up and collapsed onto the flat rock at the summit. He lay sprawled on his back, chest rising in sharp, erratic bursts, sucking in air like it was treasure.
[Stamina: 20/160]
[+2 Strength stat]
'Yes... I knew it would work,' he thought, too tired to speak aloud.
[So you climbed this cliff just to gain stats?]
'Yep.'
[Didn't the thought of falling cross your mind?]
'Naah. I used to scale tall buildings in my past life just to grab some free stuff.'
[You mean steal.]
'I never stole for thrills, if that's what you're implying. I did it to survive.'
[In the end, survival justifies many things.]
'No arguments there. And it looks like I reincarnated with my climbing skills intact, he thought,' cracking a proud grin.
[How long were you a thief?]
'Lets see... died at nineteen. Started pick-pocketing at eleven. You do the math.'
[Approximately eight years... Not bad, assuming you were never caught.]
'Well... I was caught. That's why I'm here.'
He turned his head.
And there, just past the outcrop of weather-beaten stone, the horizon opened like a secret painting.
A sunset—radiant and dreamlike—bathed the land in molten gold, blood-crimson, and soft lavender. Orange streaks burned across the sky, bleeding into drifting clouds.
The sun descended at the world's edge, casting long shadows across a field of violet flowers that crowned the cliff like royalty.
Davin slowly sat up, his breath catching—not from exhaustion, but awe.
The wind caressed his face, cool and whisper-soft, stirring purple petals into the air like dandelion fluff.
Then came a chime.
[You should leave. Now.]
Davin blinked. "Huh? Why?"
The system didn't answer right away.
His gaze followed the floating petals—No... not petals.
Spores.
Tiny, glowing motes drifted toward him like fireflies with purpose.
[Those spores... they aren't ordinary.]
His heart skipped. He tried to stand——but stumbled.
His legs gave out beneath him.
The climb's fatigue wrapped around his limbs like chains.
'Maybe I shouldn't have pushed myself this hard,' he thought with a sheepish smile.
'Are they dangerous?' he asked, already thinking of using his pulse points to refill his stamina.
[You have inhaled Athra flower spores.]
'Just my luck—'
[Status: Inactive. No direct threat to host detected.]
He exhaled in relief...
[Spores classified as hallucinogens. Time Orb response: not worth the expenditure of power.]
'Hallucinogens...? Like... drugs?'
[You will now enter a dream-like state. Enjoy your illusions.]
"Wait—!"
But his world was already shifting.
The cliff, the sky, the wind—all blurred, melting like wax under heat.
~Dreaming
It began with cold.
Not the cold of weather—but of loneliness.
Familiar and sharp.
He was back on Earth.
In the shadowed alleyways of a city that had never known kindness.
A younger version of his past self darted between rusted dumpsters, clutching a half-stolen loaf of bread.
Sirens howled in the distance, while hunger clawed at his belly.
He looked up.
No stars.
No future.
Just the choking dark sky...
And then it abruptly changed—
White.
He found himself in a soft, white room.
Gaela—his second mother—stood before him.
Ageless and beautiful as ever. Cloaked in golden robes.
She opened her arms.
He rushed into them, collapsing against her chest. She held him close, like she always had, whispering with the comfort of safety.
"Mother…" he breathed.
But the warmth began to fade.
She stepped back. Her light dimming.
"Wait…! Where are you going?" he called out, moving to follow—but his feet wouldn't move.
He looked down.
Golden chains coiled around his neck, wrists, ankles and pulsed with divine rhythm.
"Don't go! I—I don't want to be alone again!"
She turned one last time. Her eyes full of sorrow.
"Wait a little longer, my love. First, your mother has to deal with the monster inside her…" she whispered.
Cracks spread across her flawless skin. And silent tears streamed down her face.
Then light devoured her.
"Mother!!" Davin screamed.
The golden chains tightened, searing his skin.
And then he was pulled back into—Fire!
The scene changed.
Not a dream.
More of a vision...
A world bloomed around him—not of beauty, but of death.
Purple flames howled, cold and alive, lashing the earth.
Trees, stone, soil turned to ash in seconds.
The flames surprisingly came from him.
His hands. His breath. His very soul, spit out purple flames...
He stood at the center.
Unharmed. Unchanged. But confused.
"What... is this?" he whispered, watching the inferno reach the sky.
The flames weren't warm. They were cold.
He knelt and touched the fire.
It felt like the void.
The absence of all things.
A nullification of life itself, antimatter...
Then—
A skeletal hand gripped his ankle.
He gasped, recoiling.
A man—skin burned away, teeth clattering in agony—crawled from the ash.
"It's you…" the corpse rasped.
"The devil among us… all along…"
Davin stumbled backward, heart slamming against his ribs.
But more were crawling in dozens.
"What... the hell you are talking about…!"he cried.
But the fire in his eyes said otherwise...
"Even if you are Death... we'll make sure you rot here with us!" The corpses said in unison...
~
He awoke in a jolt.
His body was drenched in cold sweat, his heart slamming against his ribs.
The early morning sun peeked gently over the horizon, casting soft golden light through the trees behind him.
Birds chirped in cheerful ignorance.
The field of Athra flowers swayed in innocent silence, their petals folding for the day.
[Good morning, host.]
He didn't reply.
He just sat there, head bowed, one arm wrapped around himself.
His breath came shallow and slow.
He tried to remember.
Fragments clung to the edges of his mind like smoke—Gaela, the fire, the chains… a man's burnt face.
But the memories were fading. As dreams do.
But was it really a dream, vision or a memory?
He wondered.
All that remained though, was a heavy ache in his chest.
An ache without a name, and one single tear, trailing down his cheek.
But the morning breeze swept it away.