Kairo opened his eyes to silence.
Not the kind of silence that comes after battle - but the kind that feels wrong, too still, too complete.
He stood ankle-deep in a mirror-like sea that stretched endlessly in every direction. THe water didn't ripple. It reflected everything above - except there was no sky. Only a faint shimmer of light, like dawn trapped under glass.
He took one step forward and the reflection blinked. His own reflection looked back, slightly off - eyes colder, darker.
When Kairo blinked, his reflection didn't.
"Where am I now…" he whispered, his voice dissolving into the still air.
Then, a whisper from nowhere answered: "Welcome home."
The voice was both gentle and cruel. A thousand echoes wrapped into one - the Tyrant King's tone blended with voices he knew: his mother's lullaby, Reika's teasing, Taro's laughter, even his own.
Kairo turned slowly, eyes scanning the glass ocean as memories began surfacing from beneath.
Shapes floated just below the surface - blurred, weightless silhouettes of people. Each time the faint light hit the water, faces appeared: friends, enemies, fragments of his past life as the Tyrant King, and as the broken boy who replaced him.
He knelt down beside one shape - Aina - her smile faint, eyes shut as though asleep. Another step - Varik Draal, one of the Circle, his hand still clutching a sword.
And beyond them - Reika, her face serene, frozen beneath the surface.
Kairo reached for her - but the instant his fingertips touched the glassy surface, the ocean cracked.
A sound like thunder roared across the void. A storm of shards burst upward, and the world began to shift - twisting, bleeding into itself.
The ocean darkened. The sky bled gold. And through the chaos, Kairo saw two figures falling from above - Reika and Taro, their bodies shimmering like broken fragments of reality.
He ran forward, catching Reika before she hit the water. She gasped, blinking rapidly, disoriented.
"Where are we -"
"The last layer," Kairo said quickly. "The Tyrant King's final cage."
Taro landed face-first into the glass, groaning. "Ow. Okay…yeah, that's definitely not solid. I think I cracked my face."
Kairo managed a tired chuckle. Even here, Taro's voice was grounding - a ridiculous, bright sound in the void.
Reika's gaze darted around, eyes narrowing as she looked at the shifting horizon. "This isn't real, is it?"
"No," Kairo admitted. "It's worse. It's my mind trying to protect me."
He looked out across the sea, where reflections began to move on their own - scenes playing out like ghosts trapped in a film reel.
One showed Kairo as a boy at St. Kareth's Academy, alone in the sterile halls, whispering to imaginary friends.
Another showed him as the Tyrant King, standing on a burning throne, his hands dripping with the light of a thousand dead souls.
And another - the worst - showed the moment he died, Reika's hand reaching for him as his own body dissolved into the Rift's light.
Reika's voice cracked. "You've been reliving this over and over, haven't you?"
Kairo didn't answer. His silence was enough.
Taro, unusually quiet, crouched beside them. "You know," he said softly, "for a nightmare, this place is beautiful. Terrifying, but…kinda poetic."
He looked up at Kairo. "You sure you're ready to leave it?"
Kairo stared into the glassy sea, watching the younger version of himself - the one who still believed the academy was salvation, not a prison.
"I don't think I ever left it," he murmured.
"Every time I thought I escaped, I just…changed cages."
The silence lingered - until the ocean shifted again.
This time, it rose.
A massive shape rose from beneath the surface, glowing gold - the form of a colossal hand, breaking through the glass. The Tyrant King's voice boomed from every direction:
"You keep trying to rewrite the ending, boy. But every word, every tear, every laugh - it all comes from me."
The hand reached toward them, the air vibrating with divine fury.
Reika grabbed Kairo's arm. "We can't fight that!"
Kairo's eyes burned, the golden fire returning to his veins. "We don't have to fight him. We just have to wake up."
Taro raised a brow. "And how exactly do you wake up from a nightmare that doesn't end?"
Kairo smiled faintly - tired, but certain.
"By remembering what's real."
He reached out - not to fight, but to touch the rising hand. The glass ocean shattered once again, and this time, everything went white.
When the light faded, Kairo found himself standing in a small field of flowers. The world was quiet again - peaceful, maybe too much so.
He looked down and saw a small, familiar crest burnt into his wrist - the emblem of St. Kareth's Academy.
Behind him, Reika and Taro appeared once more. Both silent, uncertain.
Taro kicked the grass lightly. "So…either we're back in reality or we're dead again. Fifty-fifty, huh?"
Reika didn't smile. "No. Look."
The horizon shimmered - and there it was. The broken towers of St. Kareth's Academy, rising out of the mist like a ghost.
Kairo's eyes widened. "No. Not again."
The voice of the Tyrant King echoed faintly, almost like a whisper in the wind.
"Welcome back to where it all began."
The glass ocean had only been a door - and the real nightmare waited beyond it.