I tried to open my eyes—slowly, heavily, as if my eyelids were lined with stone. A dim light crept in. Not a light I recognized. Not a world I knew.
As my vision began to focus, a new reality welcomed me.
The sky… deep violet, swirling like ink in water. Above, there was no sun. Only the faint silhouette of a massive presence—like the shadow of something that should not exist—hung still, yet threatening. The air was thick, as if filled with particles of death. Every breath felt like swallowing fine embers.
The ground beneath me… wasn't ground. It was thick, black sludge pulling at my body, slowly, as if trying to drag me into the belly of this alien world. It was sticky. Alive. Cold, like dead flesh.
I didn't know how I was still alive. But one thing was certain—this was no longer my world.
Slowly, I tried to stand. My body trembled. My brain gave the order, my legs responded, but every movement felt like resisting gravity ten times heavier than normal.
At last, I stood.
Then I tried to feel my arms. But—
"What…?"
Without realizing it, I reached to touch my own arm.
Nothing.
No panic came. But emptiness immediately swallowed me. My hands—both—were gone.
All that remained were the clean-cut stumps of my forearms, scorched black as if burned by divine lightning. There was no blood. As though the wounds had been sealed by something crueler than fire.
"Is this… the price of fighting something that shouldn't be fought?" I whispered. No anger. No tears. Only a cold acceptance.
I shifted my gaze—or more accurately, my remaining gaze.
My left eye… was blind. Pure darkness, not even a reflection. My right eye was damaged—distorted, as though this world refused to reveal its true shape to me.
And strangely… I wasn't afraid.
Not because of courage. But because fear had long since been drained by worse realities before this.
I looked around. This world resembled an endless desert, scattered with strange rock formations jutting from the ground like the spine of a long-dead giant. Some of them seemed alive—slowly pulsing, as if breathing.
"What… is this place? How could the world turn into something like this…?" I murmured, my voice echoing faintly in the heavy air.
One possibility entered my mind.
"Did… the Alter Ego fully descend? Has the world… already ended?"
But—then I remembered.
The black chains.
The massive chains that had dragged the creature back into the rift. That was real. Not an illusion from a shattered consciousness.
"If that's true… then this place is another dimension. A nowhere realm. A world of outcasts."
My thoughts spun, until a distant roar echoed through the void. In a world as silent as death, the sound felt like a crack through glass—sharp and terrifying.
With no other purpose, I walked toward it. Seeking answers. Information. Anything.
My body was weak, my steps dragging, but my mind remained sharp.
I hid behind one of the large, wrinkled stones that formed a circle—like the teeth of a dead dragon. Through a small gap, I peeked out.
What I saw defied belief.
Two small figures—young Alter Egos.
They were no bigger than adult men. Their skin looked like melting wax, their faces shapeless, and the emotional aura surrounding them was suffocating. Rage. Fear. Envy. Hate. All swirling around them.
And they were fighting.
But not a graceful or strategic fight. This was a brawl between two oversized infants who didn't yet understand their own bodies. Their attacks were wild—claws, punches, bites—and in seconds, they were entangled, coiled like serpents accidentally strangling themselves.
"Opportunity."
I knew in my current state, I couldn't fight. But these young creatures… were too distracted by their madness.
I crawled slowly. Sneaking, using my small, broken body to slip between the rocks, inching closer without drawing attention. I controlled my breathing. Counted each step. The rough stone scraped my legs, but I made no sound.
They rolled to the ground—exposed throats. Unprotected.
"Now."
I lunged with everything my body could give. My foot pushed off a rock, and I launched myself like a wild bullet. My teeth—my only remaining weapon—I aimed for the nearest throat.
CRUNCH!!!
The taste of raw flesh and bitter blood filled my mouth instantly. I didn't bite like a human. I bit like a starving beast. I used my jaw as if it were the last dagger I'd brought from the old world.
The creature shrieked and convulsed, before collapsing, losing its form.
I didn't stop.
Using its body as leverage, I jumped—biting into the second one. This time deeper, harder. I tore into the veins of its neck, and before it could thrash, I was already dragging it down with me.
Both died.
At the hands of someone without hands.
I gasped. My breath heavy. But I was still alive.
In a world I didn't understand, with a body that was no longer whole—I could still kill.
And that gave me one thing I thought I had completely lost.
Control.
I stared at the corpses of the Alter Egos before me—two fragile, grotesque figures now lifeless, their bodies still steaming with dark vapor. For a moment, they looked like sculptures, carved by the will of madness. But to me, in my current state, they weren't artifacts—they were the only remaining source of food.
My stomach growled. A sound that echoed strangely in this silent world, like the voice of hell's empty gut.
"Slept too long… now I'm starving," I muttered, clutching my stomach with the remnants of my forearms.
I glanced around—no plants, no water, no animals. This wasn't a forest or desert, but a realm-between-worlds—a foreign dimension where emotion took physical form. In a place like this, hope was an illusion, and sanity a luxury.
"No choice…" I sighed, barely a whisper. I crouched beside one of the young Alter Ego's bodies.
I opened my mouth. And bit.
RAKK!!
The creature's flesh was chewy, warm, and disturbingly… alive. Like biting into muscle that still pulsed.
As soon as I swallowed the first bite—a jolt of pain shot from my throat to my stomach. It felt like drinking acid and forcing it down.
"UGHK—!!"
I vomited blood onto the ground—red and black mixing, steaming atop the sludge. The pain was searing. It felt like my insides were being sliced from within. I could feel my stomach tearing, my intestines twisting.
But… I didn't stop.
"I won't die here…!" I growled through gasps and retching. "I… will get my revenge on that damned Alter Ego. The one that did this to me…"
With sheer willpower as my only remaining strength, I kept eating. Bite after bite. Every mouthful was punishment. Every chew felt like ripping through my own nerves. But I forced my body to endure it.
At last, one corpse was gone. Its body vanished, leaving only bloodstains and a stench like boiling poison.
But the price was steep.
I collapsed against a rock behind me, my body shaking violently. My vision spun. My right eye was blurry. My legs were numb. My mouth was full of blood and foam. The whisper of wind turned into murmurs—voices speaking in a language I didn't understand.
"Ah… so this is how it ends," I exhaled weakly, a bitter smile creeping across my face. "Pathetic. Disgusting."
PAK. PAK. PAK.
Footsteps.
They shouldn't have been audible on the sludge. But somehow, the sound was clear and deliberate. Each step landed like it struck stone, not mud—as if this world itself permitted his presence.
I turned slowly.
From the thin fog that hung like a veil of death, a man emerged. Tall. Cloaked in dull black robes, with a thin beard and neatly trimmed mustache, contrasting his calm face. A faint smile rested on his lips—but it wasn't kind. It was the smile of someone who had seen too much, and was no longer surprised by anything.
"Hello, young one," he said lightly, his voice deep and smooth, like an old teacher chastising a mischievous student. "Are you… lost here?"
I squinted. "Where did you come from? I didn't sense anyone else here besides the Alter Egos."
"Haha," he chuckled briefly, brushing off the question. "Don't think too hard about it. I'm like you. I just arrived earlier."
I tried to rise, my body trembling, but I resisted the pain. "Oh? Then… should I call you 'senior'?"
I narrowed my gaze, staring coldly.
"What do you want from me?"
The man didn't answer right away. He tilted his head, observing me like someone inspecting a damaged piece of art.
"Nothing," he finally said. "You're the first human I've seen in this place. And that… made me curious."
Then his eyes scanned my broken body—wounds everywhere, no hands, dried blood on my lips.
"Judging by your condition, I doubt you'll survive much longer."
I let out a faint, bitter smile. "So do I. But… even with just these teeth, I'll tear out your throat if you don't shut up."
It wasn't a threat. It was a declaration. Willpower.
But my body disagreed.
Suddenly, the pain returned in full. My head throbbed as if about to explode, my heartbeat chaotic. Warm liquid trickled from my ears—blood.
I staggered. The world began to spin.
"Hmm…" the man murmured, observing my collapse. "It seems… your mouth is still bigger than your reality."
That was the last thing I heard before everything turned white, then black.
I lost consciousness.