Chapter 29: Reflection 1
Darkness.
Not the darkness of night.
Not the darkness of a cave.
It was... absolute.
Arthur stood alone.
"..."
A scratching sound echoed around him.
Like a brush dragging across paper.
Slowly...
Thin white lines appeared upon the black walls.
One stroke.
Then another.
Until they formed a painting.
A little boy.
Running barefoot through muddy streets.
His clothes were soaked with sweat.
His breathing was ragged.
"Please!"
"Please save my sister!"
He sprinted from clinic to clinic.
Every physician turned him away.
No money.
No treatment.
At last, an assistant healer pitied him enough to follow.
The painting shifted.
The two arrived.
Too late.
His little sister lay motionless on a straw bed.
The healer slowly shook his head.
"...I'm sorry."
The boy collapsed beside her.
Tears streamed endlessly down his face.
"...No..."
His sister slowly opened her eyes.
Despite her pale face...
She smiled.
"You'll..."
"You'll make a cure one day..."
"...won't you, brother?"
Her hand slipped from his.
The painting dissolved.
...
Another appeared.
A woman carried baskets larger than herself.
She worked beneath the scorching sun.
She washed clothes.
Cooked for nobles.
Harvested fields.
Anything...
To send her son to school.
Years passed.
The paintings flowed one after another.
When tuition became impossible...
The young boy found work inside an apothecary.
Grinding herbs.
Cleaning bottles.
Organizing medicine.
Watching.
Learning.
Every spare moment...
He studied.
Another painting emerged.
A noblewoman stood before him.
She smiled warmly before handing him a pouch of coins.
"Talent should never die because of poverty."
Because of her...
He returned to school.
Because of her...
He graduated.
The paintings changed once more.
Rows of patients.
A small bottle.
Smiles.
Laughter.
The dying recovered.
Children ran again.
Parents embraced their families.
He had done it.
He had fulfilled his promise.
He had created a cure.
...
A new painting formed.
A nobleman watched from a balcony.
He smiled.
Not with kindness.
With greed.
The cure was patented under another name.
Its price multiplied.
Only the wealthy could afford it.
Arthur refused.
If they wouldn't save the poor...
He would.
The paintings shifted.
He gathered herbs.
Experimented.
Improved the formula.
His herbal medicine proved safer.
Cheaper.
Even more effective.
People lined up outside his small clinic.
Hope returned.
Then—
The painting shattered.
Soldiers stormed inside.
Steel clanged.
"Arthur!"
"You are under arrest!"
"Production and distribution of illegal narcotics!"
"What?"
A bag of herbs was thrown onto the floor.
Among them...
A prohibited tobacco leaf.
Arthur froze.
"...That's impossible."
Nobody listened.
Chains closed around his wrists.
...
The next painting appeared.
A prison.
Cold.
Silent.
Beyond its walls...
His mother lay bedridden.
Her coughing worsened each day.
The news of her son's arrest had broken what little strength she had left.
Arthur slammed his fists against the bars.
"Mother!"
...
The painting shifted again.
Moonlight.
Footsteps.
The noblewoman returned.
She unlocked his chains.
"You have to leave."
"I can't."
"You must."
"But—"
"They're coming."
She pushed him forward.
"Live."
The painting blurred.
Shouts erupted.
Soldiers appeared.
A carriage lost control.
CRASH!
The noblewoman disappeared beneath splintered wood.
Blood stained the road.
An arranged accident.
By morning...
The entire kingdom believed Arthur had murdered her.
...
The final painting formed.
Arthur stumbled home.
His clothes were torn.
His body exhausted.
"...Mother?"
Silence.
A white cloth covered her body.
He slowly dropped to his knees.
"..."
He was late.
Again.
His shoulders trembled.
Not from crying.
There were no tears left.
Only emptiness.
He surrendered.
There was nothing left worth protecting.
Nothing left worth running from.
...
One last painting appeared.
A funeral.
No nobles.
No officials.
Only ordinary people.
The very people whose lives he had once saved.
Together...
They buried his mother.
Days later...
They buried him beside her.
The painting slowly crumbled into countless white fragments.
Silence reclaimed the room.
Arthur lowered his head.
"...If only..."
His voice barely existed.
"If only I'd been faster..."
"If only I'd tried harder..."
"If only..."
The darkness answered with nothing.
Only the sound of a brush.
Scratching.
Painting once more.
As though someone...
Somewhere...
Was still deciding what his life had truly been worth.
________________________________________
Darkness.
Cold.
Heavy.
The young woman gasped as she hit solid ground.
"...Huh?"
Her body ached.
She quickly pushed herself up.
"...Where am I?"
There was no endless white.
No strange ink.
No giant eyes.
Only darkness.
Then—
"...Another one."
A tired voice echoed nearby.
She spun around.
Someone was sitting against a wall.
Then another.
And another.
As her eyes adjusted...
Dozens of figures slowly emerged from the darkness.
Old.
Young.
Men.
Women.
Children.
Every single one wore the same defeated expression.
"..."
A middle-aged man let out a bitter laugh.
"So..."
"You failed too."
The girl's heart skipped.
"Failed?"
Nobody answered.
Instead...
One woman quietly pointed upward.
The girl looked.
Far above...
A tiny square of white light.
Like a hatch that had already been sealed.
"..."
"I..."
"I was..."
Her pupils shook.
"No..."
"I wasn't..."
She remembered the words.
WE DISAPPROVE.
YOU ARE NOT WORTHY.
Her knees weakened.
"I..."
"...failed."
Silence answered her.
A little boy sitting nearby hugged his knees.
"I failed too."
"I couldn't answer."
An old man chuckled dryly.
"I answered."
"They still threw me here."
Someone else snorted.
"I tried running."
"Didn't help."
Another laughed.
"I begged."
The laughter spread.
Not joyful.
Broken.
Hopeless.
Almost...
Normal.
The girl slowly backed away.
"No..."
"There has to be a mistake."
"I survived..."
"I passed the monsters..."
"I..."
Nobody looked at her.
It was obvious.
Every person here had once said those exact words.
A deep horn suddenly echoed.
BOOOOOOOOOOM
The darkness trembled.
Everyone immediately stood.
No panic.
No confusion.
Only resignation.
"...It's starting."
The girl looked around.
"Starting?"
Nobody answered.
...
Tap.
A single footstep echoed through the darkness.
Everyone stiffened.
She spun toward the sound.
Nothing.
Only darkness.
Tap...
This time...
Behind her.
She turned so quickly she nearly lost her balance.
Still...
Nothing.
The footsteps continued.
Sometimes close.
Sometimes distant.
Always somewhere else.
As though someone was casually walking around them.
Watching.
Waiting.
No one dared speak.
Then...
Two sulfur-yellow eyes slowly opened within the darkness.
The girl instinctively looked toward them.
Before she could react—
They vanished.
Tap.
The footsteps sounded from the opposite side.
The eyes opened again.
Far away.
Higher than before.
Watching.
Expressionless.
They disappeared once more.
The footsteps resumed.
Nobody knew where he was.
Because...
The darkness itself concealed him.
Then the void spoke.
Its voice was calm.
Cold.
Completely devoid of emotion.
"Candidates..."
The words echoed from every direction at once.
"You have failed the Qualification Examination."
No one reacted.
"As such..."
"You have been granted..."
"...one final opportunity."
The girl slowly raised her head.
Hope flickered within her trembling eyes.
The sulfur-yellow eyes appeared one last time.
Watching every one of them.
Unblinking.
"Welcome..."
"...to the Beginning of Redemption."