Assad was frozen in place.
His eyes were glued to the figure perched on the throne made of corpses, a twisted reflection of himself, wearing that chilling, effortless smirk. The air was thick and suffocating, heavy with the metallic scent of blood and something ancient that pressed against his chest.
For what felt like an eternity, neither of them uttered a word. The silence hung in the air, alive and quivering.
Why does he look like me? What is this place?
The throne-self's grin widened, his voice shifting from regal menace to a lazy drawl laced with amusement. "Why're ya stressin', huh? Is it 'cause you're finally witnessin' the real deal?"
He spread his arms wide, as if showcasing himself to an unseen crowd. That's alright. I mean—come on—I am a cool type of guy."
Assad blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. The words felt jarringly out of place in this bleeding world. "I'm still confused," he admitted, shaking his head. "Just… who are you?"
The other him let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Wow, you really are hard of hearing, huh?" He raised one hand, fingers forming a pistol, thumb cocked, index finger aimed right at Assad's forehead. A click echoed through the crimson air—louder than it had any right to be.
"I already told ya," he said, the smirk cutting deep. "I'm the OG. The original Assad. And you—" his voice dropped to a mocking whisper "—you little nerdy-werdy Toon Horst from another world, you've hijacked my body."
The sound of an imaginary gunshot followed his words, a thunderous crack that split the red sky. The ground rippled outward like water disturbed by a stone, and for a fleeting moment, Assad felt something cold burrow deep into his chest.
Assad froze in place, his thoughts spiraling into a chaotic mess. How does he know my name—Toon Horst? How does he know I'm from another world?
Before he could even finish processing that thought, the other one let out a chuckle.
"'How does he know my name? How does he know I'm from another world?'" the throne-self echoed, perfectly mimicking Assad's inner voice, each word laced with mockery. "Man, you're really stressing out, huh? That's a real doozy, even for you."
He laughed again, a sound that felt way too casual for the nightmare surrounding them. The corpses beneath his feet twitched, responding to the laughter like a twisted chorus.
Assad's heart raced. His mind felt completely exposed, every thought reflected and ridiculed before he could even voice it.
"Stop—" he hissed. "Get out of my head!"
"Out of your head?" The original flashed a wider grin. "Buddy, you're the one barging into mine."
Assad's heart raced even faster. The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. My flaw… people stronger than me can read my thoughts. But then a wave of panic washed over him. Wait—how the hell is he stronger?
The original grinned, tilting his head. "You've got a sharp mind, I'll give you that. Maybe even smarter than me." He pointed a thumb at himself. "But yeah, I'm stronger. And honestly? It's kinda wild that your weak side is still hanging around."
Assad's fists tightened. "How did you get stronger? Why did you leave this body—and how did I end up inside it?"
"Whoa, whoa—calm down, Jamal, don't go pulling out the nine," the other teased, laughing until he had to catch his breath. "Man, I missed that one." He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes narrowing as his grin faded.
"About me," he finally said. "Let's just say I didn't start out in this freak-show world. Back where I came from, I was just a teenage gang kid from 64th—no powers, no destiny, no shiny title. Then this dude shows up with white hair and a few gold streaks, dressed like a million bucks, he mentioned something about a 'contract' I could take. You know, power, knowledge, all that spiritual mumbo jumbo."
He let out a small, humorless laugh. "Honestly, I didn't really get what he was talking about. But I craved more. So, I signed. He told me I'd have to 'face the flame,' to prove I could handle the kind of pain that would break ordinary folks. I thought it was just a challenge."
The grin returned, sharper this time. "Turns out it was. Just… not in the way I thought."
Assad's eyes widened as the words echoed in his mind. Face the flame…
Then it dawned on him. No way… that was the moment I transmigrated. When I woke up in this body—
His gaze shot toward the throne-self. The realization crawled up his spine like a jolt of electricity. "You—"
The original was already grinning, wide and knowing. "There ya go, you figured it out. Ain't so hard, right?" He snapped his fingers with a lazy smile. "So yeah, the moment that happened—that's when your nerdy self came out to play."
He laughed, a quick, sharp sound that echoed in the crimson air. "Oh, and here's a fun tidbit. Remember those times when you couldn't control the body? When your mouth started talking on its own, throwing punches, moving without your say-so?"
Assad felt the color drain from his face.
"Yeah," the original said, leaning in, his grin turning wild. "That was all me. One hundred percent me. Nothin' else."
Memories flashed through Assad's mind like bolts of lightning—the brawl in the alley, the chaotic flurry of fists and fury, the moment with Mischa when everything escalated into violence before he could intervene.
His stomach sank.
Those moments… that wasn't me.
That was him.
The truth hit him like a ton of bricks, and he almost chuckled.
And he did—just a quick, breathless laugh that slipped out before he could catch it.
The original's eyes narrowed. "What's with the grin?" he asked, tilting his head. "Don't tell me you just realized how ridiculous this all is. Or what—did I scare you so much you forgot how to feel embarrassed?"
Assad wiped the smile off his face but couldn't hide the tremor in his hands. "No," he replied softly. "I'm just coming to terms with the mess you left behind."
The original let out a low, sharp chuckle. "Fair enough. But at least when I make a mess, people remember it."
Assad exhaled shakily. "So… what happens now? I can't just be stuck here forever, you know."
The original Assad leaned back on his throne of corpses, resting his chin on one hand as if he'd been waiting for that question.
"Yeah, of course, you idiot. I know that," he said with a smirk. "Don't sweat it, you'll wake up soon—back in my body—just carry on with life like nothing happened."
He snapped his fingers, the sound reverberating through the emptiness.
" So you're part of the Sweepers now, right? That's a pretty big deal, if you ask me. I heard about them back in 64th—dangerous people. Detective types who solve cases but don't care about the rules. Money talks, morals walk, you get me?"
Assad listened quietly as the original laughed, tapping the armrest of his throne.
"To be honest, I was scared of them. If the Sweepers ever showed up in 64th, they'd shut our whole operation down in no time. No gunfire, no deals, nothing. But it worked out for us—guess luck was on our side for once."
The air pulsed with a faint red hue. Assad frowned. "So that's it? I just wake up and pretend this never happened?"
The original's grin wavered for just a moment before sharpening back into place. "Pretty much… but let's just say, from now on, we're in sync."
With a snap of his fingers, the crimson void faded away like mist. Assad blinked, squinting against the bright light of reality , the original Assad kept that casual grin plastered on his face. "Catch you later, sucker."
In an instant, the crimson void faded away like mist. Assad blinked, squinting against the bright light of reality. The floor beneath him felt hard and cold.
Mya's face hovered right above his, her eyes sparkling with relief. "You're awake!" she exclaimed, her voice shaking. "I was so worried!"
She rushed over to Shuren, tugging at her sleeve. "Shuren! He's awake!"
Shuren, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed, smirked. "Well, Sleeping Beauty finally decided to join us, huh?"
Assad rubbed his temples, still feeling a bit dazed. "Yeah… sorry about that." He glanced around, blinking to adjust. "How long was I out?"
Shuren raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in her expression. "Not too long—only about fifteen or twenty minutes."
Assad nodded. "Got it." He swung his legs over the edge of the floor and pushed himself up.
Mya let out a soft laugh, still clutching his sleeve. "You really had us worried, you know?"
Assad managed a small smile. "Yeah… I'll do my best not to scare you like that again."
Finally standing up, he felt the weight of his body and the world settling back around him.