The ashes drifted to the floor like scattered sand, the remains of the beast dissolving into nothing. Chakra stayed frozen, staring at the empty space where the monster had stood. His breath came in ragged bursts, every inhale searing his broken ribs.
The stopwatch ticked softly in his trembling hand, the sound impossibly steady against the chaos inside him. Warm. Alive.
He forced himself to slip it into his pocket, hiding it close to his chest. His body screamed at him to rest, to give in to the darkness clawing at the edge of his vision—but if he collapsed here, the labyrinth would finish what the monster could not.
"…I have to get out," he whispered, barely more than breath.
Each step was agony. His boots dragged against the cold stone, leaving a faint trail of blood. The labyrinth's corridors twisted endlessly, shadows watching, walls pressing closer with every turn. His vision blurred; sometimes he walked blind, guided only by instinct—or perhaps by the faint pulse of the relic warming his side.
Minutes, hours—it was impossible to tell. All that mattered was forward. Forward, until the air changed.
And then—light.
The glow of the outside world spilled into the labyrinth's mouth, faint but real. Chakra staggered toward it, heart hammering with desperate relief.
The night sky opened above him, vast and endless. For a fleeting moment, he breathed deeply, tasting freedom on his tongue.
Then his legs buckled. His body gave out, collapsing at the labyrinth's threshold.
Darkness claimed him.
When his eyes opened again, the world had changed.
The ceiling above him was white, sterile. Machines hummed softly at his bedside, and a slow, rhythmic beeping echoed in his ears. His body lay wrapped in bandages, weak but alive.
Chakra blinked, dazed, the truth settling in like a dream made real.
He was no longer in the labyrinth.
He was in a hospital.
Alive.