The first night passed quickly. As agreed, the two groups slept with a hundred meters of distance between them. Nox was the only one who stayed awake, guarding both the key and Elena. The other group took turns keeping watch every three hours.
We continued our journey in the morning. Both groups were silent most of the time, exchanging only a few words every now and then. After all, silence only fueled anxiety and madness.
'Humans are social creatures. They will instinctively seek to communicate with others. Isolation leads to mental disorders that may result in insanity. But communication isn't always the better option—sometimes, contact with others brings physical and mental scars.'
'The more people interact, the more problems arise. Humans may be social beings, yes—but it's better for them to remain within small, isolated groups. Otherwise, wars are born. When two groups of humans meet, they will first attempt communication, but once they recognize their differences, conflict will inevitably break out.'
'Humans reject what they are not used to or what defies their logic. If one group of people loves the color yellow and another loves blue, they will argue. Each side will believe they are right while the other is wrong. It often starts with rejection, then verbal abuse. These things accumulate, leading to physical harm. And once that happens, they will fight each other.'
'But in my opinion, communication is madness, yes—but silence is even more insane. That's why I talk to myself often, refusing to stay silent. Even if the outside world is quiet, the inside must move, or else a person becomes an empty vessel. That's why I speak philosophically, like a wise man lecturing his students—all just to avoid silence.'
'As for why I refuse to talk to others like Elena , it's simple. I find conversation extremely exhausting. I'm anxious—what should I say? Will I say something wrong? Besides, there's no point in discussing perspectives. It's hard for people to accept others' thoughts, which means my words would be meaningless. And I hate doing meaningless things. Maybe we'd talk for hours—but would the other person really care? Perhaps they'd just listen while thinking, >When will this bastard shut up? He talks too much.< '
'Just thinking of those possibilities makes it hard to speak. I'm also bad at expressing my real emotions. Words vanish the moment I try to speak, preventing me from talking to others. I deceive and lie to people because it's easier. The truth is hard to talk about. Maybe I'm honest only with myself, which is why I have these inner conversations from time to time—but most of the words I say to others are lies and deception.'
'I know what I'm doing is wrong, but I can't help it. Change is hard. Every time I tell myself I'll change, I find myself standing still, unable to move forward. My energy disappears, and my mind fills with negative thoughts. That's why I respect and admire those who can change, because I know change requires great courage—courage I don't have.'
Nox walked quietly beside Elena, deep in thought. They had encountered some monsters along the way, but Ronan and his companions took care of them. Then, they chose the largest one for Elena to purify. After cutting and storing the meat, they continued their journey, with Nox absorbing the remaining beasts.
Nox glanced at them emotionlessly, still lost in his inner world, immersed in conversation with himself. To him, his own self was his true companion the one who listened to everything without boredom, who understood him and knew what he wanted.
But at the same time, Nox knew that a person's greatest enemy was also himself. The self would drag one down if not kept in control. That awareness made him sad too being unable to feel at ease even with himself was truly miserable.
"Hmmm?"
Nox stopped along with the others as they stared ahead in curiosity. A sea of fog had appeared within their sight, blocking the path like a barrier.
Everyone prepared for battle, afraid a powerful creature might emerge. But Nox's mind had already cooled after his long internal monologue. He stepped forward calmly, approaching the fog, and stretched his hand toward it.
'There's some energy inside... so it seems artificial. Could it be a monster's ability?'
I felt the heaviness of the mist in my hand but couldn't discern much else, so I backed away and turned to the others.
"There's some energy inside, so it's probably artificial. We have no choice but to enter. Stay cautious, and keep close to each other you might get lost inside. If you do, just keep walking forward. How do you know which way is forward? Simple—keep the tip of your weapon touching the ground. It'll leave a straight mark. Check it as you go, and note any changes."
No one objected—what I said made sense. Everyone followed his instruction. Luke, who wielded two daggers, had to hold onto Klaus to avoid getting separated.
Elena came closer and grabbed my arm to ensure they wouldn't lose each other. I didn't mind it was better not to be alone.
Once they were ready, they entered the fog slowly. A strange, unpleasant sensation pressed on their heads, and their vision vanished completely. The mist's heaviness surrounded them, but nothing else happened, so they kept walking.
"Nox, I feel like the fog's getting denser the deeper we go," Elena said beside me. She was so close, yet her figure was hard to distinguish through the thick fog.
"You're right, so be careful. Things like this are usually related to illusions or mental interference. Entering the fog is like stepping into a beast's mouth—but we have no other choice. We must reach the Temple of Truth, no matter what."
Elena tightened her grip on my arm to make sure we will stay together. But as we took another step, I felt her hand vanish.
"Elena? Where are you?!"
I called out, but got no response. Looking down, the line he had drawn was gone too—as if the mist itself had erased it.
'Annoying... does the fog have spatial properties that separated us? Or maybe it's manipulating our perception, making us lose sense of what's ahead?'
I kept walking, gripping my sword and reinforcing my body—it was best to stay prepared.
'I can feel the energy inside the fog increasing. That means I'm getting closer to its source. Maybe the fog's source is a monster—or maybe the fog itself is a living entity, or some strange phenomenon like the Death Mountains. Honestly, both options are annoying. If it's the first, it means the Flower controls it. But if it's the second, the Flower wouldn't be able to control it since it's not material. The problem is, the second option makes it far deadlier—more like the Death Mountains. I'd rather not face that.'
As soon as i took another step, the fog suddenly rippled.
"!!!"
I unleashed my power, ready for anything. The mist kept pulsing, then began to gather in one place—until it burst outward, swallowing everything.
"Fuc—!"
Before i could react, the fog engulfed me completely. I felt like i was drowning at the bottom of the ocean, unable to move. Then, the sensation disappeared. Slowly, i open my eyes—only to find myself in a completely different place.
A small child's room. A bed in the corner with a blue blanket. Beside it, a drawer with five compartments, a lamp, and a framed photo. A bookshelf stood by a desk with a cheap computer on it.
"This...!"
My heart tightened as i tried to reject what i was seeing. My gaze drifted to the photo beside the bed—three people.
A small boy with black hair and dark eyes smiling brightly, making a peace sign with both hands. Behind him stood a man in his thirties, short black hair, light brown eyes, sharp features but a warm smile. Next to him, a woman with long, shiny black hair and dark eyes similar to the boy's. She looked young and beautiful, smiling gently as she hugged the boy from behind.
My heartbeat quickened. Sweat ran down on my body as panic set in. I trembled, exhaling cold breaths. I knew exactly where this place was and who those people were. I could never forget them, no matter how many years passed.
"This... this is my room... from when my parents were still alive."
My voice trembled as i sat on the bed, trying to calm myself and make sense of what was happening.
'What does this mean? Why am I here? This place shouldn't exist anymore. Is this the fog's doing? An illusion, maybe? Or a mental attack? But I have mental defenses—this shouldn't be possible.'
The door creaked open as i sank deeper into thought, and a woman entered the room.
"Nox, what are you doing? Come have lunch with us."
Her voice was bright and full of warmth—even when scolding the boy.
A shiver ran through my spine. I raised my head slowly.
"M-Mom?"
The words escaped from my mouth before i could stop them. I stared at her in disbelief, my mind completely frozen.
She tilted her head, puzzled.
"Yes? Why are you looking at me like I'm some corrupted monster? That hurts, you know."
She sighed dramatically, then looked at me again.
"Enough joking around, dear. Go wash your face you must've been dreaming again. You always act weird after naps, especially when you're sick. Last night you were saying the strangest things—that we died, that you tried to kill yourself, that you became immortal, then met some beautiful girl and started rambling nonsense. Do you know how worried I was? I cried, thinking my son had gone insane."
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. My mother Laila had always been gentle and lively, though she cried and worried easily. Still, she never showed her weakness to her son.
Seeing her sad face hurt me deeply. I stood quickly, trying to calm her.
"It's okay, Mom. You're right it was just a fever dream. I must've imagined things after reading that novel my friend gave me. I probably thought I was the protagonist or something. Anyway, go eat with Dad. I'll join you after I wash my face."
My mother smiled in relief, then bent down and kissed my forehead, hugging me tightly.
"I'm so glad you're okay, dear."
My eyes widened. The warmth of her embrace it was exactly as i remembered. So warm. So safe. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder, trying to feel that warmth again.
After a few moments, they parted. She left the room, and i watched her go, sadness heavy in my chest. I wanted to hug her again but couldn't bring myself to.
I walked out. Their home was a small apartment three rooms: one for me, one for my parents, and one as my father's study. There was also a modest kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom near his room.
I entered the small bathroom and turned left toward the mirror. I reflection stared back at me not the cold young man clad in black armor, but a ten-year-old boy in a white T-shirt and shorts that reached his knees.
'That's me... when I was little. But...'
I looked into my reflection's eyes they were still dark, void of light.
'Why are my eyes like this? I didn't have a shard back then.'
I tried to connect with his shard but felt nothing. Shaking my head, i opened the faucet and splashed cold water on my head.
The i grabbed a nearby towel, dried off, and headed toward the kitchen at the end of the hall.
When i arrived, the medium-sized kitchen was filled with the aroma of his favorite food. My mother sat at the center of the table, and my father at the head.
My father Ashur looked just as he remembered wise and dignified, yet kind. The moment i entered, he turned to me and smiled gently.
"Son, you seem fine now. That's good."
I felt a rush of nostalgia at his voice, at those eyes that softened with warmth whenever he looked at him.
"Yeah... sorry for worrying you."
I apologized awkwardly, but my father shook his head.
"That doesn't matter. What matters is that you're alright. It's natural for parents to worry about their children all the time. Now come, sit, and eat."
My father gestured for me to sit. I moved and took the seat across from my mother, to his father's right.
The food was dolma a popular dish from his homeland along with some meat and orange juice. My father never allowed soda, saying it was unhealthy.
"The food looks amazing. Thank you, Mom."
I smiled warmly as i looked at the meal.
"Hehehe~ Your mother worked hard on it today,"
My mother giggled proudly, then served food onto my plate and gestured for me to eat.
I grabbed the fork and began eating quickly. The familiar taste filled my mouth the taste of love and warmth. My mother's cooking. Was my favorite.
"What's wrong, son?"
I lifted my head, startled, meeting my father's gaze.
"Why are you crying? Does something hurt?!" My mother shouted, panicked, standing up and grabbing my shoulders across the table.
That's when I realized I was crying uncontrollably. Tears streamed down on my face like a waterfall.
I smiled bitterly through the tears, looking at my parents.
"I'm fine. My body doesn't hurt... but..."
My words broke between sobs. I clutched my chest tightly, trembling.
"But my heart... it hurts so much."
---