The man didn't turn.
He stood with his back to Rafe, cloak hanging in heavy folds, shoulders broad, posture relaxed in a way that made the hairs on Rafe's neck stand up.
That voice…
It cut through years.Two lifetimes.Straight into the part of him that remembered things this world could never have shown him.
"…You took longer than I thought," the man repeated.
Rafe's throat went dry.
"Father…?"
The man turned.
There was no mist.No distortion.No convenience blur.
The face was clear.
Short, tired hair.A jaw that hadn't shaved in a day or two.Lines at the corners of his eyes from stress, not age.Eyes that had once looked at a hospital bed and tried not to show fear.
Not Rafe's father from this world.
His father from the previous one.
From before reincarnation.From before fate.From before Primordials.
Rafe staggered back a step.
"This… isn't possible."
His father smiled faintly — the small, crooked one Rafe remembered from nights when he came home late from work and still tried to joke.
"In your situation," the man said, "you're going to need to stop saying that."
Rafe's vision blurred.
"I… watched you cry over me."
"I know," his father said softly.
"I died in front of you."
"I know."
"You weren't here," Rafe snapped, voice rising. "You never came here. You can't be here. You're not—"
"Real?"
The word hit like a slap.
Rafe clenched his fists.
"Yes," he forced out. "You're not real. You're a test. A memory. An illusion. A trick from the ruin. Or the Primordial. Or fate. Or—"
"Does it matter?" his father asked.
Rafe froze.
"…Of course it matters."
"Why?" the man asked calmly. "Are your feelings fake?"
Rafe's anger lost its footing.
He hated that question.
He hated how it landed.
"I…"He looked away."I don't know."
His father stepped closer.
There was no echo to his footsteps. No aura of mana. No oppressive pressure.
Just the familiar weight of someone who had once walked down a cheap apartment hallway in worn-out shoes.
"You've grown," his father said. "Different face. Different world. Same eyes."
Rafe's jaw tightened.
"So you… know. About this life. About Rafe."
His father nodded.
"I don't belong to this world," he said. "But I belong to you. So when this place dragged your roots into the open, it dragged me along too."
Rafe's chest ached.
"My roots," he murmured. "That's what this is."
"Where you started," his father said. "Before the guilds. Before the orphanage. Before Hunters. Before Primordials."
Rafe looked down at his hands.
They were small.Child-sized.
He remembered a hospital bed.A weak body.A failing heart.The sound of beeping turning flat.
He swallowed.
"Why now?"
"Because you finally stopped living only for other people," his father said quietly. "You said you wanted to live for yourself."
Rafe looked up sharply.
"You heard that?"
"I heard everything," his father said. "I've been stuck in whatever mess your soul is tangled in since the day you died."
Rafe blinked.
"…You're serious?"
His father shrugged lightly.
"Do I look like something this ruin built?"
Rafe studied him.
He didn't radiate mana.He didn't flicker like an illusion.He didn't match the patterns of the Path or the Ruins.
He just… existed.
Like a piece of another universe sewn into this one.
Rafe swallowed.
"Then… are you really…?"
"I don't know what to call it," his father admitted. "Ghost. Echo. Fragment. Anchor. But I remember everything from our old life. And I know one thing."
He pointed at Rafe's chest.
"You've been dragging me along without realizing it."
Rafe's head spun.
"I dragged you? No. No, I died. I left you—"
"You died," his father said. "But you didn't let go. Not completely. Not of me. Not of that life. Not of that regret you keep carrying like a stone in your stomach."
Rafe flinched.
"…Regret?"
His father's gaze softened.
"You regret two things."
He raised a finger.
"One — that you died before you could do anything meaningful."
Rafe's throat closed.
"And two," his father continued, raising a second finger,"that you left me alone in that room."
Rafe staggered back.
"That's not fair," he croaked.
"Is it wrong?" his father asked.
Rafe opened his mouth.
Closed it.
His vision burned.
"I didn't choose to die."
"I know," his father said.
"Then why does it feel like I ran away?"
His father was quiet for a long moment.
"Because," he said gently, "you never forgave yourself for it."
Rafe's breathing shook.
"And now you've been trying to pay back that guilt," his father added, "by never putting yourself first. By always throwing yourself in front. For Mara. For Lyn. For Selene. For shadows. For Primordials. For everyone except the one person you keep saying you want to live for."
Rafe whispered, "For me."
His father nodded.
"For you."
Silence fell.
Only the ruin's slow, faint pulse vibrated beneath their feet.
"Why are you here?" Rafe finally asked. "What does this chamber want? Another trial? Another test? A final break?"
His father smiled faintly.
"This isn't a trial."
Rafe frowned.
"It's not?"
"No," his father said. "The Ruins are done testing you. This is… something else."
Rafe felt a chill.
"Something else?"
His father stepped closer and placed a hand over Rafe's head.
Warm.
Solid.
Not mana-based.Not mechanical.
Just… warm.
"This is where the world stops talking," his father said, "and you decide."
"Decide what?" Rafe whispered.
His father's eyes met his — and for the first time since they met in this place, there was something dark behind them.
Not malicious.
Heavy.
"Whether you really want to keep going," he said.
Rafe's heart skipped.
"I…"
"Rafe," his father said softly, "you've been fighting since the moment you opened your eyes in this world. Against fate. Against death. Against yourself. You haven't had a single moment to ask one simple question."
Rafe's voice came out barely audible.
"What question?"
His father looked at him in the way he had in the hospital room — like someone counting every breath his son had left.
"Do you actually want this life?"
The words hit harder than any pulse from the ruin.
Rafe stared.
The question hung there.
Ugly.Unfair.True.
He thought of Mara's furious eyes.Lyn's trembling hands.Selene's exhausted smile.The Primordial's cold interest.The Fate Hunters.The Ruins.The Academy that awaited.
He thought of the hospital bed.
Of the beeping line going flat.
Of his father's shoulders shaking when he thought his son couldn't see.
Rafe clenched his fists.
"I… don't know how to stop."
His father nodded.
"I know."
"I don't know how to rest."
"I know."
"I don't know how to be anything except someone who's about to lose something."
His father's hand tightened on his shoulder.
"That's why this place pulled me here," he said. "Not to judge you. Not to break you. To give you the one thing you never had."
Rafe's voice trembled.
"What's that?"
His father smiled — tired, sad, and proud all at once.
"Permission."
Rafe swallowed.
"…Permission for what?"
"To want something," his father said, "and not feel guilty about it."
The ruin pulsed.
Soft.Resonant.
Like it agreed.
Rafe's chest hurt.
"So what now?" he asked. "You say your piece, and then vanish? I pick some answer and the door opens?"
His father chuckled.
"You really did keep the attitude."
He exhaled and let his hand drop to his side.
"No. I'm not here to give you an answer. I'm here to tell you this:"
He stepped back, just far enough for Rafe to see his face clearly.
"If you choose to keep living this life for yourself — not for me, not for your old world, not for your guilt — then you owe me nothing."
Rafe froze.
"Nothing," his father repeated. "Not a legacy. Not a promise. Not a burden."He smiled softly."You already gave me enough."
Rafe's eyes burned.
"I gave you a dead son."
"You gave me a son at all," his father said. "That was enough."
The ruin pulsed again.
The air around them distorted, a shimmer forming at the edge of the chamber — a doorway, not yet open, waiting for a decision that wasn't magical, or cosmic, or forced.
Something so simple it hurt.
"Father," Rafe whispered, voice breaking. "I don't want to lose you twice."
His father's expression softened.
"You won't."
Rafe looked up sharply.
"I won't?"
His father tapped two fingers against Rafe's chest.
"I'm not just here."
He tapped again, harder this time.
"I'm here too. I'm in the way you panic when someone you love gets hurt. In the way you keep throwing yourself in front of danger. In the way you overthink everything because you watched me drown in things I couldn't fix."
His hand dropped.
"You're not me," he finished. "But I'm part of you. And nothing this world does can erase that."
Rafe's voice shook.
"…Will I see you again?"
His father smiled.
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you start living," he said, "instead of dying slower."
The doorway shimmered brighter.
The Ruins of Arath'Sei spoke for the first time in a different tone:
"Root acknowledged.""Path unlocked."
Rafe exhaled.
He stepped forward.
Then stopped.
He turned back.
"Hey," he said quietly. "In that room… when I died… I'm sorry I made you watch."
His father smiled.
"I'm not."
Rafe blinked.
"…You're not?"
"It was the only time," his father said, "that I knew exactly where you were."
Something inside Rafe cracked.
Not painfully.
Cleanly.
Like a bone finally set right.
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and turned toward the waiting door.
"I'm going," he said. "And this time… I'm going for me."
His father grinned.
"Good. Try not to let the Primordial eat you on the way."
Rafe snorted.
"No promises."
He stepped through the door.
Light swallowed him.
And when he looked back—
The chamber was empty.
No cloak.No man.No father.
But for the first time since he woke up in this world…
Rafe didn't feel like he had left him behind.
He carried him forward.
With every step.
With every heartbeat.
With every choice.
Waiting for whatever the world dared to throw at him next.