Still in that moment, Kael remained standing, his posture straight yet as if nailed in place by an invisible weight. His right hand clenched so tightly that the joints of his fingers turned white, as though he were trying to restrain something boiling deep within him.
"This rage… it pierces straight through my chest," he murmured—soft, yet sharp.
He could feel it—the same burning pulse as the red door's aura. Anger, suffering, chaos, loss, even hatred that never ceased to beat, as if all of it were trying to devour his heart whole.
His breath left him slowly, deep and heavy. Then his gaze—once dim—sharpened. No longer the fragile wall that had crumbled when he faced his mother, but the eyes of a man beginning to accept his deepest wounds, forging them into embers of resolve—as an Assassin who knew no fear.
Kael began to move.
One step.
CLACK.
The sound echoed—rigid, yet certain. Each step felt like a knock upon the surface of the world itself.
Second step.
CLACK.
Black water pooled across the empty floor, reflecting his faintly trembling silhouette. He remembered this place—Limbus Reveria. Yet now it was different. There was no beautiful sky above, no other doors calling out to him. Only a suffocating void… and one final door standing before him, glowing like a wound that refused to close.
Third step.
CLACK.
He did not stop. He only drew a brief breath, then spoke.
"I know who I am… I know I'm empty… and I know I should have died. But what I never knew… was how all of that happened."
"My greatest question is… why I'm still standing here now."
Kael's voice was low, but steady. The echo of his words spiraled through the hollow space, reverberating before fading away, as if the room itself were listening.
His steps grew surer. There was no trace of hesitation.
"Maybe… I've lost many memories," he continued quietly, his brow knitting tightly. "But every time I see… hear… or feel something that should have once existed in my life—little by little, I can remember it. Even if it makes my body tremble, even if it hurts, as though it's tearing me apart from the inside."
Kael fell silent for a moment, his shoulders rising and falling as he held back a heavy breath. His fingers trembled briefly—then clenched once more.
"Mother… and Father. They never truly left. They were always the ones trying to remind me… it wasn't me who tried to forget them."
Now his gaze locked straight onto the door. Its red aura flared wildly, like whispering flames. He was already so close—twenty-four steps that felt like a long journey through the labyrinth of his own mind.
"This world of sin and trial… was made to force me to see the truth. Piece by piece, as if everything had been arranged systematically to break me down—and rebuild me."
"If this is how the new world judges me… then I'll come and conquer every trial you place before me."
He stopped right in front of the door. There was no handle. No seam to open it. Only blood-red mist rolling endlessly, rigid demonic hands frozen in place, as though waiting to drag his body inside.
Kael leaned closer, the crimson light reflecting in both of his eyes. He whispered—softly, yet trembling with resolve.
"If what Mother said is true… that someone is waiting for me beyond this door… then perhaps this is the time to learn the final truth, even if I must bear the deepest hatred of all."
"…about the reality… of who saved me from death."
His steps halted before the red door. Both feet shifted a fraction closer—hesitant, yet never truly retreating. His fingers slowly extended, trembling faintly, as if about to touch a surface with no handle at all—a door that resembled a living wall of blood.
Silence reigned.Only Kael's heartbeat thundered in his chest, racing against the hiss of the red aura coiling around the door, like the whisper of hungry flames awaiting their prey.
But just as his fingertips were about to cross the boundary—something moved.
The red hands that had been frozen like statues suddenly writhed to life, shaking violently, flailing and clawing at the air, as if trying to seize Kael's body and drag him inside.
Yet that was not what stole his breath away.
At the same instant, from the gap within the door, a blood-red chain shot forth—thrust like a spear—then wrapped around his neck with an impossible speed.
"Ugh—what the—?! Khh…!"
His face tightened, veins bulging at his temples, his breathing breaking apart.
The chain constricted viciously, its heat like infernal embers scorching his skin. Kael instinctively grabbed it with both hands, struggling to tear himself free.
But the tighter he gripped it, the more his palms burned, seared by the crimson fire coursing through every link.
Then—from beyond the door—a voice rang out.A voice not born of humanity, but something like the echo of a fallen angel—sharp, thunderous, terrifying, yet unmistakably clear, like an inescapable summons.
"Get over here!"
That scream was like a commandment torn straight from his soul. And in that instant, the pull of the chain dragged Kael's body forward. He had no time to resist, no time to think—his form was ripped apart and swallowed into the vortex of the red door.
—
Darkness rushed in for a fraction of a second—then vanished.
What greeted him was not a world, but something resembling a white chamber—too white, silent, boundless—a vast emptiness filled only by countless red cubes drifting aimlessly in the air.
There were no walls to confine it, no sky to shelter it; only absolute silence, oppressive and cruel, as if he had been cast into a void that rejected all life.
GBRAKK!
Kael's body slammed into the hard floor, the sound echoing long and hollow through the emptiness.
He collapsed forward, both elbows buckling to catch his weight, his face contorting as pain surged through his throat, still burning from the chokehold.
His breathing came in ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Khahh… uhh…"
Before he could even lift his head, the sound of approaching footsteps reached him. Heavy, measured boots echoed sharply against the empty white floor—then stopped right in front of him.
A pair of polished black shoes, long-toed and gleaming, stood inches from his face, which nearly brushed the floor. From above, a voice descended—cold, mocking, and utterly certain.
"Took you long enough…"
The tone struck him like a slap. Kael froze, his eyes widening.
"You really are… weak. Pathetic. Worthless." The voice was heavy and sharp, slicing through Kael's dignity like a blade.
With what little strength he had left, Kael lifted his head, trying to see the one speaking to him. But in the very next instant, a brutal impact crashed down.
BRUKK!
The man stomped hard on Kael's head, as if intent on grinding his skull into the cold white floor. The pressure wrenched his neck, forcing his face down, his teeth chattering as pain stabbed deep into his bones.
"Ahh…" the man exhaled softly, with a cruel delight. "This feeling… it's exquisite. Stepping on the head of a doll that thinks it's human."
Kael struggled, his hands trembling as he tried to push against the foot with all his strength. But the stomp remained unmoving, as though the weight of a thousand stones bore down on his head.
"No, no. It won't be that easy."
"Damn it!"
"You're always like this," the voice chuckled quietly. "Always trying to get back up… even though you already know the outcome."
"So let's make this quick," it continued coldly. "Kael, why don't you stop pretending?"
The man leaned closer, his voice lowering—filthy, intimate.
"Or are you more comfortable being my little pet? A dog that finally understands one thing: you exist only to be stepped on."
Kael fell silent for a moment…
But not in surrender. That silence was more like embers crushed beneath pressure—seething, swelling, ready to erupt. His jaw tightened, his brows drew low, refusing to accept being toyed with.
Slowly, a low hiss slipped through his clenched teeth.
"Turning me… into your beloved pet dog? Don't make me laugh…!!"
The marks of the red chain still burned across his neck and the skin of his hands, searing like fire-carved wounds.
With all his strength, Kael pressed both palms against the endless white floor. He forced his body upward—even if only slightly.
And for a brief instant, the foot crushing his head lifted by a single centimeter—only to slam down again.
"I told you. Dogs… are not allowed to resist."The voice was cold now, utterly devoid of mercy.
His foot lifted high again—not to grant freedom, but to deepen the suffering. Then—
GRUKK!
The stomp crashed down hard onto Kael's head.
"Puppets are nothing more than living frames," the voice spat. "Test materials. Nothing else!"
GRUKK!
The foot came down again.
"Remember that!"
Kael was crushed back into the floor, pressed even deeper, his face forced against the cold white surface. Blood felt as though it might burst from his nose and ears, yet his eyes—blurred though they were—still saw, still burned with defiance.
Then, slowly, the man bent down.Not hastily—but with a calmness that was deeply humiliating.
His left hand rose and clamped roughly around Kael's chin. Black leather–gloved fingers dug into his jaw, biting into bone, forcing Kael's face upward without mercy. There was no room to turn away.
Kael let out a low groan. Yet his gaze remained lit—sharp, searing—embers of rage that refused to be extinguished, let alone crushed.
"You…"
Before him, the black-robed figure leaned low—yet still higher, still dominant. His posture was composed, almost elegant. A long-beaked mask of pitch darkness concealed his entire face, two crimson lenses glowing steadily beneath it, staring without a single blink.
Not human eyes.But living embers—cold, aware, and judging.
Kael's breath came fast. His jaw tightened under the pressure of those fingers.
"Impossible…" he muttered, his voice heavy with surging thoughts. "…you too?"
The figure fell silent.
Stillness descended, weighing down the space between them. As if he were deliberately allowing time—for Kael's reflection to be etched perfectly behind those red lenses. Every fracture. Every hatred. Every denial.
Then his voice emerged.
Soft. Heavy. Echoing deep—like it came from inside Kael's own head.
"…I am you."
He tilted his head slightly.
"You may call me… Noxis."
A brief pause.
"The poison of the world."
Kael exhaled sharply. His breath was heavy—not from shock, but because the truth was slowly taking shape on its own.
"So… there really is another version of me," he muttered. "Then… the one before—"
"Yes."The interruption was cold. Immediate.
"The one before was merely the shadow of your malice," Noxis continued calmly. "The impulse to drown the world in absolute chaos."
He leaned in closer. His voice lowered—thin, precise, like a blade slicing slowly.
"But I—I am the anger you buried."
The grip on Kael's chin tightened.
"The hatred you locked away."
"The friend you lost because of your own selfishness."
"The deaths you caused."
"And the betrayal that crippled you."
Each word landed like a nail, driven in one by one.
"All the rage you chose to forget…" Noxis whispered. "…that is my form."
Kael fell silent. His face stiffened. Anger and fear collided, tearing at his chest.
"Bullshit!" he finally shouted. "You wouldn't understand any of it—not even once!"
Noxis let out a soft chuckle. The rasp of it slithered into Kael's ears, creeping like venom.
"Ohohoh…"
"How beautiful, hearing your denial."
He straightened slightly, looking down at Kael through those steadily glowing red lenses.
"Then answer me, Kael," he said gently—cruelly. "Why is your heart beating so fast?"
"Why does your body tremble every time you look at me?"
A red chain manifested in his right hand. He snapped it against the floor—it hissed like an iron serpent, scattering crimson sparks through the empty air.
"You already know the answer," Noxis said calmly. "Because I… am who you truly are."
He took one step forward.
"Go on. Deny it," he said. "Because every step you take toward the truth… will always lead you back to me."
A pause.
"And I—will not let you run from yourself."
Kael ground his teeth. With what strength remained, he knocked the hand away from his chin and staggered back several steps, forcing distance between them. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling—but his eyes had hardened now, no longer afraid.
"If you really are me…" Kael's voice trembled, yet rang clear.
"…then I'll destroy you with my own hands."
He clenched his fist.
"Here, now!"
***