Mystic sat hunched over his work, surrounded by the pieces of technology he had spent hours putting together, his fingers moving carefully as he finished the final adjustments. The metal clicked into place beneath his hands, and when he finally tightened the last component, the familiar shape of the kinetic gauntlets stared back at him.
They were replicas of the same weapons the yandere killer had used against him during their fight in the dream world, during his second loop. Mystic slowly lifted them, turning them over in his hands, his eyes following every familiar mechanism.
The sight dragged something uncomfortable through his mind, memories he could no longer fully reach, fragments that had been torn away from him when his death-loop ability brought him back.
He looked over his shoulder, toward the woman standing nearby, and his expression shifted.
He barely recognised her anymore. The person standing there was his mother, but the memories that should have connected him to her were filled with empty spaces.
"Mom, I have to go to the police station, I need to help Harold track down and kill the killer," Mystic said, slipping the gauntlets into place before turning toward the front door.
His fingers brushed the handle, but behind him, the movement of his mother suddenly stopped. Her hands froze halfway through whatever she had been doing, her smile remaining on her face for several seconds, almost as though it had been left there by mistake.
Then, slowly, the corners of her mouth lowered, her eyes changed first, the warmth disappearing from them so completely that the expression on her face no longer looked like the same person Mystic had been speaking to.
She stared at his back, watching him prepare to walk away, her fingers slowly curling inward.
"Go? So, you're not staying after all, I thought we could catch up, it's only been four years since I have seen you," she muttered, her voice soft as she began walking toward him.
One step, then another, her movements strangely calm, until Mystic's back touched the front door, he looked down at her approaching feet, then back at her face, his body refusing to move as she stopped directly in front of him.
Her expression remained fixed, but something behind her eyes had become completely different. There was no sadness in them anymore, no simple disappointment, only a possessive emptiness that made the small space between them feel tighter with every passing second.
"Yeah, I told you, I'm meeting Harold to discuss a plan, I might be gone forever if this fails," Mystic answered, his shoulders pressing harder against the door as he watched her reaction.
The smile vanished from her face. For several seconds, she said nothing at all, then one short laugh escaped her, quiet and strangely empty, before her gaze dropped toward the kitchen.
She turned away from him, walked over to the counter, and reached down and when she straightened again, something metallic caught the light between her fingers.
"Forever, that would be a little dramatic, wouldn't it?" she said, looking down at the knife now resting in her hand.
The blade remained pointed toward the floor, but her grip around its handle tightened.
Mystic's breathing became uneven, sweat forming against his skin as he watched her raise her eyes toward him, the red glow within them was no longer hidden, burning through the darkness of her expression.
She took another step, and Mystic's body stiffened as his mind raced through every possible explanation, every memory he still possessed, every fragment he had lost, while the woman standing in front of him looked less and less like the mother he thought he knew.
"No, no, you're right," she said, nodding quickly, her smile suddenly returning as she stepped closer, "You're right, you're allowed to have this job, you're allowed to leave the house, you're allowed to have a life."
Her words sounded almost reassuring, but her hand tightened around the knife until her knuckles became pale, the smile stretched wider, far beyond anything natural, while her eyes remained cold.
Then she tilted her head, the expression on her face changing again, and Mystic could see something inside her slipping apart and for one moment she looked almost gentle, the next, the warmth was gone, replaced by an expression that made his stomach twist.
Mystic could not move, his back remained against the door as Star approached him, each step bringing the knife closer. Her face carried an almost peaceful expression, but the red glow in her eyes remained fixed on him.
He remembered the way she had been moments earlier, smiling, speaking softly, acting like she wanted nothing more than to spend time with the son she had not seen for four years.
Now, that same face seemed completely disconnected from the person she had been. Her fingers shifted around the knife, her arm hanging loosely at her side, and Mystic watched the blade move with every step she took toward him.
The two versions of her seemed to exist within the same body, one desperately wanting her son beside her, the other willing to destroy anything that could make him leave.
"Mom, whatever you do, drop the knife," Mystic tried to mutter, but his words barely escaped his throat before the blade suddenly flashed upward.
He twisted his body aside, the knife cutting through the space where his face had been a moment earlier, his shoulder slammed against the door, and he stumbled sideways, his hands instinctively rising as Star turned toward him.
Another swing came immediately, forcing him to move again, the blade passed close enough for him to feel the motion beside his skin, and his eyes widened as he realised she was no longer threatening him. She was actually trying to kill him.
He moved as quickly as he could, dodging each attack, his feet scraping against the floor as he tried to keep distance between himself and the knife.
The kinetic gauntlets remained on his arms, but he hesitated to use them against her since she was his mother, or at least, the person his remaining memories told him was his mother.
Yet the woman before him continued advancing, her expression shifting with every movement, a smile appeared, then disappeared, her eyes widening, narrowing, softening, and then becoming vicious again.
Mystic could almost see the two personalities fighting over her face, one reaching for him, wanting him to stay, while the other looked at him as though his existence itself had become something she needed to possess.
"Why should I drop the knife, you will probably run away, run away to Harold, run away from the person who gave LIFE TO YOU, I DON'T BELIEVE YOU AT ALL," she shouted, her voice tearing through the room as her face twisted with anger.
The gentle expression was gone, her eyes burned brighter, her grip on the knife becoming tighter as she lunged toward him again.
Mystic barely managed to avoid the strike, stumbling backward as the blade slammed into the surface behind him. Her breathing became heavier, her face contorting with a rage that seemed completely different from the quiet, almost affectionate woman who had spoken to him moments before.
Then, just as quickly, the anger flickered, her mouth twitching into another smile, as though she had forgotten why she had become furious in the first place.
"Mom, your disorder is activating, comeback to the second personality, I won't leave," Mystic pleaded, raising his hands as he tried to keep her attention on his words instead of the knife.
For a brief moment, her arm stopped, her eyes stared directly into his, and the anger seemed to loosen from her face. Mystic took a shallow breath, believing for a fraction of a second that she had heard him but then her expression changed again.
Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and the knife moved before he could react, the blade drove directly into his left eye socket. Pain exploded through Mystic's body while his hands flew upward, his fingers trembling as his knees weakened beneath him.
The world around him blurred, one side of his vision disappearing beneath the shock as he staggered, his back striking the door again, but Star did not stop. The knife moved once more, tearing into his abdomen and opening his guts.
Mystic's body folded forward, his breathing breaking into shallow, desperate gasps as blood spread across his clothes, his legs finally gave out beneath him, and he crashed onto the floor, the kinetic gauntlets striking against the ground beside his body.
Star stood over him, completely still, the knife remained in her hand, but she made no further attempt to strike, instead, she simply stared down at him.
The anger that had twisted her face moments ago had disappeared, leaving behind an expression of satisfaction, her lips slowly curved upward, and her eyes softened into something almost affectionate. There was no horror in her expression, no regret, no hesitation.
She looked down at Mystic as though she had finally accomplished something she had been waiting to do for years. Mystic lay on the ground, staring upward at his own mother through his remaining vision, his body trembled, his breath coming weaker each time.
The woman above him looked almost pleased with herself, the same person who had smiled at him moments before, yet somehow completely different.
Mystic tried to move his arm, but the strength had already begun leaving his body, his fingers scraped weakly against the floor, his eyes struggling to remain open as darkness began creeping into the edges of his vision.
The two personalities seemed to blur together in his fading sight, he could still see the mother who had wanted him to stay, the woman who had spoken softly about catching up after four years apart. Then he saw the other one, the woman who had raised a knife because he had decided to leave, whose anger had exploded when she believed he would choose Harold over her but Mystic could no longer separate the two.
They existed together, smiling down at him, their contradiction becoming one final image burned into his remaining consciousness.
His breathing became shallower, the darkness spread farther across his vision, swallowing the room piece by piece. Mystic tried to draw another breath, but something felt wrong inside his abdomen, the wound in his guts twisted painfully, his body jerking as his remaining air suddenly caught in his throat.
His eyes widened as he realised the damage inside him was doing something he could no longer control. Mystic's body was dragged upward by the sudden movement inside his own abdomen, his head lifted from the floor, his remaining eye widening as he struggled desperately for air.
His intestines, torn open by the knife, had shifted inside him, pressing upward and obstructing his ability to breathe. His hands clawed weakly at the floor, his fingers scraping against it as his chest fought for another breath that would not come.
His vision faded further, the red glow of his mother's eyes becoming the last thing he could see. Star remained above him, watching without moving, her expression still carrying that disturbing sense of satisfaction.
Mystic's body twitched once, then again, his strength disappearing with every failed attempt to breathe, the darkness swallowed almost everything now, leaving only fragments of light, fragments of his mother, and the crushing sensation inside his own body.
His fingers finally stopped moving as his chest gave one final, weak attempt to rise, but the air never reached his lungs, his remaining eye stared blankly upward as the last traces of consciousness disappeared.
The intestines that had been torn open by his mother's knife had become the final thing that killed him, cutting off his ability to breathe from within his own body and for the third time, the world vanished from Mystic's death-filled eyes, and darkness completely consumed him.