Kaizen's body trembled violently as he gasped for air, his lungs searing with the cold of the frozen continent. His fingernails dug into the ice beneath him, his breath ragged, his skin burning from the biting wind. His mind screamed at him, refusing to accept the truth. The village. Aoi. Sakura. Itsuro. The warmth of their laughter. The pain of his suffering in Rioshima. The agony of five years in that wretched cell. None of it was real.
He clutched his head, his fingers gripping his hair so tightly that he nearly tore it from his scalp. The demons' laughter echoed in his skull, their voices overlapping in a chorus of madness.
"It was all a dream, Kaizen."
"A beautiful dream we made just for you."
"Did you enjoy it?"
Kaizen's body convulsed. His hands raked across his arms, clawing at his own flesh as if trying to peel away the false reality that had been embedded in his soul. His nails tore through his skin, blood dripping onto the snow. His breath was uneven, shallow.
"You thought you had escaped, didn't you?"
"You thought you had found peace."
"You thought she loved you."
The last words stabbed deeper than any blade ever could. His stomach churned, bile rising in his throat. Aoi. Sakura. Itsuro. The memories he cherished, the love he held for them—fabricated lies.
His entire body shook. The world around him blurred. His vision swam in a haze of ice and shadow. No. No. No. It had been real. He had touched them, spoken to them, held them. He had lived with them. But as the demons' laughter continued, the cracks in his mind deepened.
He lifted his head slowly. The world around him was desolate—an endless frozen wasteland. There was no village, no warm firelight, no home. Only ice, darkness, and the pale glow of the moon casting shadows upon the untouched snow.
His throat was raw as he let out a scream—a wretched, hollow sound that carried into the void.
"Where am I?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Where you've always been," the demons taunted.
Kaizen's eyes darted across the landscape, searching for something, anything, that would prove them wrong. His breath hitched as he saw something in the distance—a reflection in the ice. He crawled toward it, his limbs barely responding.
As he reached the frozen surface, he saw himself. His true self.
His face was gaunt, his skin pale, his body thinner than he remembered. His once-sharp eyes were dull, lifeless. His lips trembled as he reached out to touch the ice, his fingers brushing against the cold surface.
"This… this is me?"
The reflection smirked.
"The real you."
Kaizen's breath hitched. If everything had been a lie… then who was he now?
His hands curled into fists, his nails biting into his palms. He had been deceived. Manipulated. Used like a puppet in some sick game. And for what?
"Why?" he growled, his voice hoarse.
"Because you are ours," the demons whispered.
"Because you were never meant to be free."
Kaizen clenched his teeth, his jaw tightening until it ached. He had trusted the illusion, allowed himself to believe in it. He had given himself to it. But now, as the truth bled through every crack in his mind, he felt nothing but rage.
He pushed himself up, his legs shaking beneath him. His muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself to stand. He would not break. Not here. Not now.
His eyes flickered to the vast emptiness before him. There was only one path forward.
"You want me to despair," he muttered.
The demons chuckled. "We want you to understand."
Kaizen exhaled sharply, the breath escaping his lips in a white mist. He had wasted enough time in a dream.
His journey was only beginning.