The sword split and shook the ground, the air, and the sky. There was almost no chance of escape. That one strike could kill a human. Were Ramona and Noctis lucky to only fall into the deepest part of the infinity realm, or would it have been better to just die?
The void stretched on forever—an ashen plain of crumbling ruins beneath a leaden sky, where every footstep echoed into nothingness. Ramona walked without direction, the weight of silence pressing around her like a shroud. Behind her, Noctis Void's measured steps were the only proof she wasn't completely alone.
"Can you explain our situation, Nox? I'll call you that from now on."
The world around them was fragmented—ground scattered and floating in all directions. Abandoned ruins draped in cobwebs lent the realm an eerie stillness. The sky was a dull, oppressive gray, save for a strange light beaming from the main ruin. It wasn't a lamp, but something far greater—something infused with Luxis. Its majestic glow piqued Ramona's curiosity.
"I'm not sure about the mighty entity we saw before arriving here," Noctis replied. "Maybe it was a guardian, testing whether we're worthy to ascend to the upperworld. As for now, I believe this is a land of the dead—souls trapped by deep emotional wounds, unable to move on."
But his explanation felt too simple. Ramona knew it wasn't just due to negligence or forgotten pain— these souls were victims of pure evil. People who had been taken for granted, used, discarded. The world knew what it was doing. And it continued, unabated.
Gravity here pressed down heavily—maybe fifteen meters per second squared. It made even breathing a chore.
She couldn't understand why. Normally, she didn't feel hunger, exhaustion, or sickness. But here, the air was thin—her lungs screamed for oxygen.
Noctis seemed fine. Of course, he was a devil.
I never thought I'd make it back to the upperworld.
I'm glad he's here… At least I'm not alone.
Her unease stemmed from Arthur. She feared he would act without restraint and accelerate the world's end.
I hope the world is still intact… And I hope he is, too.
Her heart spoke silently as she exhaled slowly, chest tight with memories of her studies—and the man she once promised to marry. Yet, strangely, she felt a flicker of peace. With Noctis beside her, the void felt less like oblivion, and more like possibility.
A cold wind swept her hair, carrying the scent of something lost. She turned to her companion—his silver hair shimmered faintly, red eyes glowing like embers. He seemed made for this place, embodying both shadow and light.
"You okay?" he asked softly, though without much concern.
She looked terrible—pale and disoriented. His question irritated her.
"Do I look okay to you?"
"I could carry you," he offered playfully, grinning. "Make you feel like a princess for a while. Might lift your mood… and your stamina."
"…hhhuuh—!" Ramona let out a long sigh. She was too tired to be mad.
Is he seriously flirting with me in a place like this? Not even your looks make that okay!
She stumbled forward, too exhausted to respond. The ruins seemed to shift—arches crumbled, statues warped into grotesque forms. Shadows flickered at the edge of her vision. This place wasn't just dead; it was alive in all the wrong ways.
"Let's rest here. You look awful," Noctis finally said with genuine concern.
"You just noticed?! I've felt awful since we got here!" Her patience was razor-thin, yet oddly enough, she hadn't admitted she needed a break—unlike her usual straightforward self.
"My apologies, Miss Ramona. I should've been looking after you more carefully. Are there any specific symptoms?"
"I… don't know… nauseous, dizzy… probably…" Her voice trailed off, becoming faint. She was drained—completely overwhelmed.
Startled, Noctis gently laid her down in a safer spot. He checked her pulse—normal. Then pressed his ear against her chest— her heartbeat was fast, her breathing shallow.
He opened her eyes—pale. Anemic. Dangerously low.
This place was affecting her physically. He had to act fast.
But there were no creatures nearby—nothing edible, nothing that could replenish her strength.
Ramona realized what was happening, and the way Noctis hovered over her with concern.
"It's alright. I just need rest, okay?"
"…This might be a bit inappropriate, but I can assure you, it would work." He gripped her wrists to keep her still. His head lowered—and he bit her neck, injecting his saliva directly into her veins.
Ramona gasped, horrified. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?!"
Noctis laughed. "You're yelling again. That's a good sign, no?"
"I just bite you in order to increase your vitality. You're clearly better now."
"…Hah—?!"
Her brain short-circuited, somewhat that was feels wrong so she mad and however she forget to thanking the devil who just saved her.
"Ahahaha—of course there are other methods. But this one's my favorite. Quick and effective, Plus can bring us pleasure. Though my second favorite involves saliva transfer… mouth to mouth."
"Uugh—Stop talking!!" she snapped, red-faced. Death by embarrassment was becoming a real possibility. Noctis just kept laughing—clearly enjoying himself far too much.
"cant you just hold my handor somehing more appropriat? why have to do that?" Ramona still need answer.
"Ahahah! That's kitchen secrets~" He can't explain it. I would dangerous if she knew.
kitchen secret my ass..... She's grumbling inside her head
"It seems the lingering effect got to me," Ramona muttered, calming down. "This gravity's too strong. Even breathing hurts. I was low on oxygen, my heart working too hard… But you saved me. I'm… grateful. Thank you."
Then—through the hush—a sound: childish laughter, bright and innocent, slicing through the stillness like a song.
Ramona froze.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered.
Noctis's eyes sharpened. "Children." He fell silent, listening.
Her heart thudded. In a place like this, laughter should not exist.
She turned to the sound, resolve rising. "Let's go," she said. "If it's like what you say, they probably need help."
Noctis fell into step beside her, and together they walked across the fractured stones—drawn toward the impossible sound of a child's choir.