He started making his way while holding the sword tightly in front of him as a shield.
The more he walks, the more it seems futile. Because it seems like he was walking in the same place from the last one thousand and fifty nine breaths. No change at all.
In the end, he feels like giving up. But he knows that it doesn't matter whether he walks or sits, this pitch black darkness will remain the same, leading into changing nothing. So, he removed the sword from the scabbard and started slicing into thin air. Again futile. It's like no matter what he does the result remains the same. Futile.
Suddenly the flash of light passes by him, just like the last time, when he was transported to this world from the real world. But unlike last time, this flash of light brought him to the world of light, pure golden, bright light from pitch black darkness. It's like he was playing colours with someone or maybe the colours were playing with him.
