It was me—a carbon copy. I looked up, shocked and frozen, my mind swirling with confusion.
"A perfect life, a perfect dream, only to be greeted with reality. It's not fair to a child."
What was going on?
"Well, you're not really a child, I guess. You're just a part of me that wishes he could change the past. But who doesn't? We've all made mistakes. Regrets are common for lowlifes like me and you. Us, I mean," he said.
"What's going on?" I asked, still terrified.
"What's not going on? You see, we are in danger—not here, but out there. Before all this, you lived a perfect day, a life that I yearned for and still do. But once you opened that door—my door—you realized you can't escape the past. No matter how many walls you put up, the faults within our soul, where we keep all the dark shit we've experienced, will open."
"Are you saying I'm not real? That none of this is real? Am I real?" I was no longer shaking. What was the point if I was just a fragment of the real thing?
"That's the thing. You are the part of me that wishes you were real. The messed-up, run-down houses were just my house, my past, while your house was the one you dreamt of. Trust me, you were more than real. I wanted to be you," he said.
"What's going on? What about the fox?"
"I have a couple of guesses, but this isn't about him. It's about us. It's about me."
I stood up as he stopped kneeling to look me in the eye. We both stood on our feet. His body changed; no longer the same features, but his height grew taller, and his face looked older.
"I am me and you are you, but that doesn't mean we are any different," I said, the feeling of enlightenment making me realize all of this was enthralling. The trauma was real, the loneliness was real. It was the past, my history.
"What kind of person do you want to be?" he said to me. I was confused. "Where do you envision yourself? What ambitions and dreams do you have? Listen closely. Promise me—no, I take that back—promise yourself that whenever you feel like the world hates you and you want to shout, let it out. But if you are given a chance to share your feelings with a friend, do so. I made the mistake of not doing that, but it hasn't ended yet."
He looked me in the eye.
I didn't know what to say. Everything was going too fast.
"Me and you, we don't need to fear the unknown, the darkness, the past, or the future. You don't ever need to envision it again. The worries of the past and future are not our responsibilities right now. Because in the present, right now, our friends are in danger. This is my vision. My eyes only seek the present. I am no longer thinking of what could be, only of what is."
This sort of thinking—was this how I envisioned the world and myself?
"Stop expecting the bad things in life. Start accepting the good and the bad. Trust me, you don't want to lose that."
Tears flowed down my cheeks, the raw emotion on my face so intense, yet I still cried in the arms of my older self. These words I was saying to someone else—in truth, these were the words I always wanted to hear from someone else. I needed this.
"We need to wake up. I'm now leaving you behind because you're not my past but me, right now, right here. Wake up."
I felt what seemed to be a strong resistance, but my older self-grabbed me. We were one being, no longer separating who we are.
The world around us started shattering into glass shards. The void could take us all for all I cared.I shot my eyes wide open. I was breathing heavily, my chest heaving up and down. I was bare-chested, the memory, the thoughts, and the feelings were one again. Blood stained my body, but it wasn't mine.I looked down below, a spider-like head stared back.
It wasn't alive; it was dead. I stood above it, a blade within its chest.
[Temporary gate of gear level 3 opened. Due to a boost in understanding, you have officially opened the gate of gear level 1.]
[You have gained the title: Killer of Arachnids. Massive boost to your resistance to venom.]
[You have slain the huntsman. You have gained a thousand gold coins, bonus pen weapon cards.]
[Webs of the World
Rank: Rare
Description: Gloves that can touch anything inanimate and gift it the ability to produce webs and strings that can become sharper and thinner than any normal blade. The strength of the material determines the strength of the threads.]