I wasn't in the Blood River, nor was I in the Warehouse.
A long corridor stretched out before me, its walls and floor stark white. Doors lined both sides, as far as I could see. The sharp scent of disinfectant filled the air. A hospital.
The doors were shadowed and black, all except a white one, looming ahead of me. Behind me was nothing but pitch-black emptiness.
I started walking toward the white door. Once I reached it, I took a deep breath and opened it. Inside was someone lying in a hospital bed.
The man looked like he might have been in his late thirties, maybe early forties—it was hard to tell. He was wrinkled, frail, and had long, grey-white hair.
"Th-that's rude," a voice stammered.
I turned to see a young girl, maybe thirteen, with short black hair and bright purple eyes, a light blush on her cheeks. She wore a white hoodie and black sweatpants.
[Pic]
"N-not a girl," The apparently male corrected me, voice wavering. "I-I'm also eighteen, j-just like you."
What? Could this guy read my mind?
"It m-makes sense you d-don't recognize me," he said, stumbling over his words, "or who he is." He pointed to the man in the hospital bed. I frowned. 'Makes sense?'
"H-how about we s-sit outside?" he suggested. I nodded, and suddenly, there were white chairs outside the door.
"So, who are you?" I asked, sitting down. "The last thing I remember is diving into the Blood River. I assume you know why?"
He straightened up a little, his posture more composed. "Y-yes, I do. Th-these are y-your memories."
I frowned again. "So what do I need to do? Accept myself again?"
He giggled, like I'd said something hilarious. I didn't like him.
Then his expression shifted to something sad, yet still amused. "If it w-were as easy as a-accepting yourself, the world would b-be a much better place, wouldn't it?"
Huh. We sort of think alike. Still don't like him.
Before I could respond, he spoke again. "I-I think instead of talking, you should s-see it for yourself."
Without warning, I was yanked into one of the black doors.
-??? POV-
People often mistook me for a girl. Not that it mattered when I was younger.
My dad owned a house cleaning service. Our mother had died giving birth to my little brother. Twelve years passed, and Dad started dating a woman named Selene. He wanted to marry her, and she agreed, but only on the condition of a prenuptial agreement, along with a contract that stated if he became unconscious with no signs of waking, his assets would go to her if there was no one to represent him in court.
Smitten with love, he agreed. Two more years went by. I had started helping Dad with the company, cleaning homes and getting paid, everything seemed fine.
I was walking home from a flower shop having bought some flowers for my little brother when I got a call from the hospital, telling me that my dad and brother were both sick. I ran the moment they hung up the phone.
Dad was too ill to run the company, so Selene took over until he could recover. A year passed, and they were still in the hospital. My little brother had fallen into a coma, and they said Dad might be next.
Selene was worried, I was too. The hospital bills were piling up, and it was becoming impossible to keep up. "We might need to sell the company, Selene," I suggested.
She slapped me after that.
A few days later, she filed for divorce. I wasn't old enough to take Dad's place in court, so it was over quickly. Afterward, she disappeared.
The bills were redirected to my bank, and I needed money fast. I decided to use my appearance to make money makeup tutorials, beauty product reviews. Each one boosted my popularity.
The money I made went straight to the hospital bills, but as my popularity started to fade, the costs kept rising. Dad found out what I was doing, and he wasn't happy. "You're selling yourself to strangers! I know your brother wouldn't want this, and I certainly don't want it for you!"
A few days later, he slipped into a coma. I started reviewing clothes next. The smaller the clothes and the cuter the act, the better the video did. It was disgusting. Dad died when I was seventeen, and my little brother showed no signs of waking.
Smile. Turn my back to the camera. Laugh. That's all it took, in a tight shirt and pants. Even if I hated it. I'd do it forever, for my little brother.
When I was eighteen, I ran into Selene on my way to the hospital. She looked shocked at first, then she laughed, leaning in to whisper in my ear, "I heard your dear daddy is dead, with you're brother showing no signs of waking up." She walked off, still laughing.
I didn't cry until I reached my brother's bedside. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, over and over again.
That night, I lay in bed, having just finished watching some anime. Sleep called, and I closed my eyes.
The next morning, I woke up to something I didn't expect.
"It's bigger than before I slept."
-Ryou POV-
I had experienced the memories like they had just happened. In a way, they did.
I found myself outside the black door, my past self standing in front of me. "He's still waiting, you know? We can go back. There's enough mana to open a rift, send our soul back home, and have enough to help our little brother."
That was a shocking revelation, go back home?
"We could change things. We could to become the strongest human there" he continued.
He's right. I could go back home. I wouldn't have to worry about world-ending threats happening on a daily basis.
"We wouldn't have to deal with Redhead anymore, or her slaves," he added, with a sneer.
Right, Redhead.
"So, what do we say? Let's go back, shall we?" He pointed toward the other end of the corridor. I could see the morning sky there, home. "Well, we don't have all day! That old crow might do something to pull us out."
The frown that had been on my face since he showed up deepened.
"I'm not you. The experiences I've had aren't yours."
He snorted. "Yes, we are. We have the same soul, dummy."
I started heading toward the pitch-black side of the corridor. "I've stated it before. I'm Ryou Sasaki, the future strongest human."
He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me back. "What about our little brother?!"
I stopped, glancing over my shoulder and looking down at him. "I know he would be upset with me for not giving Redhead a chance, for not taking the time to see the beauty in a new world."
I began walking again, ignoring my old self's protests.
"You can't! What happens if you die?! Aren't you scared?!"
I stepped into the darkness. "Yes, of course I'm scared. Who wouldn't be? I don't know what happens after death. But what I do know is, until my heart stops, I'll keep fighting."
He was forced to let go as I fully entered the darkness. I began free-falling, and in the distance, I heard my old self's voice one last time: "You'll regret this!"
No, I don't think I will.
-Azazel POV-
I wasn't exactly sure that completing the ritual would work. I mean, it was near Trihexa, for Dad's sake! But something was happening for sure. Ryou's magic surged, uncontrolled and, most worryingly, it felt cursed. 'Did something go wrong?'
It radiated off him, reminiscent of the Bael clan's famed Power of Destruction. 'This is concerning.'
He charged at me with speed comparable to someone at low Ultimate class. 'That's a significant jump in strength.' Dodging his attack was easy enough, which reassured me he wasn't completely conscious or had gone insane. 'Do I need to kill him? Please wake up, drinking buddy.'
In an unexpected turn, he summoned Muramasa, and this time it radiated with the same cursed mana. He launched an arc of cursed magic at me from his katana, and I braced myself. 'That's definitely new.' I summoned a light spear to break through it, but instead of breaking through, I was pushed back.
I was preparing to counterattack when I saw him stop moving, then collapse onto the ground. 'Please wake up. Sirzechs might kill me if he finds out.'
-Ryou POV-
Azazel's face was the first thing I woke up to. "Could you move your ugly mug away?" I grumbled. He raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry. How are you feeling?"
Sitting up on the couch, I took stock of any changes in my body. "I feel great. The memories I forgot about have returned." As I looked around, I noticed what seemed to be cuts in the ground. "What happened?"
Azazel explained what he saw. "So, I'm still human, right?"
He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, you are. I used some magic artifacts to check. So, what do you plan to do now?"
I got up and stretched, then looked at him thoughtfully. "Think you can help me train until Redhead's Rating Game happens?" He looked unsure, so I added something that I hoped would persuade him. "We can drink the whole time and place bets."
That did the trick. He readily agreed.
And so, for the next nine days, we fought since that was the quickest way for me to get stronger. Azazel told me that, as a physical fighter, my strength, along with my experience, would be at the peak of Middle-High class. He mainly showed me how to control my magic, how to direct it into Muramasa, which I could now summon and unsummon at will. While I could unleash an arc of cursed magic that I thought was named aptly, "Cursed Slash" it was simple and to the point. However, it wasn't as strong as Azazel had claimed when I was in a uncontrolled state. Finally, he taught me how to get a fair assessment of someone's strength.
Nine days later, we were sitting on the couch, half-drunk already, watching the start of the Rating Game.