The air was thick here, charged with an almost electrical tension. Every step I took felt like wading through mud, each breath tasting of iron and decay. This place seemed less like a new reality and more like the twisted remnants of one, everything here driven by an insatiable force that stripped away whatever softness or warmth might have existed.
Ahead of me, the other Takeru crouched like a predator, his eyes darting around as if sizing up the very ground beneath him, looking for anything worth claiming. Unlike the pride and wrath versions of myself, this Takeru had no grand authority or searing rage. His intensity was different—an endless craving that made him appear both empty and ravenous at once.
As I approached him, he shifted his gaze, his eyes gleaming with a sharpness that made my skin prickle. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, dark shadows under his eyes and a feral glint that betrayed a mind constantly calculating, hoarding, seeking.
"You're here to take what's mine, aren't you?" he asked, his voice low and dripping with suspicion.
I held up my hands, trying to show I wasn't a threat. "I'm not here to take anything. I'm just… trying to understand."
The other Takeru let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "Understand? You can't understand what it's like—always needing more, knowing nothing will ever be enough." He spat the words, his tone filled with a bitterness that clawed at the air. "Everything you gain slips through your fingers, leaving you empty. Hollow. So you keep grabbing, keep reaching, but it's never enough."
His words struck a chord deep within me. There were times I'd felt that pull myself—the moments when I wanted more than I deserved, more than I knew I could handle. But this version of myself had fallen deeper, become consumed by the hunger. He'd lost himself to it.
"Is that why you're like this?" I asked quietly. "Because you think if you keep taking, you'll finally feel… whole?"
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out, but instead, he gave a sad, twisted smile. "Wholeness? There's no such thing. I know that now." He glanced at his hands, his fingers curled tightly, veins standing out as if he were clinging to something invisible. "I just take and take, hoping that one day, I won't feel this… void. But it's always there, gnawing at me."
I felt a pang of empathy for him, a flicker of understanding. I knew that emptiness he described—the sense of being incomplete, of reaching for something to fill the gaps. But I had always held back, feared what I might become if I gave in completely. He, on the other hand, had embraced it, let it consume him.
"Is that why everything here feels… dead?" I asked, gesturing to the barren landscape around us. "Because all you do is take?"
The other Takeru sneered, his eyes flashing with a strange mix of anger and defensiveness. "Dead? No. Everything here is mine. I've claimed it. Every shadow, every stone, every breath of air—it's mine." His voice dropped to a whisper, a chilling note in it. "I'll take whatever I need to fill the emptiness."
I shook my head, feeling an ache in my chest as I watched him. "But it's not filling anything, is it? You're still empty. Still… hungry."
He clenched his jaw, his fists shaking with the effort of holding back whatever resentment he felt toward me—toward himself. "What do you know?" he hissed. "You think you're better than me? Think you're above this? But we're the same, you and I. You just haven't admitted it yet. Deep down, you're afraid of wanting too much. Afraid of what it would mean to take what you want without holding back."
His words echoed in my mind, sharp and cutting, and I felt the truth in them. There was a part of me that feared this hunger, this insatiable need that might consume me if I allowed it to. But I couldn't let myself become him, couldn't let that emptiness be all I had left.
"No," I said, my voice steady despite the tension thrumming in the air. "I won't let myself become this. I don't want to live my life as a slave to my own desires, constantly wanting more, never satisfied. I may be afraid of wanting too much, but at least I know there's something beyond this hunger."
The other Takeru's eyes darkened, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "Suit yourself. But you'll see. One day, you'll reach a point where the emptiness is all that's left, and you'll come crawling back to me. You'll come begging to know how to fill it."
I held his gaze, feeling a strange sense of pity as I looked into the eyes of the version of myself who had surrendered to the endless hunger, the version who had let greed hollow him out until there was nothing left but the craving.
"I won't," I said softly, almost to myself. "I'll find another way."
He scoffed, turning away as if the sight of me disgusted him. "Get out of here, then. This place isn't for the weak." His voice was laced with disdain, but I could hear the sadness behind it, the faint echo of something that had once been whole, now broken and scattered across this barren wasteland.
Without another word, I stepped back, letting the emptiness of his world fall away from me as I focused on the strength within myself, the knowledge that there was more to life than the endless pursuit of fulfillment. I had to believe that, even if he couldn't.
---
The world shifted again, the bleak landscape dissolving, and I was falling, plunging into darkness that felt colder, deeper than anything I had experienced so far. I braced myself, not knowing what lay ahead, but determined to face it, no matter how consuming or terrifying it might be.
When I finally hit solid ground, I opened my eyes to find myself in a dimly lit, labyrinthine hallway. The walls were dark and oppressive, lined with mirrors that distorted my reflection, twisting my features into grotesque shapes. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I saw the faint outlines of other figures moving within the mirrors, flickering in and out of view.
This place felt different—more sinister, more alive. The air was thick with tension, like something terrible lurked just out of sight, waiting to strike. Every step I took echoed down the hallway, a reminder of how alone I was here.
And then, from the shadows, I heard a voice—a low, mocking chuckle that sent chills down my spine.
"Well, well," the voice drawled, dripping with malice. "Look who's stumbled into the heart of his own desire."
I turned, my pulse racing, and there he stood—a version of myself, tall and imposing, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. He was draped in dark, elegant clothing, his posture regal yet menacing, his expression one of cold amusement.
This wasn't just a reflection of my greed or envy. This was a version of myself who reveled in control, who wielded his desires like weapons, who had embraced his own darkness and let it define him.
"Welcome to your nightmare," he said, his smile widening, his eyes filled with a hunger that went beyond greed or pride. This was something deeper, something rooted in the darkest parts of me that I had always feared.
I took a step back, my heart pounding, as I realized the truth of where I was—and who I was facing.
The embodiment of lust.
The next test had begun.