Chapter 7
<47 days of hell>(10)
✧A Dystopia worse than any hell(1)✧
So, this tragedy finally ends. But even as it does, I can't truly grasp the reality of it all. The world has fallen apart, and I am still standing here, staring into the abyss. All the people—those whose names I can no longer remember, those whose faces blur in the depths of my mind—died alongside me. They didn't want this. They never wanted to die. But some of them, perhaps out of exhaustion, perhaps from the weight of it all, sought death as a way out, hoping it would be their final escape from this endless, cursed existence.
But what does death even mean here? What is the end when time itself is nothing more than a loop, an unending cycle of torment? We die, we wake, we die again. No matter how much we beg for release, no matter how many times we plead for salvation, it never comes.
Salvation... what a fragile, bittersweet thing that is. It's a dream, a comforting fantasy that dances on the edge of our consciousness. We reach for it, desperate to believe it exists, but when we wake, it's always gone. And all that's left is emptiness—emptiness and the cold, crushing reality that nothing has truly changed. We are no closer to freedom than we were before. All we are left with is the weight of despair, the knowledge that we are trapped in a world that will never let us go.
Once, we might have thought that salvation was possible, that there was something beyond this suffering. But now, I know better. Salvation is nothing more than a sweet lie we tell ourselves to make the unbearable feel just a little bit lighter. And when I wake from this dream—this cruel, fleeting dream—I will be consumed by the same despair. I will cry, my soul heavy with the knowledge that I am forever lost, forever stuck in this endless loop of death and rebirth.
And I will die again.
Once a tragedy, always a tragedy. This cycle, this hell, will never end. It has no end. It is the nature of our existence now. To be trapped in an unbroken chain of suffering.
[2ⁿᵈ Time]
I opened my eyes, and the world around me spun in an icy, agonizing loop.
The storm raged again, just like it always did, a whirlwind of snow, rain, and biting wind. The sky was an angry blur of gray, and I could see them—Alexei and Astrid—standing there, waiting for me to make a move. Everything was as it had been before, down to the smallest detail. The cold bit through my skin, but it wasn't just the weather that made me shiver. It was the dread that wrapped around me like iron chains, a sickening weight that I couldn't escape.
This was the second time. I knew exactly what was coming.
"Shoot, kid!" Alexei shouted, his voice carrying through the howl of the wind, just like before. His eyes were wild, half-mad with something I couldn't understand, and the look on Astrid's face was just as pained. They both looked at me as if my choice, my actions, held the power to end this nightmare. But I knew better.
I felt the gun in my hand, its cold metal digging into my skin, begging me to do what Alexei wanted. But something in me snapped. I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger, couldn't bear to play along with this twisted scene one more time.
"No, I won't shoot," I said, my voice breaking, filled with a hollow defiance. I smiled—a bitter, empty thing. "This is all just a fleeting daydream. I won't play along this time."
Alexei's face contorted in confusion, a hurt that he didn't understand flickering across his face, and Astrid looked at me like I was a stranger. My heart twisted at their confusion, but I was tired. I was so, so tired.
Then, in a blinding flash, the sky erupted. My skin started to burn, my flesh melting like wax under an unbearable heat. I felt every agonizing second, every nerve screaming as the light consumed me, erasing me.
And yet, even as I felt myself falling into nothingness, I was back. The same storm, the same voices, the same demand.
I died.
[3ʳᵈ Time]
This time, I woke with my heart pounding, air scraping into my lungs like shards of glass. Alexei and Astrid were in front of me again, waiting, staring, expecting me to act. Their faces were too familiar now, burned into my memory, each line of tension and doubt a painful reminder of the nightmare I was trapped in.
"This time," I shouted, something breaking loose inside me, "this time, let's do things a bit differently!"
Without thinking, I aimed the gun at Alexei, hand steady as I pulled the trigger. But the bullet missed. I fired again—missed. My breath hitched, and my vision blurred, frustration welling up. Finally, on the third shot, the bullet struck, and Alexei's eyes widened before he crumpled, his shock etched in my mind.
Astrid stared at me, mouth open, but I didn't let him speak. I aimed, fired, and watched him fall too.
As I stood there, staring down at the gun, my chest felt tight, and laughter bubbled up, dark and hollow. I laughed until I couldn't breathe, until tears slipped down my cheeks. I sank to my knees, my body wracked with silent sobs. And then… light. Blinding, unbearable light. And it was over.
I died.
[4ᵗʰ Time]
The storm brought me back, again. I couldn't feel my own heartbeat anymore. Was I even real?
Alexei and Astrid were here again. Their faces twisted with the same expectation, the same demand. I didn't care. I wanted it to end.
So I lifted the gun, this time aiming it at my own heart, feeling a strange peace settle over me as I closed my eyes. I pulled the trigger, waiting for darkness, waiting for oblivion.
And I died.
[5ᵗʰ Time]
I felt numb as I looked around, the scene sickeningly familiar. The storm was relentless, cold and unforgiving, biting through every layer of who I was. I wondered what kind of world this was, what kind of twisted god would put me here, force me to watch them over and over, just to watch me break.
"What is life?" I whispered, barely able to hear myself over the roaring wind. "What is life if it's nothing but suffering?"
This time, I didn't hesitate. I raised the gun, pointed it at Alexei, then at Astrid, and pulled the trigger each time. The shots rang out, hollow, echoing into the emptiness around me. And as they fell, I felt nothing. No relief, no guilt—just an endless void inside me that couldn't be filled.
I died.
[10ᵗʰ Time]
When I woke again, I made a decision. Without looking at Alexei or Astrid, I turned and ran. I pushed my legs as hard as I could, my lungs burning, my body straining against the cold. I could feel the storm at my back, feel the bomb's inevitable approach. I didn't even make it a mile before I was consumed by the explosion, the blinding flash erasing me.
I died.
[20ᵗʰ Time]
The resolve to escape drove me. I ran faster than I ever had before, the sound of my own footsteps echoing like a heartbeat against the silent storm. I ran, but the blinding light was always there, searing through me, swallowing me whole.
Again, I awoke, and again I ran, only to be obliterated each time by the unstoppable explosion.
I died.
[100ᵗʰ Time]
I began to lose track of time. I couldn't remember how many times I'd felt my skin burn, felt my body freeze, felt the bitter cold turn into the unbearable heat that reduced me to ash. Each step I took was like a scream into the void, and each death only brought me back to this prison.
I died.
[1,000ᵗʰ Time]
I stopped trying to fight it. Every step felt like I was wading through thick, unforgiving mud. My muscles ached, my bones felt like they were splintering. My chest heaved, each breath a ragged scrape of despair. I had been here a thousand times, or more, or less—I didn't know. The line between life and death was blurring, fading into something unrecognizable.
I died.
[10,000ᵗʰ Time]
Every death felt like a deeper scar, carving pieces out of me that I couldn't get back. I was running out of ways to cope, out of excuses to keep trying. My thoughts were a tangled web of horror and hopelessness. I had tried everything—fighting, fleeing, surrendering. Nothing mattered. I could run as fast as I wanted, but I'd never be fast enough.
I died.
[100,000ᵗʰ Time]
Hope was a distant memory, something I couldn't even remember feeling. All I knew was this loop, this endless cycle of pain, despair, and death. I was trapped, bound by something I couldn't see or understand.
I ran because there was nothing else to do, because stopping felt like giving in to something that terrified me more than death itself. But the bomb always came. The blinding light always consumed me.
I died.
[200,000ᵗʰ Time]
I ran faster, faster than before but I died.
[300,000ᵗʰ Time]
I ran faster, faster,faster than before but I died.
[400,000ᵗʰ Time]
I ran faster, faster,faster,faster than before but I died.
[500,000ᵗʰ Time]
I ran faster, faster,faster,faster,even faster than before but I died.
[600,000ᵗʰ Time]
I ran.
I died.
[700,000ᵗʰ Time]
I ran.
I died.
[800,000ᵗʰ Time]
I ran.
I died.
[900,000ᵗʰ Time]
I ran.
I died.
[1,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
I stopped.
For the first time, I didn't run. I didn't fight. I just stood there, the storm swirling around me, feeling the cold sink into my bones. I was hollow. There was nothing left to fight with, nothing left to hold on to.
"What is this?" I asked the wind, my voice a weak whisper. "Why am I here?"
The question lingered, unanswered, as the light came again. This time, I embraced it, letting it take me, letting myself dissolve.
And still, I died.
[5,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
Desperation turned to numbness. I was a shell, a ghost caught in an endless echo. I had tried everything, and each time I failed, each time I was brought back to this place, forced to relive it again. The storm, the gun, the faces of Alexei and Astrid—like an endless nightmare that I couldn't escape from.
I didn't speak. I didn't move. I just… existed.
I felt the gun in my hand, cold and familiar, but it meant nothing. I could shoot them, shoot myself, run, stay, fight—it was all the same. Nothing would change.
I raised the gun, pointing it at my own head, and pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. A hundred times. Each time, the darkness swallowed me, and each time, I returned.
[10,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
I lost count after that. Time ceased to matter. Each loop blurred into the next, until my memories felt like broken pieces scattered across a vast, empty field. All I knew was the endless cycle, the familiar dread of waking up to the storm, to Alexei's voice, to the inevitable pain.
Hope was a distant, mocking dream. I tried to remember why I'd ever thought escape was possible, why I'd ever believed
[500,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
I didn't know who I was anymore. What were the names of the two people who kept dying with me? They remembered nothing. They kept forgetting me, and I forgot them.
I couldn't even remember why I had come here. Why did I keep doing this? Why? Just why?
Who am I anymore? The only thing I remember about myself is my name—or maybe not even that. Ho? Hoshi? Hoshino? I'm even forgetting my own name. I'm losing myself, forgetting anyone who ever meant anything to me, if I even had anyone at all.
I don't know how I'm still sane. It doesn't hurt anymore; I've become numb. I've gotten used to dying again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again… until it doesn't even matter anymore.
I look down at my hand, at the same old pistol with its neon-red glow. I raise it to my head, just like I always do, and pull the trigger.
I died.
[1,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
"So, you finally broke."
A voice echoes from somewhere.
Hoshino, eyes blank and filled with an emptiness beyond despair, looks toward the sound. The translucent figure flinches under his gaze.
"I never thought I'd be scared of myself this much," Hoshino says, his voice hollow, emptied of hope.
"W H O?" he asks, the word barely escaping his lips. For him, this is new—a voice, a face, a moment outside the endless repetition.
The figure chuckles softly. "Me?" he says, almost amused. "I am you, and you are me. Oh, the irony."
Hoshino doesn't answer, just stares.
"Damn it," the figure mutters, struggling to keep form. "I told him to just make me visible, but I guess it's too much." He winces. "Just wait… just wait… it'll be over soon. I'll come back."
With that, he fades, leaving Hoshino alone again.
"Don't give me hope," Hoshino whispers, barely a murmur.
And then I died.
[2,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
Hope is an interesting thing.
[3,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
It's something you don't want to believe in but believe in anyway.
[4,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
It's a concept you can't really grasp or, maybe, shouldn't try to.
[5,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
I don't want to believe in hope.
[6,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
Because once it's shattered, I will fall deeper into despair—again.
[7,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
But that slim chance… that things could go back to normal.
[10,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
That slim chance… that I could escape this hell.
[100,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
That slim chance… that I won't have to do this anymore.
[500,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
If that chance exists, even if it's impossible…
[1,000,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
Even if it takes me all eternity…
[10,000,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
Even if I break…
[100,000,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
I am ready to believe in it.
[621,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
Ready to believe in hope.
[999,999,999,999,999ᵗʰ Time]
"Good job… holding on. I guess?"
Finally, the voice he wanted to hear, a voice that makes him feel something, anything, cuts through the silence. Hoshino looks up. The translucent figure stares back, face twisted, eyes questioning.
"How can you still think?" the figure asks, voice thick with disbelief. "How are you still sane?"
But then, as if finding the answer for himself, his expression relaxes, almost... understanding. "Guess you really are doing it," he mutters, as if marveling at a miracle.
The figure's tone shifts, eager now. "Now, if you want to escape this hell…"
Hoshino listens, a glimmer of something lighting his deadened eyes.
"Kill him!" the figure says, pointing into the empty air.
Hoshino's gaze follows. And there, looming in the darkness, he sees it: a writhing mass of shadow. It's a creature beyond description, yet painfully clear to his eyes—a monstrous blend of black, endless eyes streaming tears of ink. Its limbs are twisted, bones exposed. Tentacles spill from its back, coiling and curling in the dark. It has a mouth that shouldn't be there, a face that's barely a face at all, organs spilling from a grotesque, distorted torso.
"Kill Keter!" the figure commands, then vanishes, leaving Hoshino alone with the creature.
Hoshino lets out a broken laugh. "Hahahaha... hahahaha!" He laughs until he's breathless, laughs until the emptiness inside him feels like it's echoing back. He covers his face, wiping at the weariness etched there, and then he looks down at the gun—the same photon gun, glowing bright as a newborn star.
"So, all I have to do… is kill this thing?" he asks the silence, his voice carrying a trace of wonder, or maybe madness.
"Yes," the voice answers from somewhere far, or maybe within him.
While all this unfolds, he catches sight of Alexei and Astrid watching him with strange, unreadable expressions. Alexei's face twists in irritation as he shouts, "What? Have you finally gone mad? This is perfect, just k—"
His words are cut short by the sound of a gunshot. Alexei crumples to the ground, dead. Hoshino turns the gun on Astrid, fires without hesitation. Another body falls.
"Annoying pests," Hoshino mutters, almost absently.
Then, a blinding flash fills his vision.
And I died.
[1,000,000,000,000,000ᵗʰ Time]
The flashes of light from the photon gun illuminate the cold, dark space as Hoshino watches Alexei and Astrid fall lifeless to the ground. He barely registers the sound of their bodies hitting the ground, the last of his old emotions slipping away. His heartbeats have become numb, mechanical. His grip tightens around the gun, his finger instinctively preparing for the next target. The shadow—the creature—Keter.
The air in the void thickens, heavy, suffocating. There's no sound, only the hum of his gun, and then, the thing in front of him: Keter.
The creature's shape is impossible to understand. Its form twists, flowing between realms, a paradox of reality itself. The thing is an embodiment of destruction. Its black eyes, those endless voids, seem to devour everything in their gaze. And yet, the twisted, horrific shape of its body speaks of something worse than death—a living void, an abyss that hungers for everything.
Keter's form shifts again, and the ground beneath Hoshino quakes.
"You're the one who keeps dying," Keter's voice slithers from the creature, a voice so dark it makes the air itself tremble. "You think you can defeat me?"
Hoshino doesn't respond. He raises the photon gun again, eyes narrowing, mind steady. I have to do this. One chance. Only one left.
Keter's shadowy limbs stretch, a cacophony of alien movements, and with a single swipe, he sends a gust of dark energy that knocks Hoshino to the ground. His vision blurs, but he doesn't care. The only thing that matters is the weapon in his hand.
He climbs back up, disregarding the pain, his heartbeat pounding in his chest as he watches Keter approach. The creature's form distorts further, threatening to tear the fabric of the world apart. *I can't let him get close. If I miss, everything's over.*
There's a faint, almost invisible line of light across the barrel of his photon gun. The last shot. *Just one. Just one chance.*
Keter laughs, a sound that's more like the shrieking of a dying star. "You think that weapon can stop me? I am the embodiment of a stellar black hole. I consume everything. You think your weapon can kill me?"
The words rattle inside Hoshino's mind. There's no escape, no victory, no way out. But his hand tightens on the gun.
"I don't think it," Hoshino mutters, the words like a prayer. "I know it."
The gun's red glow pulses brighter, but with a faint flicker. He's almost out of time.
Keter charges, his limbs twisting unnaturally, a massive, skeletal hand reaching for Hoshino. The void between them shifts as Keter speeds forward, arms stretching to crush him. The very air warps with the intensity of the creature's power. The ground beneath his feet breaks apart like brittle paper.
Hoshino knows this is it. He has one shot.
He doesn't hesitate.
In the fraction of a second before the darkness consumes him, Hoshino pulls the trigger.
A brilliant explosion of light bursts from the photon gun, a beam of pure, focused energy, its power equivalent to a stellar explosion. The beam slices through the air faster than the speed of thought, a pure force of nature in a single strike.
It strikes Keter directly.
The collision is catastrophic.
For a moment, there is nothing—only the blinding brilliance of the photon star's power. The universe seems to freeze, the sound of reality itself holding its breath. Keter's form is torn, his body ripped apart by the sheer force of the photon star's energy. The very blackness of him seems to recoil, to scream in agony, but it's brief. For a second, it seems like Hoshino has done it.
But then the darkness fights back.
Keter's form starts to reassemble, shifting, reforming as the energy dissipates. The creature's body pulses with raw, dark power, and its black eyes flare, burning with rage. The very air around Hoshino seems to distort, a growing pressure as the creature's energy warps space and time. He can feel it—this isn't over.
Hoshino stumbles back, eyes wide. *I hit him. I've only got one shot left. This has to end now.*
His fingers twitch. The last shot. There's nothing left in him but the desperation to end this.
Keter stands tall once again, not entirely whole but more dangerous than ever. The pieces of its body twitch and ripple as it regenerates. The void is alive with hunger, with rage, and Keter's voice—if it can even be called that—echoes in Hoshino's mind like a thousand screams.
"You cannot kill me," Keter hisses. "I am eternal. I am nothing less than the collapse of the universe."
Hoshino's body aches. His head swims. But one thought is clear: *I can't stop now.*
He raises the photon gun, his hands trembling. This is it—the final shot. The only shot.
Keter moves again, faster than before, the darkness surrounding him threatening to consume everything.
Hoshino's eyes locked on Keter, his finger still pressed against the trigger. The photon gun, glowing a fierce, radiant red, hummed with violent energy. He felt the weight of time itself pushing against him, the very fabric of reality bending beneath the strain. There was no fear, only a sharp clarity, as if this final shot was all that mattered. His pulse steadied. This was the moment.
One shot.
The photon blast erupted from the barrel, a wave of pure energy more potent than anything Hoshino had ever felt. It cut through the space between him and Keter like a comet slashing through the sky. The light collided with Keter's form, and the creature screeched, its shape twisting, rippling as if the very core of its existence was being torn apart. The black hole's destructive force recoiled in horror, but it was too late. The photon energy surged forward, crashing into the darkness.
I had die—But it refused to die.
The universe seemed to hold its breath, as though waiting for the collapse of the creature's form. Keter's black eyes flared with disbelief, a reflection of Hoshino's own emotions, but then—time itself despaired.
Everything shattered.
The universe began to fold back in on itself, moving backwards, reversing the flow of reality. The space around Hoshino distorted as the world began to unfold in reverse, a blur of collapsing stars and swirling shadows. The beam of light that had just struck Keter rewound, flowing backward in time, pulling itself back into the gun.
Hoshino stood frozen for a second, unable to move, his mind caught in the impossible paradox. The photon gun was in his hand, but the shot hadn't yet been fired. He looked up at Keter. The creature, too, had frozen in place, its form flickering as the very essence of time unraveled around them both.
And then Hoshino understood.
Keter was watching it—time itself moving backward.
The monster's form began to unfreeze, each part of it returning to its previous state, unwinding like a cosmic rewind. The black hole's energy pulsed backward, growing weaker as its twisted limbs straightened out. Keter's face—if it could even be called that—stared at Hoshino, and for the first time, there was something akin to recognition in its void-like eyes.
"You… You can't," Keter's voice was low, hesitant, for the first time seeming unsure of its own existence. "Time is collapsing. This cannot be."
Hoshino smirked, his eyes gleaming with the bitter taste of fate finally bending to his will. He held the photon gun with both hands, the last shot still waiting.
"Guess it's my lucky day."
Hoshino said that as looked at the panicking Keter.
✧
As this unfolded, Jin Chen, Klein, and the thousands of souls who had perished within the orphanage stood, watching from their limbo. They couldn't comprehend what was happening to Hoshino. He began laughing—a hollow, unsettling sound that seemed to echo from deep within him. Without warning, he shot his two comrades, Alexei and Astrid, their bodies crumpling to the ground with chilling finality. Then, as though nothing mattered anymore, he turned his weapon toward the empty sky, firing into the void.
The only thing that seemed to matter to him was the word "Keter"—a name that meant nothing to the dead souls who observed, but the intensity in his eyes, the burning focus, made it clear that this was what consumed him. However, as they watched, they slowly realized something—the very object they had come to destroy, the source of all this destruction, was lying on the ground : the cursed file.
What baffled them even more was the strange phenomenon that began to unfold. Time, the very essence of existence, started to rewind itself. It was as though the universe itself, in its own brokenness, was attempting to undo what had already been done. It seemed to be reversing, not for the sake of the world, but as if time itself was responding to Hoshino's despair, as if it were trying to help him, to right some cosmic wrong. The hopelessness in Hoshino's eyes was so profound that even time and space seemed to recoil from it, unable to escape its grip.
The souls—who had once been alive—stood in stunned silence, realizing the profound truth: they were trapped in this land because of Hoshino's pain. Their deaths, their very existence in this cursed place, had somehow been bound to his endless suffering. It was all connected.
Jin Chen, his voice barely above a whisper, muttered the name "Xiaoen," word that carried the weight of everything he had lost. As his words hung in the air, the world around them seemed to shift. Time itself, now clearly aware of their collective despair, responded by reversing once more. It was as if, for just a fleeting moment, the universe was offering them a chance—a chance to change something, to stop the endless cycle.
With that final mutter Jin Chen's soul finally died.
The cursed file lay on the ground, untouched but never forgotten, as time twisted around them.
✧