Chapter 8
<47 days of hell>(11)
✧A dystopia worse than hell(2)✧
"Hah."
With a sigh, I glanced at the chaotic sky, where strong winds whipped up snow in all directions. My hair fluttered, my bangs brushing my eyes, until the movement stopped, and space distorted into an endless blue sky above a transparent, water-like floor reflecting its color.
Through countless loops and regressions, I'd noticed that this world was reaching its end. The universe had nearly faded away, leaving only Earth and a sun burning through its energy a million times faster than usual, a sign of the multiverse's impending collapse.
I looked at the abomination—an unspeakable horror whose name I dared not even think.
"Enough with the monologues. You're running out of time, remember?" echoed a voice in my head. I saw its source through my left eye: a translucent version of myself, ageless but somehow both younger and older.
"I know," I replied casually.
"Alright," he continued, "there are about five laws of time paradoxes. The first states that when entities from the same worldline but different timelines meet, it results in one of two outcomes."
"First, both vanish," I offered.
"Correct. The second outcome is that the stronger being remains while the weaker one fades."
I nodded as he continued, "The second law applies when an entity from a parallel universe encounters one from a different timeline. It usually leads to a merging of souls. Somehow, I've merged with you—we're two souls in one body, yet it's stable because we share the same code."
"I see… Wait, did you say I'm older?" I asked, confused.
"Really? Don't tell me you lost your memories." His tone was almost mocking.
"Memories? I only remember my parents' deaths, then coming to this orphanage, and then… this hell."
He paused, sighed, then muttered, "I don't have time to explain. Figure it out yourself. Hard to believe you're my future…"
I was still lost in thought when he continued, "Are you ready?"
"…Your name?"
"Hoshino Natsumi," he said—Hoshino… Natsumi… Well, I guess we'll go with his last name.
"Got it, Hoshino."
The space began distorting again, time moving in every direction until reality shattered, leaving only an infinite white void where we faced each other.
"Hope," I began.
"—is a lie," he finished, and together we recited, "Fate is unavoidable. Reality is an illusion. In the end, it's just a fleeting daydream."
With those final words, we clasped hands, merging completely, though I could still sense both souls within me.
Reality twisted. Time fractured into crystalline shards, and space collapsed into a cosmic emptiness as everything faded to black. Then, with a jolt, I was back on the orphanage rooftop.
The wind picked up, and my hair fluttered again as I faced the abomination, a smile forming on my face. The creature seemed taken aback—how rude. I glanced at the neon red photon gun in my hand, its weight both familiar and different. This time too, I had one last shot.
And that shot was special.
One last shot.
✧
I took a deep breath and shouted into the raging storm, "Heave before me—"
As I spoke, I raised a hand to my face, wiping away dust and sweat. Then, I closed my eyes and opened them again, but this time I could see myself in third-person, like an observer witnessing the culmination of my journey. My left eye had transformed, a strange flame of blue and yellow blazing in it like an ancient beacon. It pulsed with something primordial, an aura of raw energy that felt older than the universe itself. And along with it came a pain that exploded down my spine, tearing through every nerve and igniting my system. But pain, at this point, was no stranger. It was just another constant in this broken world, something I had long ago accepted.
Slowly, I opened my right eye, now a sapphire blue radiating a chilling sense of despair—a reflection of every moment of hopelessness I'd faced. I felt the pulse of the weapon in my hand, the cold, metallic weight grounding me. This gun, my last companion, was vibrating with a kind of desperation that matched my own, as though it too knew this was the end. In the distance, I saw the massive shape of the Tsar Bomba approaching, a device meant to annihilate, carrying with it the promise of oblivion.
"For I am—" I inhaled, steadying myself, feeling my power surge, an energy as relentless as the storm around me.
"The only King of—"
And with those words, reality twisted. Time itself seemed to hold its breath. The wind stopped mid-scream, rain froze in the air, and snowflakes hung in the sky like delicate, ghostly sculptures. Everything stilled, every particle suspended, acknowledging the finality of this moment.
"This dystopia."
With that declaration, the world unfolded. I didn't just see molecules—I felt them, connected to each in a latticework of being and decay, as though I were staring at the blueprint of creation. Every molecule, every atom, every essence bared itself, peeling back in layers to reveal a cosmic symphony. For one breathless instant, I understood everything, felt the universe's heartbeat, its quiet, painful rhythm echoing through me.
Taking a step forward, I felt the air bend around me, the rain and snow shifting to form crystalline patterns, as if paying homage to this final stand. My foot touched the ground, and I felt the world breaking apart beneath it, atoms splitting in surrender. The awareness that this would be my last moment burned into me—a bittersweet truth that carried its own weight, a gravity pulling me forward.
As Natsumi's words echoed in my mind, I felt the truth behind them: "Don't put your faith in hope—it only drags you into deeper despair. Put every last bit of that despair into your final shot."
I closed my eyes, a wave of calm washing over me, knowing that this shot would be my last heartbeat, my final testament.
And then a sharp pain pierced my back. For a moment, everything went black, and my vision swam. I staggered, gritting my teeth as I turned. There, standing defiantly, was Alexei. His gun was aimed at me, a mocking smirk on his face, as if the universe had twisted its own rules to keep him here. Despite everything, he had survived. Confusion overtook my fury—why was he still alive? But it didn't matter; everything had been set in motion.
"Vanish," I whispered, my voice hollow. Alexei's form dissolved, breaking into fragments, his dust scattering in the storm's embrace. I had anticipated his betrayal, prepared for this. His death was merely a feint, a faint echo of the true strike that would follow.
"Hopes scattered to dust," I intoned, my voice resonating through the empty space, a ripple spreading outward.
"Dreams shattered into shards," I murmured, each word like a beat in the dark rhythm of reality.
"Nothing in this world makes sense," I added, my voice swallowed by the silence, as if the universe were acknowledging the futility of it all.
Each phrase was a word of truths I'd come to accept, twisting the world around me like a puppet on strings. Life, death, truth, deception—they had all become meaningless in this endless loop. Good and evil, reality and illusion—they all spun around me, caught in a dance that led nowhere, a cycle repeating eternally. In this loop, I had become something different, something both judge and victim, forced to stand alone.
The creature, Keter, prepared its attack, its grotesque form shifting, adapting to my presence. But I was ready. With calm resolve, I raised my gun, aiming directly at the monstrosity.
And then, like an echo from a forgotten memory, a word rose to my lips, ancient and powerful, a word I didn't fully understand but knew instinctively.
"Zukræfeil," I whispered as I pulled the trigger.
The gun recoiled, a massive shockwave shattering the air around me. This was no ordinary bullet. It was pure energy, ripping through the fabric of reality itself. Entire layers of existence crumbled behind it, dissolving into nothingness. The bullet hurtled forward, tearing through Keter, reducing it to scattered dust. But it didn't stop. It hurtled faster, cutting through space, piercing through the Tsar Bomba, which erupted into a colossal shockwave that cracked the very sky.
The bullet surged onward, breaking through light and time, breaching the Earth's magnetic field and tearing a hole through the core of the sun. In seconds, a supernova exploded, a wave of fiery destruction swallowing everything. Stars, planets, entire galaxies disintegrated, leaving nothing but silence.
In the midst of the void, I was left alone, adrift in the frozen dark of space. I could feel my body surrendering to the emptiness, my breaths shallow, my limbs cold. My lungs burned, my vision blurred, fading into shadows. My heart slowed, each beat echoing like a distant memory, a tether to a world that no longer existed.
Then, through the haze, a glowing screen appeared, its text wavering in and out of clarity.
[Quest: Kill Keter]
[Completed!]
Exhausted, I lifted a trembling hand, flicking at the screen. Another window opened, blue and red, blurring as my vision faltered.
[One reset available]
Would you like to reset?
▷ Yes ▷ No
The words felt empty, but my hand moved almost of its own will, selecting Yes.
[Would you like to reset?]
▶ Yes
[Proceeding…]
[Assimilating…]
['Hoshino' may lose most of his memories.]
[Error!]
[Skill 『 ■ 』 Activating.]
[Resetting... 0.1%]
My mind began to unravel, fragments of myself slipping away. Memories blurred, images of faces, laughter, sorrow—each one drifting, fading like leaves scattered in the wind.
[0.1%]
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Why?...
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[15%]
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My consciousness grew blurrier.
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[30%]
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No one will save me.
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[40%]
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I will die—No i will be back in the same loop.
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[50%]
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If the regressions start again, I don't know if i can stay sane—or maintain my mentality anymore.
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[60%]
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Then i will die again and—
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[67%]
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—Again,
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[69%]
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And Again until i won't be myself anymore.
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[73%]
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I am sacred.
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[78%]
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I'm scared, scared of this pain, of being left alone, of loneliness.
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[83%]
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I don't want to do this.
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[89%]
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I want to end it.I don't want to be left alone.
I don't want to kill, i don't want to see anyone in pain.
I don't want it!
I wana cry too but crying wont help.
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[91%]
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Every night, i cry myself to sleep, hopping it will better tomorrow.
I wana laugh too but i will just cry.
I wana just be happy too but the only thing i will get is sorrow.
Every time, it's like that, no matter what i do. No matter what i say. They will not believe me.They are always like that. Its always like that.
Everything is a lie.
This world wasn't ment for me.
And i wasn't ment for this world.
.l
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[95%]
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Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!
No will trust me.
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[96%]
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And i will trust no one.
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[97%]
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No one will believe me and i Will believe no one will.
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[98%]
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I just wana rest.
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[99%]
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I am too tired
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I am too exhausted to complain, to cry, to fight, to speak.
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[100%]
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I just wana rest...
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[Reset complete!]
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[Initializing....]
[Completed!]
[World line 72,593.]
[Successfully reset.]
And as everything faded, I drifted into an endless quiet, alone, yet at peace.
✧
Hosh!no watched the universe crumbling into ruin around him, the fabric of existence breaking apart in slow, painful waves. Shattered fragments of what was once reality drifted in the void, scattering across an expanse that seemed to echo with silent screams. He sighed and forced himself to stand, but he could feel it—the weight of the infinite deaths he had experienced, the toll of countless resets that had etched scars deeper than flesh. Half of his body was already distorting, fragments glitching as if his very essence was unraveling.
Hosh!no glanced down at himself. One side of him was glitching so severely it was almost unrecognizable, his limbs flickering in and out of form, and his eyes carried the same distortion—a reminder of his inevitable descent. His mind wandered back to the first time he had died. He could still remember it clearly, that surreal sensation of crossing from life into the void, only to be pulled back and given the choice to shape his fate. But instead of a new beginning, he had been cast into a ruined world, a place so broken that survival felt like mockery.
Through grit and sheer determination, Hosh!no had endured. He had deceived entities who thought they controlled him, escaped from traps designed to keep him bound. But each victory came with a price, each triumph tearing a piece of him away. He had died again and again, each death fracturing his soul, until one day, he had found himself divided into two. Now, with only half a soul, he shared his existence with the system that had once ruled him, forced to exist in a state of perpetual division.
Floating now in the 「Anti Void」, he took in his surroundings with weary eyes. The 「Anti Void」 was an endless expanse of nothingness, a place beyond survival, beyond hope. Even those who had been lucky enough to escape here had eventually succumbed, their bodies and minds breaking down to dust or bending under the weight of the void's silence until they became puppets of some cosmic, empty force. The rare ones, those who resisted, transformed into something worse—Destroyers, consumed by distortion until they lost their humanity, their emotions fading like echoes in an abandoned corridor.
Hosh!no knew he was changing too. The transformation was already well underway. He had been designed to be a destroyer, to erase entire realities. But instead, he had rebelled, choosing to protect a single, fragile universe. That choice had been his undoing. Instead of claiming the title of Protector, he was branded by the glitches and distortions of his own defiance. He could feel the fractures spreading within him, tearing apart the seams of his soul with every passing moment. He had tried to escape this fate, but each attempt only accelerated his unraveling, each resistance marking him for something darker.
In his current state, he felt an eerie calm, drifting in this void without purpose. His body was slowly being consumed by the glitches, his very form breaking down. He knew now that he was running out of time. This existence, this fractured self, was unsustainable. If he chose to reset, Hosh!no would not be there in the next world line; he would be gone, erased from reality like the countless fragments of lost universes that populated the void.
The vast emptiness around him felt like it was mirroring his own unraveling, a cosmos that had grown tired and hollow. Stars had already collapsed, galaxies reduced to spectral dust, and the void stretched endlessly, holding nothing but a faint echo of existence. Hosh!no tried to move forward, but his body would not respond. Instead, he simply floated, caught between moments, a fading remnant in a universe that had nothing left to give.
He watched, helpless, as glitches rippled through his hands, dissolving his skin into flickering static. His left arm twisted in on itself, pixels breaking apart and scattering like ash. He raised it to his face, staring at his own distortion, a ghost of the self he had once known. Each pixel felt like a memory he could no longer hold, fragments of battles fought, losses endured, moments of quiet and suffering slipping through his fingers.
He remembered the faces of those he had once cared for, friends and allies who had stood beside him, each memory a faint spark against the emptiness. In this final void, even memories felt fragile, their warmth slipping away as though the universe itself could not hold them. His mind struggled to cling to them, to preserve those final remnants, but it was futile. With each passing second, he was losing them to the glitches, his own consciousness blurring as if it, too, was being erased.
The more he tried to hold onto those memories, the faster they seemed to slip away, like water through a sieve. Despair settled over him, cold and unrelenting. He was alone, completely and utterly alone. Even in his most painful moments before, there had always been a glimmer of something—hope, anger, or determination. But here, in this endless, empty cosmos, there was only silence. No heartbeat, no breath, just the infinite void stretching around him.
His vision started to dim, growing hazy at the edges. He reached out into the darkness, his hand flickering, breaking apart as he tried to grasp something, anything, to ground himself. But there was nothing left. His entire body was succumbing to the glitch, his form disintegrating piece by piece, and as he looked into the void, he saw nothing reflecting back at him. Just the cold, indifferent silence.
In those final moments, Hosh!no accepted his fate. There would be no more resets, no more rebirths. This was the end of his journey, the culmination of everything he had endured. As his form continued to unravel, he took in the emptiness one last time, a universe that held no warmth, no promise, only an endless cycle of decay.
The last of his memories faded away, one by one, leaving only the faintest echo of a life spent fighting against the inevitable. He wanted to cry, to scream, to rage against the silence, but even those emotions slipped away, dulled by the void's oppressive weight. Instead, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift, his mind surrendering to the darkness, his thoughts fading like the last remnants of stardust.
As the glitches consumed the final pieces of him, he whispered one last thought into the emptiness, though he knew it would go unheard. It was the faintest plea, a single, fragile hope that maybe, somewhere, in some distant fragment of existence, something of him might remain—a trace of his defiance, a shadow of his will. But he knew it was only a wish, a flicker of light that would soon be extinguished.
And with that, Hosh!no was gone, leaving nothing behind but the silent, endless void, a universe without memory or witness, a place where even the stars had forgotten how to shine.
In the empty sky, I cast my gaze,
and whisper words to fading haze.
A memoir carved in silent stone,
of a life that dies, forever alone.
The stars retreat; the cosmos sighs,
while I drift toward darkened skies.
With breath that falters, slow and sparse,
I'm glitched and fractured, torn apart.
Each fiber twists, each vein unfolds,
pain etching stories left untold.
A final breath, no peace, no light—
just an empty daydream, lost to night.
—Hosh!no's last words as he faded to dust.
✧
When I opened my eyes, I was lying in bed, my heart pounding and my body tangled in sheets that felt strangely familiar. I sat up slowly, glancing around, feeling disoriented as memories of the void, of the reset, flickered like faint stars in my mind. Everything around me looked...real. The walls, painted a faded blue, bore faint scratches from years past. My old posters were still pinned up, and a half-finished model kit sat on the desk. It hit me like a sudden blow—this was my old room.
I stood up on shaky legs, my hands brushing against the furniture, the familiar feel of it grounding me, but also stirring an ache deep within me. I could still remember the distortion, the glitches consuming me, the silence of the void. And now, here I was, back in a place I thought I'd never see again.
Stepping out of my room, I moved down the hallway, hardly breathing as I followed the sound of voices from the kitchen. There they were—my mom and dad, standing together, laughing softly as they prepared breakfast. My chest tightened. My parents. They were alive, here, right in front of me. And for a brief moment, I felt something warm and heavy settle inside, a fleeting illusion of peace.
But I knew what was coming. I could remember it as clearly as I could see them in front of me. Tomorrow, they would die. It was supposed to be a short trip, something for my little sister—a day out, nothing more. But fate had different plans. The accident would take them, just as it had before, and I would be left alone again, drifting in a world that no longer felt like home.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "Mom...Dad," I said, my voice a little too sharp, almost desperate.
They both turned to look at me, their faces softening with smiles. "Good morning, sweetheart," my mom said, her eyes warm, her hand reaching to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her face.
I took another step closer, feeling the words swell inside me, heavy and insistent. "About the trip tomorrow," I began, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Maybe...maybe you shouldn't go. Maybe we could all just stay home."
My dad gave me a puzzled look, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "What's this all of a sudden? It's just a little day trip, nothing to worry about."
"It's for your sister, remember?" my mom added gently, as if my worry were nothing more than a passing shadow. "We'll be back by the evening, and besides, we've been planning it for weeks."
I could feel my heart racing, the desperation building as I reached for any words that might convince them. "I just...I don't think it's a good idea. Please, just this once, stay home. For me."
My mom's face softened, and she came over to place a hand on my shoulder. "Honey, we'll be fine. It's a short trip, and it'll make your sister so happy. I know you're just being protective, but you don't have to worry." Her voice was calm, unwavering, as if my words couldn't reach her, couldn't penetrate the certainty in her mind.
I tried again, feeling my voice crack. "Please...you have to listen to me." But she only smiled, patting my shoulder gently, brushing off my fear as if it were nothing more than childish anxiety.
"Take care of things here for us, okay?" my dad said, his tone light, oblivious. They were so sure, so unaware of the fate that awaited them, of the hollow, broken future that lay in the wake of their departure.
I wanted to scream, to shake them until they listened, until they saw the fear in my eyes and understood. But I knew it wouldn't change anything. I had tried before, in countless lives, countless resets, each time watching as they left with gentle smiles, each time knowing I couldn't stop what was coming. This was how it had to be; the system always brought me back to this moment, where I was helpless.
Eventually, I gave up, my shoulders slumping in defeat. I watched them finish breakfast, heard them laugh and talk about the plans for tomorrow as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. And as I watched, a familiar numbness crept in, filling the spaces where my pain once was, muting everything until all I could feel was a hollow ache.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as shadows danced across the walls, my mind racing. I could feel the inevitability of it all, like a weight pressing down on my chest, stealing my breath. The memories of the accident, of the news, of the quiet after, haunted me, replaying in my mind over and over until I thought I would break.
Eventually, I couldn't hold it in any longer. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed, letting the pain flood out, each tear a reminder of the countless times I had gone through this, each one carrying the weight of a thousand lives. It was a grief that had no end, a wound that would never heal, no matter how many resets I endured.
When the morning came, I knew what to expect. I was numb, hollow, my eyes dry and aching as I waited for the news. It came, as it always did, the sharp ring of the phone, the quiet, trembling voice on the other end. I barely heard the words—an accident, no survivors—as the numbness settled in, heavy and suffocating, like a blanket of ash.
The days that followed blurred together in a haze. I tried reaching out to relatives, hoping for some flicker of comfort, but each door I knocked on was closed. Some of them couldn't bear to look at me, their expressions hardening with guilt or pity. Others outright rejected me, too busy or unwilling to take on the burden of a grieving child. It was the same as before—rejection, isolation, the slow erosion of hope as I drifted from one cold doorstep to another.
With each rejection, a piece of me hardened, the grief twisting into something colder, darker. It was as if the universe was determined to teach me a lesson in loneliness, forcing me to endure this pain again and again, with no one to share the weight of it.
Days turned to weeks, each one bleeding into the next, until the numbness was all that remained. I didn't have the strength to fight it anymore, to reach out or try to connect. I stopped trying to talk to people, stopped hoping for anything better. Instead, I let myself drift, waiting for the inevitable—waiting for the day they would take me to the orphanage, just as they had before.
I sat alone in my room, the once-familiar space now filled with shadows that seemed to stretch and pulse with each heartbeat. Everything around me felt like a ghost of what it had once been, a reminder of a life I could no longer touch, no longer belong to.
The date on the calendar was the final blow, the same date as before, marking the end of one life and the beginning of another that I didn't want, a life that felt like a cruel echo of all the lives I'd lost. I looked at it, my eyes dry and hollow, feeling nothing but a dull ache where my heart used to be.
That night, as I lay in bed, I stared up at the ceiling, my mind a wasteland of broken memories and empty dreams. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I simply waited, feeling the weight of the universe pressing down on me, the inevitability of my fate settling in with a final, cold clarity.
And in the silence, I realized that I had become a shadow of myself, a ghost trapped in a cycle I couldn't escape. All I could do was wait, to let the world move around me as I remained still, a fragment of a forgotten life.
When they finally came to take me to the orphanage, I didn't resist. I didn't cry or plead. I simply followed, my steps heavy and slow, the weight of all those lost lives pressing down on me, each one a silent testament to the endless, aching loneliness that had become my existence.
✧