Chapter 2: A Crumbling Mirror
Right after the line, "There's a whole world to disappoint again," Ethan locked in for real.
The small room looked a little smaller now, like the walls were slowly closing in. The drops of water from the roof above felt a little louder.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Ethan's breath came shallow, struggling to steady it.
"This isn't real," Ethan's voice trembled. "It can't be real."
Ethan's hands dropped to his lap, his fingers shivering as if from cold. No, he was just trembling.
His eyes scanned the room, searching for signs it was an illusion conjured by a magic beast.
Instead, all he felt when activating his now meager mana was the absence of magic.
Apart from Scruff, himself, and the occasional worms and rats hiding in the small cabin.
Ethan focused his mana again, using its meager amount to precisely detect anything unreal. However, nothing changed.
This is called mana detection, a technique that can only be used once you've come into contact with huge amounts of mana and managed to tame a beast with great mana efficacy. Ethan had memorized how mana reacts, making his use of it more extensive than any other expert. He didn't need to be in contact with an actual beast, not even in this life, relying solely on full concentration and comprehension.
"If I had my legendary artifacts, maybe I could wake up from this mind beast." Ethan cracked a weak smile.
The damp air felt palpable when he used his mana to sense it, his heightened perception confirming it. Turning off his mana, Ethan placed his hands on a splintered part of the bed frame. He could feel it.
"Real. It's all real?"
Ethan stood abruptly, the sudden movement startling Scruff. The Wind Falcon flapped his wings, floating down to the corner of the room where his nest rested. Quietly, he observed his owner.
Ethan began pacing, his steps uneven. The warped floorboards creaked under him.
Ethan's thoughts spiraled, one tumbling into the next like a landslide he couldn't stop.
"I was dead," Ethan whispered, his voice cracking. "I died... I felt it. I know I did..."
The memories of that final battle came forward, apparent and unambiguous. Ethan could see the World Devourer's endless maw, hear the booming screech of pure destruction, feel the bone-deep exhaustion as he poured everything he had into the sealing ritual. The light had consumed him, the pain unbearable.
He remembered the stillness that followed. The quiet. The nothingness.
And now this.
Ethan clutched his head again, his fingers digging into his scalp. The questions came faster now.
"Why am I here? Why now? Is this some kind of punishment? A test? Did I fail? Did someone pull me back?!" The last question escaped as a shout, his voice raw with frustration and fear.
Scruff squawked in alarm, hopping back to the windowsill and glaring at him with wide eyes.
Ethan's stride quickened. His calf muscles contracted and released repeatedly, while his ankle tendons flexed from the rushed stride.
His thighs strained as his legs propelled him forward, his feet slapping against the uneven floor. His toes gripped for balance.
His chest muscles, especially those between his ribs, contracted erratically, struggling to breathe in. His diaphragm could not fully descend, causing shallow and rapid breaths.
The tension spread to his shoulders, causing his trapezius and pectoral muscles to tense involuntarily.
As the room spun, his neck muscles hardened, straining to steady his head.
His eyes darted around, the extraocular muscles working hard, unable to focus on one point. The shifting shadows from the lantern sent conflicting signals to his brain, amplifying the dizziness.
"What if this isn't real? What if I'm trapped in some kind of illusion? A false afterlife? What if…"
He stopped suddenly, his gaze snapping to the mirror above the sink. The reflection stared back at him, wide-eyed and pale.
His younger face had already confronted him minutes ago, the reflection he had dismissed with a wry smile and a muttered joke.
Right now, looking at the mirror, it made it harder to brush off. This hit harder, more intense for Ethan, the reality sank in.
That face was a stranger. The absence of scars. His past, wiped clean.
He stepped closer this time, hand trembling as he reached out again.
Fingers brushed against the cracked surface of the mirror. The cold glass, grounding him.
It felt too real, too solid; he pressed harder, the tips of his fingers whitening into the surface, as if his force alone could crack the illusion, tear it apart, and expose the truth.
But nothing changed.
Ethan stumbled back, his legs weakening as he sank to the floor. The wall in contact with his back, the dust under his feet moved as his knees pressed to his chest, his arms wrapping around his legs.
The weight of his uncertainty pressed down on him, suffocating. He had faced horrors that would break lesser men, stood against forces that defied comprehension.
But this? This was different.
This was the unknown, and it terrified him, for the first time in years. Powerless.
Scruff jumped up from his nest, landing in front of Ethan. He puffed up his chest, perhaps trying to comfort his owner, and chirped a tone-deaf tune briefly.
Ethan glanced at him, the sight of his ridiculous companion pulling a faint, shaky laugh from his throat.
"Heh.. haha.."
"You're really not much help, are you?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.
Scruff chirped again, hopping onto Ethan's knee. The falcon tilted his head, his beady eyes locking onto Ethan's.
The absurdity of it all hit him then.
Ethan Cross, Beastlord Supreme, reduced to a trembling mess in a moldy room, comforted by a bird that could barely fly straight.
Another laugh burst from him, louder this time, edged with hysteria.
"Ha... HAHA! Hah ahaha!"
It swelled, spilling out uncontrollably until his whole body shook, tears running down his face.
"Gods," he choked out between gasps, "this is pathetic."
Ethan's laughter fading, the lack of sound in the room coming back, he got back to his senses, regaining his composure a small bit.
Ethan wiped his face with the back of his hand, his breaths slowing. His heart still raced, the panic just under the surface, but he forced himself to focus.
"I can't stay like this," he said quietly. "I can't fall apart."
His gaze shifted to the window.
Whatever brought him here, doesn't matter now. Dude just needs to keep going, even if he has no clue where he's headed.
Ethan pushed himself to his feet, his legs unsteady.
Scruff landed on his shoulder like, 'Don't worry, bro, I got you.'
"Alright," Ethan said, his voice with clear headed conviction now. "One thing at a time. First, figure out where I am. Then… we'll go from there."
The fear didn't vanish, but it dulled, and before he knew it, his eyes grew heavy.
One moment, he was trying to gather his scattered thoughts, and the next, his head drooped to the side. He didn't even notice when his body collapsed back onto the bed.
The truth is, it was because he used mana detection. This technique drained all his energy, with the likely effect being that he would sleep for an entire day. Since he hadn't come into contact with a high mana efficacy beast, his own energy was used as a substitute for the mana.
His breathing became slower, his muscles loosening, the world around him had simply faded away.
He was vaguely aware of Scruff shifting on his shoulder, the rustle of feathers brushing his skin, but the sound felt distant. Then, the weight of exhaustion settled in.
Ethan had fallen asleep without ever realizing it.