Endless silence reverberates through the atmosphere, as he traverses the desolate expanse of the wasteland without any discernible direction. What was once mere seconds of walking have transformed into minutes, which in turn have become hours of relentless kilometers.
His throat has begun to dry up, a consequence of his decision to forgo water in favor of coffee. Regret now gnaws at him as his throat becomes so parched that even the act of gulping becomes a struggle.
"Hufff" (he whips the sweat off his face)
It feels as though he is walking on a desert. Yes! A desert!
When he wipes the sweat from his face and opens his eyes, he finds himself in the very heart of the desert.
Huh, this is impossible. I was just in that white space a moment ago. Wait!
Am I beginning to perceive illusions due to my thirst?
Yes, that explains it...!
Perhaps I am dreaming or trapped in an illusion from the very beginning. Maybe I should find a way to escape this place. What if I end my own life? No, that would be too painful.
Perhaps something that could jolt me awake with pain would suffice.
As a person who remains remarkably calm and quick-thinking in such dire situations, he might have imagined himself in even worse circumstances. He was quick to think and act, realizing that it could all be an illusion and attempting to rouse himself from it.
He begins searching for something, his hands frantically combing through his trench coat.
While searching, he finds a pen tucked away inside.
"Mmm, this is strange. I don't recall ever using this pen or placing it here. It's the same one Taliah uses! Maybe she put it here!"
He sets aside his questions and prepares himself, taking deep breaths and exhaling.
In a desperate attempt to escape, he stabs himself in the thigh.
A piercing scream escapes his lips, but he musters the strength to endure because he is not out of this yet. His wound begins to hurt and burn, threatening to overwhelm him. His consciousness fades once again, fear gripping him tightly. He believes he is about to die. He thinks, "Since I feel this excruciating pain, it's not a dream. I will die here, nowhere, and...and I haven't found Taliah yet. I need to find her here. I want to go back home..."
...Miel... where are you, Miel?
His life flashes before him, recalling a distant memory of a girl, now middle-aged and lost in nowhere, with no hope. He feels trapped alone, burdened by the worry of Taliah, also out there alone. His heart and mind are in chaos, and his will is not ready to give up. The burning sensation of regret, guilt, and responsibility consumes him. He stands up firmly, opens his eyes, and stretches his hands above him, trying to grasp the light. "I will," he whispers, but then he falls down and loses consciousness.
He opens his eyes again, finding himself in the same wasteland of white void, but this time, he is covered in a pool of blood, presumably his own. Shocked, he checks his entire body and head, searching for the source of the blood. When he checks his body, he realizes that his thighs have healed. Next, he searches for the pen. He spots a somewhat bulging object in the blood pool and picks it up. It's the pen, cowering in the blood. He looks at it and reminisces, then puts it back in his trench coat, now covered in bright red blood.
He wonders what happened before, the burning sensation and thirst have all vanished.
...
He gets up and looks up, taking a deep sigh.
...
Sounds of horns and vehicles fill the air. Tall skyscrapers soar above him.
Inside a dimly lit room, a small table lamp casts a warm glow on Akhira, who is sitting and designing a ship that can withstand high speed and pressure during their space travel. Akhira, a person who dedicated his entire life to thinking and fantasizing about different concepts, is at the end of his rope. He has designed many ships, but none that he could build with his limited funding, research, and manpower. As for the space part, it seems he has already planned something out.
...
Those dreams! Those felt so unreal.
He lies on the table, both hands on the table, closed, and his chin resting on it. He looks ahead at his space shuttle design.
Akhira, a man with a peculiar dream, yearned for a distant world, a realm of swordlight, darkness, and magical wonders. He envisioned himself as a knowledgeable figure, standing above others in this enchanted land. However, his dream remained elusive, leaving him with only a faint imprint on a piece of paper and some enigmatic words in Ancient Arabic. He was certain that this imprint held the key to unlocking the mystery and a portal that could transport him through time.
...
"I don't care about whatever that is," he exclaimed, his focus shifting to the present.
"Taliah!" he called out, his voice filled with urgency.
"Yes, sir Nur!" she replied, her tone filled with concern.
"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said, her voice filled with remorse. "I'll bring you something to drink right away."
"That's good," he said, his expression softening.
...
Akhira found himself standing alone in the vast expanse of the white void. He couldn't help but wonder if he had always been like this.
"Taliah!" he mumbled, as if reminiscing about something. But the only response he received was an endless silence.
...