Keon's Memories Resurface
As the last of the Bloodfang Hyenas slinked back into the forest, their snarls fading into the distance, Keon exhaled slowly. The tension in his shoulders remained, his mind still sharp and alert. Stella glanced at him, her gaze uncertain, but Keon barely noticed—his thoughts were elsewhere.
The air felt colder suddenly, the sounds of the forest distant, muffled, as if something unseen was pressing down on him. Then it came again.
"Keon..."
That voice. That haunting voice.
His breath hitched, and for a split second, his vision blurred. The dark forest flickered, replaced by a cold, torch-lit chamber. Stone walls stretched endlessly, filled with shadows that moved unnaturally. The air was thick, suffocating, like something ancient was watching him.
A deep, guttural voice rumbled through the darkness.
"How did a mere human enter my domain?"
The Demonic Skeleton Dragon. Its hollow, glowing eyes stared into him, dissecting his existence. The sickening sound of chitinous legs skittering filled the chamber as Skeleton Centipedes swarmed forward.
Keon felt his body freeze—not in fear, but in remembrance. He could still feel their claws passing through him, as if he were nothing but mist.
Then, another memory struck.
The police raid. The desperate screams. The gunfire. The smell of burnt flesh as criminals wielding Espria fell to the relentless floating guns. Keon had run—dodging, weaving, surviving. The world around him had been chaos, and yet, even then, he hadn't been the one in control.
"Keon..."
The voice echoed again, but this time, it wasn't the dragon's.
It was something else. Something familiar, yet utterly foreign.
He clutched his head, his fingers digging into his scalp as the whispers grew louder. The Rift pulsed inside him, responding to the call.
"Who... are you?" Keon's own voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
The answer never came.
Instead, the memories snapped away, the cold forest air rushing back in like a slap to the face.
"Keon?" Stella's voice broke through the haze.
He blinked, his hands lowering from his head. His breathing was steady again, but his fingers trembled—just for a moment.
"I'm fine," he said, his tone even, but there was something hollow behind his words.
Stella didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. Not yet.
Keon exhaled, shoving the memories aside. Not now. There were still too many questions. Too many missing pieces.
But one thing was clear.
The voice wasn't done with him yet.
Keon took a slow breath, trying to shake off the lingering echoes in his mind. But Stella's gaze stayed fixed on him. She had seen it—the way his expression had shifted, the way his body tensed as if caught in something only he could see.
"Keon." This time, her voice was softer, more certain.
He glanced at her, but didn't say anything.
"You're not fine." It wasn't an accusation. It was a statement. A fact.
Keon clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists. "It's nothing," he muttered. He turned away, pretending to scan the treeline, but Stella wasn't letting it go.
She stepped closer, her voice lowering. "I don't know what you saw just now," she admitted. "But I know that look. I've seen it before."
Keon exhaled sharply. "And what look is that?"
"The look of someone who's been through hell and hasn't made it back yet."
Silence.
Keon didn't move, didn't react, but something in his posture shifted—like an invisible weight had just gotten heavier.
Stella crossed her arms, watching him carefully. "You keep acting like you have everything under control, like nothing gets to you. But I've seen you fight. You don't hesitate. You don't flinch. It's like you're used to surviving things that should've killed you."
Keon let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "You make it sound dramatic."
"Because it is."
Keon finally turned back to her, meeting her eyes. For once, he wasn't wearing his usual smirk, his usual calculated indifference. Instead, he just looked… tired.
He rubbed a hand down his face before exhaling. "I've done crazy things," he admitted, his voice quieter than before. "Things I probably shouldn't have survived. And I keep doing them because I don't know what else to do."
Stella held his gaze. "You don't have to do everything alone, you know."
Keon scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't think you understand, Stella. I—" He hesitated, his mind flashing back to the dungeon, the raid, the system forcing his hand. He thought about the Rift, the voice calling his name, the things he still couldn't explain.
How could he tell her any of that?
"I've made choices," he finally said. "And I don't regret them. But I do regret… dragging people into them."
Stella's expression softened.
Keon looked away. "So, yeah. I'm sorry." The words felt strange coming out of his mouth. He never apologized. Not for things he chose to do.
But this time, it felt different.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The forest was quiet, the distant howls of the hyenas long gone.
Then, Stella sighed. "You're an idiot, Keon."
Keon blinked. "Huh?"
She rolled her eyes. "You think you're responsible for everything. You think you have to carry it all by yourself." She shook her head, stepping past him. "That's not how this works. If we're doing this, we're doing it together."
Keon stared at her, caught off guard.
She gave him a small, knowing smile. "So, next time you decide to throw yourself into some impossible fight, maybe let me in on the plan first."
Keon didn't reply right away. Then, after a beat, a faint smirk returned to his lips. "I'll think about it."
Stella rolled her eyes again, but she didn't push further. She had said what she needed to say.
Keon glanced up at the dark sky, the weight in his chest still lingering—but lighter than before. The voice was still there, the questions were still unanswered, but for now…
For now, he wasn't alone.
As the night stretched on, the tension in the air settled, but not entirely. The forest was quieter now, the distant howls of the Bloodfang Hyenas completely gone. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and leaves. Stella remained standing beside Keon, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
After a long silence, she finally spoke.
"So," she said, tilting her head slightly, "should we contact them?"
Keon turned his gaze toward her, his eyes still distant, but a flicker of focus returned. He knew exactly who she meant.
He let out a slow breath. "Yeah," he said. "We should."
Stella nodded, already reaching for her comm device. "You sure?"
Keon's jaw tightened for a fraction of a second before he nodded. "It's time."
The air around them seemed to shift. Whatever came next—they'd face it together.