Ren didn't hesitate. Perhaps there had been doubt at first....but now was not the time. His life hung on every split-second decision.
The moment the door opened and blinding light swept across his vision, he bolted through it, staying close behind Copper's back like it was the last escape from the sea of undead.
The wind howled, like blades slicing past his ears.
The clattering of bones sounded like the whispering of an ancient demon, cascading down like a waterfall.
Metal clashing echoed like thunder.
The light vanished. Everything was swallowed by darkness. And Ren, breathless, slipped through the narrowing door just as the final sliver of space remained.
"Ren! Don't just stand there!" Copper's voice cracked like a whip. "Help me! They're coming!"
He was bracing the door with all his strength, feet sliding across the stone floor as a relentless pressure pushed from the other side. Hoarse screams poured in from the storm of the undead, surging like a tsunami.
Ren gritted his teeth, ignoring every scream of pain in his body. He charged like a small storm within a greater one, ducked low, and threw his entire weight into the remaining gap.
WHAMMM—!!
Metal groaned as if about to shatter, the door shuddering violently under the impact. It slammed partway into place. But it didn't lock. The magical joints were still shifting, the glowing grooves swirling like living creatures, shrieking from overload.
And then...
THEY ARRIVED.
Another wave from the corridor crashed forward. The undead were a white wall of death, skulls grinning with hundreds of lifeless smiles. Bony hands latched onto the edge of the door. Pulling. Scraping. Tearing.
"PUSH!" Copper roared.
Ren slipped, blood seeping through his fingers...but he braced himself. "Damn it...!"
He turned, shoulder to the door, body screaming as he poured every ounce of strength into it.
"MOVE!" Copper shouted, slicing cleanly through a skeletal arm wedged in the crack.
Ren didn't wait. He spun and delivered a full-force kick.
BOOOMMM—!!
The door slammed shut.
Immediately, the magical locking system activated. The glowing grooves flared brightly, then retracted, sealing the mechanism into its final position.
A muffled thud silenced the shrill howls outside, cutting off wind, screams, and the crunch of bones all at once.
Silence.
Only breathing remained, heavy, ragged, and harsh, echoing in the tight confines of a new chamber.
Ren collapsed onto the floor, his whole body torn apart, his vision flickering red at the edges.
"They... they can't get in now… right?" he rasped.
Copper didn't answer right away. He just stood there, one hand on his sword, the other clutching his chest, breathing like he might cough up blood.
"…Now's not the time to die," he said softly. "We still have things to do."
Ren's trembling fingers slowly moved through the air. The system interface opened like a thin mist.
He rummaged through his inventory, every action sluggish, like a single blink might collapse his entire body.
Finally, a familiar item appeared in his hand… an HP potion.
The faint red glow of the liquid shimmered against his pale cheek. He lifted it to his lips, fingers quivering, each gulp sinking into the aching fibers of his muscles.
It took nearly half the bottle before his health bar slowly edged back into the safe zone. Only then did the pain begin to ebb like a retreating tide, leaving behind numbness and hollowness.
Ren leaned gently against the cold stone wall behind him, drawing in a deep breath.
Only now did he begin to notice his surroundings.
A small, empty room, dim and narrow like the dungeon corridors he had already passed through.
No treasure. No loot chests. No soft lights or victory chimes. Just silence.
And darkness.
On the wall, Ren could barely make something out. Marks… or was it writing?
Whatever it was, it was smeared and chaotic, as though drawn by bare hands in a half-conscious state. He squinted, but the weak light wasn't enough to read them clearly.
Across the room, Copper was circling slowly, eyes scanning each mark, each hidden corner as if searching for something more important than life itself.
Ren glanced at him. He gritted his teeth.
'You bastard…'
He still looked immaculate. Armor untouched. Hair falling neatly across his forehead. Every step steady, every gaze sharp.
As if… he hadn't just been chased by a flood of undead.
As if… he had just stepped out of rehearsal.
The contrast between them was too stark.
Ren clenched his fist tightly.
"What has he been hiding?", A whisper within him stirred like wind through leaves.
Ren struggled to push himself upright, his hands bracing against the stone wall behind him. Every joint screamed in protest, but he gritted his teeth and endured.
His legs trembled under the weight of his own body, but at least… they hadn't collapsed yet.
He was still standing.
Even if it was only resisting against the inevitable, that alone was enough not to fall.
At that moment, Copper slowly turned around. His eyes passed over Ren, the look in them unreadable...dim, murky, impossible to tell what emotions they carried.
It wasn't concern. Nor was it gratitude. Only a faint smile, fleeting as a cold breeze, leaving no trace behind, yet chilling to the bone.
Then he turned away again, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he walked toward the walls marked with chaotic drawings.
Ren tightened his grip on the hilt at his side, then moved forward as well.
He tilted his head slightly, scanning the room once more. The previously blurry markings on the walls became clearer now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark. He stepped close enough to hear Copper's breath.
"What are you doing?" Ren asked, his voice rough with exhaustion, but still laced with suspicion and guardedness.
Copper didn't turn around. He stood as still as a statue, eyes fixed on the cracked wall, as though listening to something echoing from within the stone.
"Just… reading a story," he said, his voice low and steady, as if murmuring to himself more than answering.
"You can read it too," Copper added, lightly motioning to the strange markings. "If you look closely. If you truly want to understand."
Ren frowned.
They weren't letters in the usual sense. Not Latin, not Kanji, Katakana, nor any system-based language he had ever known.
They were spirals, interwoven patterns, loops and jagged lines, like something a mad child might scrawl. And oddly… the longer Ren stared, the more familiar they became.
A vague feeling, as if he had seen these symbols before. In a dream. Or when touching the Broken Oath...
No, not a dream. A memory.
Something deeper than ordinary memory. As if these images were touching the roots of his soul.
Ren stepped back slightly, a wave of dizziness washing over him.
"What is this?" Ren asked again, his voice no longer questioning, but demanding, as if he couldn't look away without an answer.
Copper tilted his head. The faint magical glow from the grooves in the wall reflected in his eyes, giving them a steely sheen.
He whispered softly, as if afraid to awaken something slumbering in the carvings:
"It's history… or what was once called that."
A brief pause.
"It's the origin of this world. Or maybe just meaningless legends etched in stone by a madman," he said slowly, his voice dissolving into the dark.
"Or… it's the part of the truth even Kayaba Akihiko couldn't reach."
Ren's brow furrowed. His hand clenched without realizing it. What was drawn on this wall… couldn't be called art, and certainly not writing.
It was a series of spirals, cuts, and broken lines, as though someone had deliberately tried to interrupt them.
But then, he noticed a specific image.
At the center: a massive spiral. Black. Deep. Endless. It made his stomach twist, not from hunger, but fear. A nameless terror, as if instinct screamed within him: Don't look.
Ren quickly turned his gaze to the adjacent wall. But what he saw there was even stranger.
From that void-like spiral… four thin streams of light branched out, like cracks. Each one bore a different shape. Each one… was an entity. A "Fragment."
"What is that…?" Ren muttered.
Copper stepped closer, still staring at the carving. Then he spoke, slow and solemn:
"When nothing existed… there was only the void. One absolute entity. No light. No darkness. No life. No death."
He raised a hand, pointing to the central spiral.
"But then, for reasons unknown… it began to break."
His finger moved, pointing to each of the four cracks in turn.
"Four parts split from the Nothing. Each with a nature, an origin, a… distinct will."
Ren stood frozen.
For a moment, he thought he heard something, not a voice from Copper's mouth, but something inside his head. Like a whisper from the past… or the future.
"And from those four… this world began."
A short silence… that felt like eternity.
Ren's heartbeat thundered in his ears like war drums. Each pulse pounding, lost within the oppressive air.
Why have I never heard of this?
If this is the world's history… why was it hidden?
Who carved it into the wall? Who allowed it? And why here...deep in a deadly dungeon?
Questions surged like a flood, each thought crashing and swirling, threatening to shatter his mind.
He thought of Kayaba.
That genius. That madman. The one who created this game and trapped them in this virtual hell. But if Copper was right… if even Kayaba was just a piece on the board… then who set up the board?
Ren reached out to touch the wall. The carvings were deep, cold like a tombstone. But beneath his fingers… something seemed to stir.
A sense of life. As if these images weren't just memories...but beings, staring back at him.
"Each fragment carries a will…" Ren repeated Copper's words under his breath. "Then… do any of them still exist today?"
Copper didn't answer immediately. He remained silent, as if listening to something behind the stone.
Then, finally, he said quietly:
"Maybe… one of them never left."
Ren froze.
And then, in the darkness beyond the carved walls… he suddenly felt something watching him.
No eyes.
No form.
But the presence was as heavy as stone on his chest, as suffocating as a scream caught in the throat, as haunting as a world once torn apart.
Ren spun around. Nothing there.
Only stone walls. And the sound of his own breathing.
But he knew.
Some part of him had just recognized the existence of something far greater than this entire world.