(Warning: no breakfast included, but an 89% chance of soul disintegration is guaranteed.)
I didn't sleep.Not because of insomnia.Not because of stress.Not because I drank Ethiopian coffee that tasted like liquid trauma.
I didn't sleep because every time I closed my eyes, it felt like someone was installing a soul patch with cosmic malware.
Ever felt like your entire existence was being pirated?That was me.Renji Kurogane.Ex-cop. Unlicensed archaeologist.Current vessel of a blinking entity with more mood swings than a rogue AI in therapy.
Dawn arrived, as always—with the grace of a spiritual gut-punch.The guide was ready.I wasn't.I was in full: half-dead, half-caffeine, and 100% "Can we reschedule the apocalypse to Tuesday?" mode.
—"Did you sleep?"—"If by 'sleep' you mean curling up in fetal position while the Eye spoils the end of the universe, then yeah. Slept like a damn demon baby."
We climbed into the jeep.The engine roared.And the desert swallowed us.Like the Sahara itself went:"Oh great… the idiot came back."
Three hours of travel.Zero words.
Just:
The occasional hum of a cursed diamond with attitude issues.The Eye on my chest heating up like an emotional frying pan.And my brain begging not to scream: "LEAVE ME ALONE, NARRATIVE ELEMENTS!"
—"Are we on the right path?"—"Compass spins like a possessed ballerina."—"Perfect. Professional-grade chaotic tourism."
And then we saw it.NOR'MAKT.
The mother of all bad ideas.The architectural equivalent of "go out with your ex again, but make it a broken dimension."
Not a city.Not ruins.Not even a structure.
A visual ulcer.A rendering glitch.A tumor in the fabric of reality with spiritual ambitions.
Floating columns.Ownerless shadows.And a smell like a burning museum soaked in regret.Basically, if Dalí and Lovecraft had an abandoned child.
I got out of the jeep.The ground cracked like it didn't want to be stepped on.Spoiler: it was right.
—"What the hell is this?"
—"NOR'MAKT.First attempt to contain the Eye.First great failure.First 'oops, we unleashed something worse.'"
—"Wonderful. I love when history starts with: 'And then everything went to hell.'"
I stepped forward.The air was thick.Like walking through a memory… that wasn't yours… but still hates you.
And then I saw it:The door.
Made of bone.And stone.Covered in symbols that looked like they were arguing with each other—like runes with identity disorder.
—"Does it open, or do I need to scream 'abracadabra, screw this'?"
—"It doesn't open.It remembers."
—"What?"
—"It's a memory door.It recognizes the bearer."
—"And if it doesn't?"
—"It erases you from existence.Turns you into a weeping shadow."
—"Ah. Great. Comforting."
The door opened.On its own.No touch.No voice.
As if the universe whispered:"Yeah, I know who you are. Go ahead. Doesn't matter anymore."
Inside:Darkness.And womb-temperature hell.
I stepped in.Because, of course.I'm Renji.Specialist in walking into places that clearly want me dead.
And then I saw it.The chamber.
Perfect circle.Pitch black.Filled with statues.
All of them—me.
Hundreds of me.
One crying.Three bleeding.One… doing things.(We won't talk about that one.)One laughing.
And that laugh…wasn't human.It was the laugh of someone who's seen the end.And knows it hurts.
And hanging from the center:a heart.
Not poetic.Not metaphorical.Literal.Black crystal.Beating.Same rhythm as mine.
—"Tell me that thing's not mine."
—"It is," whispered the guide behind me.—"It's your fragment. Your link. Your emotional battery."
—"What happens if I stop looking at it?"—"It shatters."—"And if it shatters?"—"So do you."
And then…a voice.
My voice.But older.Cracked.Like a 90s VHS tape haunted by existential static.
"Welcome to NOR'MAKT, Renji.Here begins your memory.The one you haven't lived yet."
All the statues turned toward me.All of them.At once.
And one—the most broken—winked.
—
—"I want to go home," I whispered.
—"You don't have one," replied the voice.
And I knew.NOR'MAKT wasn't a place.It was a trap.Of time.Of identity.Of everything I thought I was.
And the worst part…
This wasn't the end.