Silence.
There was nothing—only the endless expanse of void.
Yet something faintly shimmered within the abyss, catching his eye.
A shard of glass?
Some unknown force urged him to reach for it.
But Zarus could not feel his body—let alone move, or crawl toward it.
"How utterly hopeless thou art."
A voice called out from the void, prompting him to search for its source.
But could he even know if he was facing the right direction?
"Thou hast wielded thy power with reckless abandon. That is not the way of thee."
Zarus tried to yell, but no voice emerged.
"I blame thee not. Thy strength remaineth yet in its infancy."
He could do nothing but listen—powerless before the voice's steadily condescending tone.
"Cease thy struggle. Think not to lift a finger, having spent thy might from such a fragile frame."
And so, he stopped.
"See? 'Tis but a simple thing."
"Now then... pray, hesitate not to lay thy queries before me."
But how could he speak, when his lips were as still as the void itself?
"Be not a fool. Thy silent thoughts are plain to me as shouted truths."
Confused, Zarus wondered—Is this entity truly all-knowing?
He thought only one thing: Who is Zarus, really?
"Too soon, young one. Far too soon."
"Though I long to answer, the truth is shackled still within me."
"And wouldst thou place thy faith in my words? Trust that which thou canst not grasp, with naught but blind hope? Ha!"
Zarus would have groaned—if he could.
He barely understood the voice's language, but the meaning behind it? That, he felt.
"Still thy heart—thy answer cometh with the turning of time."
Even as his identity remained shrouded, a strange question stirred within him.
...
"Intriguing, is it not? There are countless ways to perceive it. Yet mark my words: meddle not with what lies beyond thy ken. As thou tread'st deeper into thine own forgotten self, its truth shall unveil itself—slowly, and not without cost."
The voice brimmed with interest, even delight, at his unspoken question.
Zarus didn't fully understand the response.
The sound that followed—a soft, knowing giggle—only deepened the unease.
"Thy knowing draweth near, though thou art yet unready."
"Now that one truth hath found thee… dost thou yearn for more, so soon?"
Zarus had one more question for the voice.
This time questioning as to who is it really? Since it hasn't told him its name nor what kind of entity it is.
Someone to aid him?
A malicious entity?
A force of this unknown world?
"Took thee this long to ponder such a thing, did it?
Truly, thou art as blank a slate as the man before thee claimed."
"My name—my nature—is of little consequence. And yet... I shan't speak of it."
He had no more questions.
Not because he understood, but because he knew the answers he sought would not be granted—not yet.
The voice seemed to understand this, too.
"We shall speak again… when thy soul is less clouded."
The shard of glass flickered one last time.
And for a moment—just a moment—he thought he saw a throne.
Then the void shattered.
[System Notice: Forced Hibernation Complete. Duration Elapsed: 24:00:00]
[Resuming System Functions Recalibration...]
The familiar mechanical voice of the system returned—and so did his consciousness.
He could barely remember anything from the void, but—
It felt strange. The last thing he recalled was reaching Rox's place… then nothing. Just darkness.
A groan slipped out as pain shot through his whole body.
Zarus had pushed himself too far. Just like in the void, he couldn't move.
Not even a finger.
His eyes opened slowly.
This wasn't the same ceiling as before.
No wooden beams. Just old stone bricks worn, damp, and cold.
The ceiling curved slightly. Wet patches clung to it, dark from time and moisture.
Thin trails of moss grew along the cracks, like green veins.
The air was cool and heavy. It smelled like dirt and wet stone. Somewhere close, water was dripping.
A fire crackled beside him. Its heat felt out of place in such a cold, forgotten space.
They were underground.
Some kind of tunnel, maybe part of the city. Not quite a sewer but close.
He looked around—slowly.
There.
Rox sat beside the fire. Shoulders low. Her head was bobbing forward, like she hadn't slept in a while.
Her old coat was still wrapped tight around her. Hands resting in her lap, breathing steady.
She had stayed.
Even after all that.
"…You're awake," Rox said softly, without opening her eyes.
"You're exhausted," he said quietly, concern slipping into his voice.
"…No sh*t, Mister," Rox muttered. "Even if I could carry you, I still had to grab supplies too."
She let out a long breath. "It was a hell of a drag, you know?"
"You should've just left me there," Zarus replied.
"I'm not hearing 'Thank you, Miss Rox, you're such a nice and great person!' from you," she snapped, clearly annoyed.
"…"
He couldn't bring himself to say it.
"You're welcome," she added, irritation rising.
"…I'm not sure how to repay you."
"I'm not expecting repayment from a frail amnesiac who probably lost his common sense."
She crossed her arms and leaned back against the brick wall.
"Not to mention—suicidal, at that."
"…"
"And it's not like I had a choice, either. If I want to survive, saving you was kinda necessary."
"…?"
"If it wasn't obvious," she said, eyes narrowing, "there are more psychos out there like Lev."
"…You mentioned last time—about him being a Dictum? What is that?" Zarus asked.
Rox closed her eyes, exhaling as if trying to ease the stress of having to explain something so basic.
"They're what you'd call criminals. Simple as that." She shrugged, but Zarus could tell there was more to it than that.
"…Speaking of those guys," she continued, "what exactly are you?"
Zarus blinked. The question caught him off guard—but he'd expected it to come up sooner or later.
The problem was… he had no real answer to give her.
"You're definitely not a Null like me," she added, suspicion clear in her voice.
"You can usually tell Edicts and Dictums apart by the tattoos on their bodies. But you—you don't have one. And yet, you used power like they do."
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was nothing he could say.
"But from the looks of it," Rox muttered, leaning back, "you've got amnesia or something, so… I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."
"I... appreciate that," Zarus replied quietly.
"But don't think you're in the clear," Rox said, eyes still sharp and suspicious. "Understand this—I'm keeping you alive because you can fight."
"Otherwise, I'd leave you in a ditch."
Zarus didn't find that very comforting. But what choice did they have? This awkward situation left little room for trust.
He noticed Rox was dozing off more as the silence stretched.
She must've been watching him closely, waiting to see if he'd make a move.
"... I can barely lift a finger," Zarus said softly. "I wouldn't do anything."
"Exactly what," Rox yawned, her eyes barely able to keep themselves open. "a criminal would say..."
Truth be told, Rox found that reassuring—especially with the weight of sleep creeping in.
She hadn't fully rested in hours, maybe longer. Watching over Zarus, tending his wounds... it had all caught up to her.
Her head dipped low. This time, she didn't fight it.
Silence returned, broken only by the steady crackle of fire and the quiet drip of water somewhere deep in the tunnel.
Eventually, the flames dimmed.
...
Zarus woke up to the sound of flames crackling again, the pain still all over his body, but the weight somehow lighter.
He glanced around and saw Rox munching on something rubbery he couldn't quite place.
"Can't make your favorite soup," she said casually. No need for a proper greeting—only a few hours had passed, after all.
She handed him a plate of the same rubbery things she was eating.
"We can't be picky either," she added.
Zarus took the bowl and bit into the strange food. It had a distinct salty taste, but other than that, it was bland.
Not that he was complaining.
Rox snorted. "It's dried tunnel eel. Had to rehydrate it with runoff water."
Zarus took a glance over at the sewer water and gulped, trying not to imagine it.
"It was prepared in advance. I'm not that kind of person, y'know?" Rox raised an eyebrow, clearly insulted he thought she'd resort to such desperate measures.
Zarus felt awkward for the assumption and didn't argue. He just gave a slow nod as a quiet apology.
They ate in silence for a while—only the crackle of the fire and the occasional drip of water filling the space.
"…Edicts are exactly what you'd think of as the good guys, but that's just a façade they put on," Rox muttered out of nowhere, catching Zarus's attention.
"They're the ones who 'own' specific lands. A whole bunch of head-scratching stuff involving papers and power," she added, chewing lazily.
Zarus tilted his head. "Why do you despise them?"
"Are you deaf? I just said they're good guys with a façade," she replied, scratching the back of her head.
"No, no—I heard you loud and clear. But I mean… why you despise them?"
Rox went quiet for a second, her chewing slowing down. She seemed unsure.
"…I don't think you'll get it," she finally said, resuming her bite of the dried, salted eel.
Zarus wanted to ask more but Rox wasn't done.
"You ever get the urge to punch someone who struts around, flashing their wealth, playing the hero in front of everyone—only to turn their eyes away when it comes to fixing the real problems?" She said mid-chew.
"You're describing hypocrites," Zarus said, looking straight at Rox.
She returned the look with a faint smirk. "For someone so amnesiac, you sure catch on fast. But yeah—hypocrites."
She leaned back, gaze drifting upward.
"But it's more complicated than that, you see." Rox's voice softened before trailing off.
She noticed a rat creeping closer to the fire and tossed it a piece of her food without hesitation.
Zarus wanted to ask more, but something about the moment made him hesitate. Like he wasn't supposed to press.
"You're probably wondering why I'm telling you all this out of nowhere," she said, pulling something out of her coat.
It was a crumpled piece of paper, worn around the edges.
Zarus blinked, curiosity rising. The air had grown heavier—not dangerous, but thoughtful. Like this conversation meant more than just venting.
"We're entering the nearest place of an Edict land." Rox unfolded the crumpled paper a bit rough but precise, her fingers pressing down the creases until it lay flat on her lap.
The firelight danced across the creased paper, revealing a hand-drawn map—faded ink, crooked lines, scattered tunnels, and red circles marking key points.
Zarus leaned in, unsure what any of it meant.
"I'm guessing at least you know what a map is?" Rox inquired, raising an eyebrow.
Zarus raised an eyebrow in response which made Rox snort.
"Good. I wouldn't have to explain it to a child." Rox added with a grin.
She pointed at a certain location on the map, near the middle.
"We'll need to take a detour first—meet someone. If I'm dragging you along, you'll need a fake pass. Saves us both a headache."
Zarus studied the map with the curiosity of a child, which made Rox realize this wouldn't be easy for them.
"...That said, I don't want you going off on your own once we get there," she said seriously.
"Listen," she added quietly, "this fake pass isn't just paper. It's what keeps us alive in Edict lands. Without it, we're just targets." Her voice was low and sharp, glaring at Zarus like she was warning him not to mess up.
Zarus leaned back against the wall, watching her move closer before finally speaking. "But won't those guys be after us?"
"Those guys... you mean the Dictums?" Rox blinked in disbelief but quickly reminded herself that he barely had a grasp on common sense. "Dictums don't have the balls to roam Edict lands." She rubbed her temple, squeezing it in frustration.
She wanted to laugh at how absurd it all was—but couldn't, not when those bastards were still out there.
"... This will be a drag." Rox mumbled to herself.