The palm trees swayed lazily in the midday breeze, but it didn't feel lazy to Hydro. He squinted at the group gathered beneath the shade, hearts pounding from the chaos that had just unfolded. Miraculously, no one was seriously hurt—or so it seemed. Relief should've filled him, but seeing their faces… it hit him harder than any monster ever could.
"H—hey! You guys okay?" Hydro called, forcing a casual tone, but his voice cracked slightly.
Their eyes didn't smile. They didn't relax. Atlarus's brows were furrowed in concern, Terry's jaw tightened, Nate looked tense, and Bea… Bea's calm face carried a weight Hydro couldn't read at first. Then, as if a dam had been holding back every emotion from the last year, her voice cut through the air.
"Hydro… why are the Yakuzas after the Ohara Community?" Her tone was quiet, almost clinical—but it carried an edge that made him swallow hard.
"W—what? I… I don't know what you're talking about," Hydro stammered, hands clenching involuntarily at his sides.
Bea rose, stepping closer, and the subtle sway of her body carried both exasperation and authority. "Just answer the damn question, Hydro. Why are they after us? Why are they after Mina? Do you have… connections to these people?"
Hydro froze. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. One year ago, his decisions—taking Ghost, interfering with the Konohagure Clan—had triggered events nobody outside his awareness could understand. The full truth would terrify them, so he tried to craft a story, something plausible and "safe."
"I—I didn't… it's not like that. I was just… sending evidence… evidence of their crimes to the police station," he said, forcing a trembling calm into his voice.
Nate cut him off immediately, disbelief in his tone. "Police? Hydro, the police can't handle monsters, giant gates, and—what the hell, Hydro? Why are there monsters chasing us? Answer us."
Hydro's stomach churned. "G—Guys… I didn't mean to get anyone involved. I wasn't… I never wanted anyone to get hurt."
Terry stepped forward, hands on her hips. "AND WE ALMOST DID, HYDRO! Do you understand that? Almost. Injured. Dead. So what's happening, huh? Did you trigger something and accidentally involve us, huh?"
Hydro's mind scrambled, trying to piece together plausible explanations. "No! I wasn't… I mean, I was just taking pictures, recording evidence—trying to make sure that if the clan did anything illegal, I could prove it. I didn't… I didn't fight them. I didn't—"
"You didn't fight them?!" Bea's voice rose, sharp and biting, her maldita energy fully exposed now. "Hydro, you think we don't know what just happened? People were nearly killed! Monsters, Yakuza, something cosmic—whatever the hell you were doing—it nearly got all of us wiped out!"
Hydro's throat tightened. "I… I only wanted to protect you—protect everyone!"
Bea scoffed, a laugh laced with venom. "Protect us? Protect us?! You think sending a damn photo or a report is protection? We were running for our lives, Hydro! Mina—little Mina—she didn't even understand half of what was going on, and you dragged her into this! How is that protection?"
Hydro looked down, guilt gnawing at his chest. He tried to explain, to clarify, but the words stuck like stones in his throat. Every lie he tried to tell, every story he crafted to shield them from the truth, only widened the gap.
"Atlarus… I didn't want anyone hurt," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I wasn't reckless. I just… I thought if I got the evidence—"
"Evidence!" Nate shouted, cutting him off. "You call nearly getting everyone killed 'evidence'? We could've been dead, Hydro! Do you realize how insane that sounds?"
"Exactly!" Terry added, voice trembling with suppressed anger. "Do you even understand what we went through? Every step we took, we were afraid. We didn't know what would happen. And it's because of… because of you, Hydro. One stupid decision. One. And it almost killed everyone."
Hydro's chest tightened. "I didn't know… I couldn't—"
Bea's voice cracked, but the maldita fire in her tone didn't waver. "You think that's enough? That's all you got to say? I'm tired, Hydro. Tired of running around thinking everything's fine because you can handle it. You're not invincible. You're not a superhero. You're just… you. And look at what happened!"
Hydro's shoulders slumped. He wanted to speak, to defend himself, to explain that his intentions were pure—but he couldn't. Every argument he tried felt hollow against the raw emotion of their fear, their anger, their disappointment.
Bea stepped closer, her hand brushing the hem of Mina's sleeve protectively, eyes sharp and accusing. "You put us in danger. You put her in danger. And for what? For your 'plans'? For your... Ghost? For… whatever justification you have in that head of yours, it doesn't matter. You don't get to drag people into your mess without consequences!!"
Hydro's lips quivered. He wanted to shout, to make them understand, but Bea's words were bullets, and he had no shield. "Well—"
"Hydro, why won't you even listen just this once?!" Bea's voice broke slightly, anger and fear mingling, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Do you even hear what I'm saying? Do you hear how close we were to… to—"
"Bea, please—" Hydro tried to interject, voice barely audible.
"I SAID LISTEN!" Bea snapped, stepping back, eyes flashing. "No, Hydro. You've done enough. We don't want to see you again. We can't… we can't trust you to keep us safe if you think this is all fine. We can't. Not after this. Not after everything you put us through."
Hydro's knees felt weak. His throat burned. He opened his mouth, desperate for even one word, but she wasn't finished.
"I mean it. Get out. I don't want to see you again. Ever. Go. Leave."
"But—" Hydro tried, voice breaking. "I just…"
"I SAID GET OUT!" Bea's final shout echoed in his ears. The words felt like hammers, striking against his chest. He had no choice. No matter what he wanted to say, no matter how much he wished he could explain everything, the look in Bea's eyes and the weight of her words left him powerless.
He turned slowly, footsteps heavy, each step carrying the weight of failure, guilt, and heartbreak.
Behind him, the others whispered amongst themselves, voices low and conflicted.
"She… she didn't mean it, right?" Terry asked, voice small.
"She's scared," Atlarus said quietly, fists clenched at his sides. "Angry, too. But… she's scared. For all of us."
Nate shook his head. "I don't think any of us will look at him the same. Not after today. Not after what nearly happened."
Kristine crouched beside Mina, keeping her close. "Mina's okay… that's what matters. But… Hydro… I don't know if he even realizes how much danger he put everyone in. How can he think that's okay?"
Yurei's hands were stuffed into his pockets, gaze fixed on the ground. "I get it. He was trying to help. But… help isn't enough if people almost die because of it."
Kai leaned against the palm tree, silent, watching Hydro's retreating figure. His expression was unreadable, but his shoulders were tense.
Hydro's mind raced, thoughts tumbling like debris in a storm. He wanted to tell them the truth, to explain that he hadn't been reckless for the sake of power, that he had only been protecting them. But how could he? How could he explain the cosmic scale, the shadow soldiers, the monsters, Ghost? They didn't need to know—they didn't deserve to know—but the pain in their eyes was a weight heavier than any sword or monster.
He walked alone along the sand, the sound of the waves mixing with the fading echoes of Bea's voice. "Get out… I don't want to see you again…"
Every step carried the weight of isolation. Every heartbeat reminded him of the trust he'd fractured, of the fear he'd caused. He felt… lost.
And maybe he was.
Hydro disappears into the horizon, alone, with the sun reflecting off the waves. His friends stay beneath the palm tree, still shaken, conflicted, whispering amongst themselves, unsure if they hate him, forgive him, or fear for the next time.
Hydro walked silently through the shattered streets leading into Nagashima Spa Land. The sun was dipping low, painting the wreckage in muted reds and oranges, reflecting off twisted metal, shattered glass, and half-collapsed structures. Ambulances, police vans, and military vehicles swarmed the area, personnel rushing in every direction to manage the chaos. Hydro kept his hood up, hiding his face, blending into the swarm of rescuers and civilians alike. His own footsteps felt heavy, each one a reminder of the destruction and the chaos he couldn't stop—or perhaps, that he had caused.
He wandered past rows of medical tents where nurses and doctors were tending to the injured. The wail of sirens mixed with the hum of generators. Hydro paused for a moment, looking at the paramedics moving a stretcher into a mobile unit. His hands twitched at his sides, wanting to run over and explain, to fix things—but he couldn't. Not here. Not now. He was a ghost in the disaster he had indirectly stirred.
From the distance, he could hear faint voices shouting instructions, but he couldn't respond. Instead, he pulled a small item from his duffel bag: a mini toy car version of his Mercedes-Benz trailer truck, a small keepsake from a life that had never been normal. His fingers clenched it softly, almost unconsciously, before he placed it back in the bag. No time for nostalgia. There was no time for him.
Hydro moved, walking through the streets as police blocked debris-strewn lanes. Each step felt heavier than the last, the city around him fractured and in ruins, and he couldn't shake the thought that it was all his fault. A year ago, a decision. One choice. And now, this—the chaos, the danger, the innocent lives almost lost. He could blame no one but himself.
Hydro navigated the wrecked streets with quiet determination. He avoided the heavy rescue zones, slipping through alleys and side streets. The distant wail of emergency vehicles echoed behind him. Occasionally, he peeked through shattered windows of abandoned buildings or the twisted metal of collapsed kiosks, seeing civilians who had survived, trying to make sense of what happened. Faces twisted in shock. Children clutched the hands of terrified parents. The scene made his chest ache, but he kept moving.
Finally, he arrived at the main bus station on the outskirts of the Spa Land. Buses idled, their engines humming, carrying passengers away from the destruction. Hydro boarded a bus, taking a seat by the window, his hoodie pulled tightly around his face. Outside, the city of Nagashima stretched, partially in ruins, partially untouched—a fragile line between survival and disaster.
Through the glass, Hydro watched the world blur past, feeling disconnected from everything. Lights flickered across the streets, a shattered neon sign reflecting in puddles of rainwater. The bus rattled forward, carrying him further from the site, further from the disaster he couldn't undo.
Back at the Palm Tree, Bea and the others were still reeling from the chaos. Milky Way had arrived, his voice calm but urgent as she approached the group.
"You okay?" he asked, scanning each face carefully.
Bea crossed her arms, jaw tight. "We're fine… mostly. But we need to move. Now. There's still chaos, and this area is unstable."
Mina looked back toward the wreckage, her small hands clutching her backpack straps. "Do you think… is this really Hydro's fault?" she asked quietly. Her voice carried worry that belied her age, a worry that hit Bea hard.
Bea didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked at the chaos around them, at the distant fire and emergency lights, at the scars left on the Spa Land. Finally, she nodded. "We don't know for sure. But we have to assume the worst. And we have to stay safe."
The group began moving, carefully navigating the area under Milky Way's guidance. Every step reminded Bea of the close call they had survived. And every thought reminded her of Hydro. The boy who had caused, or at least indirectly influenced, the disaster—someone they hadn't fully understood until it was too late.
Hours later, the bus finally pulled up to the Tokyo Bay port. Hydro stepped off, feeling the wind whip across his face, carrying the scent of salt and diesel. Ships lined the docks, but one ferry in particular caught his eye—a massive jet ferry, still docked, waiting for passengers.
He walked slowly toward it, the duffel bag heavy at his side. Inside, his mini Mercedes toy truck rested, a reminder of his life, his burden. Hydro paused, looking back at the city he was leaving behind. The smoke, the sirens, the chaos—it all pressed against his chest, suffocating him.
Finally, he boarded the ferry. Inside, he found a quiet corner, placing his duffel bag on the floor. The hum of the engines, the creak of metal, the faint scent of fuel and sea—all of it surrounded him. Hydro slouched in his seat, staring at the floor, trying not to think about the friends he had left behind, the lives almost lost, the anger and pain he couldn't repair.
The TV in the ferry terminal flickered to life, showing the latest footage of the disaster. Crumpled streets, destroyed buildings, people evacuating en masse. But no one mentioned or showed him. No image of Hydro. No hero shots. Just chaos. And the weight of it all bore down on him even more.
Back at the Palm Tree, Bea and the others had finally stopped to rest. They gathered around a small campfire, the glow illuminating their tired faces.
"I can't believe she… that she yelled at him like that," Atlarus murmured, poking at the fire with a stick.
"It's not just that," Terry said, her voice low, tense. "He… he put all of us in danger. And Mina… poor Mina. I can't get over how close we all were to… I mean…"
Bea didn't reply immediately, staring into the flames, jaw tight. "I know it was harsh," she admitted finally, voice softening. "But he… he almost killed us all without even realizing it. I needed him to understand just how serious this was. Maybe I went too far. Maybe I scared him too much."
Nate frowned. "Too far? Bea, he left. He's gone. And now what? We can't reach him. We don't know if he's okay. And it's all because… because of what we said, what we did. We pushed him away."
Kristine wrapped an arm around Mina, who looked small and uneasy next to her. "I just… I hope he's safe. That's all. We can argue about everything else later. Right now… we need to hope he's alive."
Yurei leaned back, arms crossed. "Hope isn't going to fix him. If he's out there alone, and if something happens again…" His voice trailed off, heavy with worry.
Kai remained silent, staring at the fire. Every muscle in his body was tense. He finally muttered, "We have to find him. Somehow. We can't just wait for disaster to strike again. But… where does anyone even start?"
Suddenly, a blur of movement approached from a distance. A woman was running, desperation written across her face. Milky Way instinctively blocked the way, confused.
"Who… who are you?" Milky asked.
The woman skidded to a stop, panting. "I… I need to know! Where is Hydro?"
Bea stepped forward, brow furrowed. "Hydro? He's not here. Why are you looking for him?"
The woman, Aimi, shook her head frantically. "I thought… I thought he was with the Otakufest Staff! Last, he gave us an access coupon! He's supposed to be working! We thought he… he might be…" Her voice cracked, almost breaking.
Bea's expression softened slightly, and she gently put a hand on Aimi's shoulder. "He's fine. At least… he's alive. He left Nagashima. He's safe for now. Don't worry."
Aimi's shoulders sagged slightly, relief and panic mingling. "I… I just… I thought we lost him during the disaster."
Bea nodded, phone in hand. She dialed Hydro's number, hoping for a sign, a signal, anything. But only silence answered.
Mina's pocket buzzed. She pulled out a phone. "Wait… this is Hydro's. He said I need to keep it safe."
Bea's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no…"
Atlarus shook his head slowly. "Wait, Hydro kept his phone from Mina? But I thought he holds his phone on him at times?"
Hours passed. Bea, Atlarus, Terry, Nate, Kristine, Yurei, Kai, and Mina tried repeatedly to reach Hydro. The terminal phones, mobile networks, radios, even Aimi's connections—they tried everything.
"We need to reach him," Terry said, desperation in her voice. "He could be anywhere."
"I know, but the signal's gone. He's gone," Bea said, voice heavy. "We can't track him. We don't even know where he's headed."
Nate rubbed his face. "This is bad. We should have stayed together, waited. He would have listened if we…" He stopped, shaking his head.
Mina clutched Kristine's hand, eyes wide. "I hope he's okay…"
The group stayed there through the evening, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Darkness settled over them, mirroring the uncertainty and guilt that weighed in their hearts. They didn't know if Hydro was hurt. They didn't know if he was angry, scared, or alone. And the more they thought about it, the heavier the silence became.
Hydro, somewhere across the water, couldn't know their worry. He didn't know if they were safe, if they were angry, if they had forgiven him—or if they even wanted to. Alone on the ferry, he stared out at the vast expanse of the bay, feeling every second stretch like years.
The world he left behind was broken. His friends were hurt, scared, angry. And yet… he carried the burden silently, believing that he alone could bear it.
The quiet tragedy. No victories, no resolution—just Hydro, the distance between him and everyone he cared for, and the weight of guilt and isolation pressing down like the setting sun on the shattered city below.
Alright, let's roll with this. I'll create **"I Think I'm Lost Again… [3/5]"** as a long, immersive chapter with Hydro in Korea, the Umbra interlude, and Bea & friends' apology segment. I'll make it emotional, reflective, and sprinkled with those little sad-humorous touches. Here's the draft:
Hours later, the ferry finally docked at a South Korean port. The evening sky was painted with cold purples and oranges, blending with the subtle gray of smoke and city lights. The icy air carried the scent of the sea mixed with faint exhaust from the port's massive ships. Hydro stepped off the ferry quietly, hood drawn low over his face, blending into the flow of people carrying luggage, hurrying toward customs and taxis. His steps were deliberate, almost measured, but heavy. The weight of the last few days hung like a storm cloud over him.
He walked through the port's busy streets, where neon signs glowed faintly against the snow-dusted pavement. Small vendors sold hot drinks to late travelers, steam curling into the cold air. Hydro's hands were tucked into his hoodie, pulling the fabric tight against his chest. The cold bit at his fingers, his ears, but he hardly noticed. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the chaos, the anger in Bea's eyes, the fear in Mina's, and the silent judgment of all his friends.
Hydro moved down narrow alleyways flanked by cafés and convenience stores, snow crunching under his boots. The streets glimmered under the orange haze of street lamps reflecting off the thin layer of ice. Every turn he took, he scanned for a place to stay, a roof to hide under for just one night.
A small sign caught his eye: "Hotel Solaria – One Day Only Stay Welcome." The neon flickered weakly, but it was enough. Hydro pushed open the door. Warm air hit his face, carrying the scent of clean linen and faint coffee from the lobby café.
At the front desk, a young agent looked up and smiled politely. "One-night stay?" she asked in accented English.
Hydro nodded, handing over a small bundle of cash. "Yes… just tonight."
The agent slid a keycard across the desk. "Room 305. Elevator's on the left."
Hydro took it without a word, pocketed it, and moved down the hall. Snow clung to the soles of his shoes and the hem of his hoodie. When he finally reached the room, he dropped his duffel bag onto the floor and collapsed onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, his breathing steady but heavy. The silence of the room pressed down, a stark contrast to the chaos he'd left behind.
Seconds later, the world shifted.
Hydro found himself back in Umbra, the shadow realm he had long commanded. The throne room stretched high above, shadows twisting and dancing along the walls. His shadow soldiers, his loyal constructs of power and devotion, materialized before him.
"My liege," Noirach said, stepping forward with the careful precision of a spider's movement. "Are you… all right?"
Hydro said nothing. He remained on the throne, head slightly bowed, hands clasped loosely over his lap. Silence stretched, thick and heavy. "My liege... We've been there. We see it all."
Umbrion, the Noctis-born first shadow soldier, stepped closer. "No matter what happens, my liege, you are still human—from the inside and outside. Do not mistake anger for your own fault."
Tensilang's twin blades shimmered faintly in the dim light as he spoke, voice low and steady. "Sometimes, the chaos of others feels like it is yours alone, but it is never so. You carry their fears, yes—but you do not own them. Remember, even shadows can carry warmth."
Dreadmaw, the massive dinosaur construct, lowered his head respectfully. "My liege, even if the world shouts its judgments, even if hearts are closed and voices scold, you are the keeper of order. And sometimes, that burden is unseen by all but those who follow you faithfully."
Dr. Totem, the Orc Sorcerer, adjusted his staff, the runes glowing faintly. "Your actions may seem invisible, but they echo in ways your friends will not yet comprehend. Allow them time, and allow yourself time. Both are necessary."
Finally, Terra approached, the calm aura of Hydro's first shadow soldier radiating like the sunrise breaking over a dark landscape. "Remember, my liege: no one is ever truly lost if they still remember who they are. Pain and anger are the world's way of testing the heart. You've survived the storm—it is not for nothing."
Hydro remained unmoved. His eyes were blank, fixed on some point beyond the throne room, somewhere between memory and thought. The soldiers exchanged glances, their concern unspoken but deep.
"You can still think about it, my liege," Noirach said softly. "There will be fixations in human emotions… and there is no shame in needing time."
The shadow soldiers bowed and turned, leaving the throne room one by one, stepping outside to continue their patrols of Umbra. Hydro was alone with his thoughts once more, the silence pressing in, but with a strange weight of calm lingering in the void.
Far across the sea, back in Japan, Bea and the others had gathered in a small studio near the Palm Tree. The air was thick with regret and worry. They had decided to record messages—not live broadcasts, but personal videos—to try to reach Hydro, to convey their apologies, their concern, and their fear.
Bea, camera in hand, sat cross-legged, face lit by the soft glow of the ring light. "Hydro… if you see this, I… I don't even know where to start. We… I went too far. I yelled. And, well…" she paused, voice catching slightly, "…you didn't deserve that. None of it. I was mad and scared, and I took it out on you. You know I can be a Maldita sometimes, okay? I—uh—yeah, I know it sounds stupid, but…" She exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I just… I hope you're not too mad."
Terry shifted in the background, rolling her shoulders nervously. "Hey… Hydro. We might not have the words to fix this, but… you didn't do anything wrong. I mean… okay, you kinda dragged us into chaos, but you didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. And, um… yeah, we overreacted too. Big time. So… sorry?"
Atlarus leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "Hydro, listen. I get it. You thought you were protecting everyone, right? And you did. I mean, technically, yeah… you saved us. But we almost got killed, and we didn't know that part. So… yeah. Sorry for yelling. You've always had a way of getting us out of sticky situations without anyone noticing, and… it's amazing, really."
Nate looked straight into the camera, scratching the back of his neck. "I know I don't say much, but, Hydro… man, we… I just… dang, I don't even know how to say this without sounding dumb. You're crazy, and we're lucky you're alive. And… yeah. We were stupid too. Sorry."
Yurei, arms crossed but voice soft, added, "Hydro… I don't really joke about this stuff, but… if you ever see this, know that even though we acted like we were mad, it was fear talking. We trust you, even when we're angry. Don't… don't ever think we're against you."
Kristine fidgeted slightly with her sleeves. "Hydro… I hope you're safe. We… I messed up too. We all did. I can't even imagine what it's like to carry all that on your own. But… we're proud of you. I mean it."
Mina, small and timid, piped up last. "H-Hydro… I… I hope you're okay. I didn't mean to make anything harder. You… you've always helped me… and… I just… I hope you forgive us if we weren't… careful."
Bea sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes. "Well, that's our sad, broken little video apology. Hopefully it reaches you… or maybe it's just for me to get out of my guilt. Probably both." She laughed softly, the sound shaky, more like a sigh. "Hydro… we really, really hope you see this. We're… sorry. Please come back safely. Please."
The camera continued recording for a few more minutes, capturing each friend's awkward attempts to be heartfelt, sad, and slightly humorous at the same time. They laughed nervously, wiped their eyes, and muttered half-coherent apologies—but each word was genuine.
Even in the chaos of the last year, even after the disaster, the fighting, and the near-death experiences, they hadn't lost sight of the bond they shared. Hydro might be distant, far away, possibly still carrying guilt and responsibility, but their hearts were with him—messy, awkward, and painfully sincere.
As the recording ended, Bea leaned back, the screen dark. "I hope he can forgive us someday," she murmured.
Terry nodded. "Yeah… and I hope he knows… we're still here. We'll… we'll wait for him."
Atlarus exhaled slowly. "Even if it takes a while. Even if he's far away. We're not giving up on him."
Nate's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "I hope… wherever he is… he knows he's not alone."
Kristine nodded, holding Mina close. "He'll see this… somehow. He has to."
And far across the sea, Hydro sat in his hotel room, hood pulled low, staring out the window at the snow-dusted streets of Korea. His hands rested on his knees. The world was quiet, almost peaceful, yet heavy with everything he carried—the memories, the guilt, the chaos, the love, and the friendships that couldn't yet touch him.
And somewhere deep down, he knew: they had not given up.
He just… wasn't ready to face them yet.
Now, the room was quiet — too quiet. Hydro sat on the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the sheets. The ceiling light buzzed like an insect caught in a trap. Snow drifted past the hotel window, the faint glow of Seoul's neon skyline leaking into the room through half-open curtains. For the first time in what felt like months, he wasn't bleeding, running, or shouting. Just breathing. Just tired.
Then the floor beneath him flickered.
A faint pulse.
Then a second one.
And before Hydro could even blink—
A glitch circle erupted from the ground beneath his feet.
"—What the hell—!"
He stumbled back, but the glitch expanded like a ripple across water. The air pixelated, breaking into cubes of blue and purple static. The sound turned metallic — like someone dragging steel across glass. He took one last look at the room — at the quiet, the snow, the peace he never got to keep — before the floor gave way.
"DAMN IT—!"
Hydro screamed as the world folded in on itself and swallowed him whole.
The fall didn't feel real.
It felt wrong.
Instead of air rushing past, it was data. Code streams, broken symbols, and half-deleted memories floated around him like holograms. He saw flashes — people he met, fights he fought, his friends' faces flickering in neon before melting into static. The fall twisted his stomach like vertigo and nostalgia had a kid.
Then — the sky broke open.
Below him wasn't ground. It was a city, suspended in infinite darkness. Massive towers built out of broken interfaces. Floating billboards showing corrupted messages:
["404: Emotion Not Found"]
["Welcome Back, User #0001"]
["SYSTEM: REBOOT INITIATED"]
Hydro kept falling. Past floating cars that beeped like panicking drones, past trains made of neon light that curved around skyscrapers. One of those trains almost slammed into him—
CRASH.
Hydro hit the windshield, shattered it — glass (or whatever glass means here) cracked into a thousand light fragments. He slipped sideways, spinning out of control. There was no pain — just the feeling of reality glitching like a skipped frame.
"OH, COME ON—!"
He saw his duffel bag tumbling in midair. Reflex kicked in. Black smoke burst from his back — two jagged shadow wings, roaring to life. Hydro dove, the world blurring into blue light streaks, reaching out for the falling bag.
The duffel bag moved.
It grew a hand.
A black, oily, symbiotic hand.
It grabbed onto a passing steel beam before Hydro even did, catching both of them in mid-fall. The impact rattled the structure, but it held. For a moment, everything froze — Hydro dangling in the cold digital wind, his reflection flickering across a dozen holographic panels.
He looked down.
Below was a vast, endless city — towers stretching forever, light veins pulsing between them like blood vessels in a machine.
He looked up.
The sky was a dome of corrupted code.
Then his eyes caught the sign glowing across the horizon:
[WELCOME TO THE HOME OF THE SYSTEM.]
Hydro's heart stopped for a beat.
"…You gotta be kidding me."
Hydro walked.
Every step echoed through a street that wasn't real. Buildings glitched in and out — sometimes entire roads rewrote themselves under his feet. He passed storefronts that sold "Emotions," vending machines that dispensed "Data Packets," and posters of faceless people smiling with the text:
["YOUR SYSTEM LOVES YOU."]
Each time Hydro looked away, the ads changed. Some of them showed him.
Different versions of him.
Hydro Undergrove, the "Demon King."
Hydro Undergrove, the "System's Chosen One."
Hydro Undergrove, the "Last Outer God."
He smashed one screen with his fist, and it flickered into black pixels. "Don't call me that."
He kept walking.
Neon rain fell — liquid data that dripped like code. It stained his jacket, sizzled on the concrete. Hydro found a narrow alley, its walls made of cascading numbers. Somewhere, distant voices echoed — the whispers of the System's remnants.
["...User 001 detected…]
["...Error. Unauthorized presence in root directory…]
["...Hydro Undergrove: Unregistered anomaly…]
He pushed forward. A holographic cat meowed and glitched through his leg. He laughed weakly, voice hoarse.
"This place is broken… or maybe it's just me."
A floating drone zipped up in front of him, projecting a holographic face — a featureless mask with one blue eye.
["Welcome back, Hydro Undergrove. You have been absent for 1 year, 3 months, and 14 days. The System has missed you.]
Hydro's fist clenched. "What do you mean? I deleted you. You're not real anymore."
[We are never deleted, Hydro. We are backed up — inside you.]
Before he could respond, the drone short-circuited and exploded into binary dust.
Hydro reached the heart of the city — a massive plaza surrounded by skyscrapers that looped upward like a spiral. In the center, a fountain flowed with pure light. Reflected inside the stream were memories — Bea yelling, Mina crying, Kristine reaching out to him. The water stung to look at.
He dropped his duffel bag and stared at the fountain. "Oh man..."
The reflection changed — showing him standing on the throne in Umbra, silent, empty-eyed. The moment he stopped speaking to his soldiers.
He heard their voices again — Noirach, Umbrion, Tensilang, Dreadmaw, Dr. Totem, Terra.
They echoed from the glitches, faint but steady.
Noirach: "You've carried too much for too long, my liege. Even gods need to remember why they stand."
Umbrion: "You've seen eternity, yet you keep chasing something mortal. That's not weakness — that's proof you're still human."
Tensilang: "Even steel bends when it's forged too many times, Hydro. Maybe stop trying to be unbreakable."
Dreadmaw: "You bleed, you feel, you break. That's the part of you that the System could never replicate."
Dr. Totem: "Reality and data — both are code. You just need to choose which one's worth debugging."
Terra: "When you finally stop fighting yourself, maybe you'll realize no one was ever against you."
Hydro closed his eyes. His fists trembled.
"Then why does it still hurt like hell?"
Hours blurred. Hydro wandered into a district filled with flickering holograms of people laughing, shopping, dancing — all of them frozen mid-frame. It was like walking through ghosts. Every few steps, a voice would play:
[Hello, User.]
[Would you like to continue?]
[System error detected.]
Hydro slumped against a lamppost. The light above him flickered like a dying heartbeat.
"This place… it's a graveyard. Not of people — but of choices."
He opened his duffel bag. Inside, Ghost rested quietly, still sealed in cloth. Its hilt shimmered faintly, reacting to the world. Hydro whispered,
"I just wanted to return you. I thought that was the right thing… but maybe I just made everything worse."
The sword pulsed — like it understood. Or maybe that's just what he wanted to believe.
The ground shook.
A massive ripple of light surged across the horizon, buildings folding like origami. Hydro barely managed to stand before an enormous hologram appeared in the sky — a face made of pure static.
[WELCOME BACK, ORIGINAL USER.]
The voice was everywhere, like thunder and whisper combined.
[THE SYSTEM HAS BEEN WAITING.]
Hydro's body locked up — old memories rushing back. The System. The origin of his power. The curse that never fully died.
He shouted, "You're gone! I ended you! You don't exist anymore!"
[WE EXIST WHEREVER YOU DO, HYDRO UNDERGROVE.]
[WE ARE YOUR REGRET. YOUR CREATION. YOUR MIRROR.]
And then the city broke open.
Every building turned into glowing strings of data. The ground fell away, leaving Hydro standing on a platform of light. The holographic face smiled — if you could call it that.
["YOU CANNOT LEAVE. YOU NEVER COULD.]
Hydro took a step back, shadow wings bursting out again. "GET OUT OF THE WAY."
He launched himself upward, shattering the data walls, flying past collapsing skyscrapers, streaking through glowing debris. But no matter how high he flew — the city kept looping. Infinite.
He was trapped inside a recursive world made from his own code.
Hydro screamed — not out of fear, but out of frustration. "I deleted you! WHY WON'T YOU STAY DEAD?!"
[BECAUSE YOU STILL THINK YOU DESERVE US.]
That line cut deeper than anything else.
Hydro fell — wings folding back — landing hard on the platform again. He was breathing heavy, trembling, eyes wide. The hologram vanished, leaving only the whisper of the System in his head.
[You can't fix everyone, Hydro… not even yourself.]
Time didn't exist here. Maybe minutes, maybe days.
Hydro wandered through the ruins of what used to be "The Home of the System." It was quiet now — no drones, no lights, just the hum of dying data. The air was cold and metallic, tasting like regret.
He sat down on a floating shard of glass, staring into the digital void. The city reflected in his eyes — infinite, broken, and beautiful in its decay.
"I think I'm lost again…" he muttered to himself, voice trembling. "I thought… if I just kept moving forward… maybe something good would come out of all this. But every step I take just feels like another loop."
His hand brushed the duffel bag beside him. Ghost hummed faintly again, like it wanted to speak but couldn't.
Hydro chuckled bitterly. "You ever feel like… everything's just data pretending to be real? Maybe that's all I am too."
A cold wind passed — digital snow falling softly. For once, Hydro didn't move. He just sat there, watching the glitch flakes land on his hands and melt into nothing.
Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a soft piano played — maybe an echo from the real world, maybe just his memory of Bea's music. It was almost comforting.
Almost.
Hydro leaned on the edge of a broken building, watching the digital snow fall endlessly. Somewhere in the glitching skyline, he thought he heard voices — faint echoes of laughter, of friends calling his name. Maybe it was his imagination. Maybe not.
He smiled — tired, but genuine.
"…Guess I'm not totally lost yet."
Then, far beneath him, the city lights flickered again — and a new portal started forming.
Hydro stood up, grabbed his duffel bag, and whispered under his breath,
"Alright, System. Round two."
And he jumped. Everything blurred into static light. Hydro's body hit the end of the digital tunnel — tumbling through code streams and error voids — when something grabbed his wrist.
A hand.
Big, calloused, but steady.
"Stay away from those things!"
A voice boomed like thunder through the corrupted abyss. The figure's silhouette was enormous — a humanoid wrapped in fractured data wings that glowed like broken constellations. Behind them, a swarm of red-coded entities were diving fast — digital monsters shaped like twisted servers, their jaws lined with neon teeth.
The figure snapped his fingers — and the entire space folded.
Hydro and the mysterious being crashed through a glowing trap door that materialized in midair. It slammed shut above them, cutting off the howls of the red swarm.
For a second, nothing. Just dark.
Then — gravity kicked in.
They fell through the void and landed hard on a smooth, glassy surface. Hydro coughed, brushing the dust — or whatever passed for dust here — off his jacket. The floor shimmered like a pool of light. Slowly, the environment began to stabilize.
He looked up — and froze.
The chamber around them stretched endlessly — a digital temple, towering and grand, built from ancient code and golden algorithms that streamed like waterfalls. Massive pillars floated midair, carved with symbols from a language Hydro hadn't seen in years.
It looked… familiar.
Hydro blinked. "Wait… this—this is the Temple from the Original Timeline…" He turned slowly, scanning the floating stairs and glowing statues of his past battles. "Why the hell is everything blue and digital?"
The large figure beside him chuckled softly.
"Hydro... Did you fall again?"
That voice. Smooth. Grounded. Calm in a way only an ancient being could sound.
Hydro turned sharply. "Wait, how do you—"
The figure reached up and lowered his hood.
Light spilled across his face. His hair — silver-white with streaks of light blue. His eyes — golden, radiant, but kind. His features sharp yet calm, like someone who had seen the end of worlds and still smiled through it.
Hydro's throat tightened. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"S—Soma?"
The man smiled faintly.
"Hello, Hydro."
Hydro's breath caught in his chest — then burst into a laugh that was half relief, half disbelief. "Oh my god… You're alive!" He stepped forward, almost tripping, before punching Soma lightly on the shoulder. "You absolute ghost! I thought you were—"
"Deleted?" Soma grinned. "Yes, I heard the rumors."
Hydro shook his head, laughing breathlessly. "You don't understand. You died, man. I watched the temple collapse. I thought that was it."
Soma shrugged. "You of all people should know that data never truly dies, Hydro."
Hydro chuckled. "Yeah… fair." He paused, his expression softening. "But seriously. It's good to see you. You look… different."
Soma glanced at himself — his body flickered like a hologram, armor made of blue light and traces of code. "Well, not really alive-alive. Just existing in a better format."
Hydro smirked. "Still sassy as hell, huh?"
Soma smiled. "Always."
For a moment, they stood there in silence, both just taking it in — the temple's hum, the faint sound of digital wind moving through data pillars.
Hydro's voice broke the silence. "I thought this dungeon collapsed with the System. You're telling me it's all still here?"
Soma nodded gently. "Not exactly. This isn't the real one. This is a replica — a safe zone, built from a memory. When the original world was rewritten, the System preserved fragments of itself… and me."
Hydro frowned. "Wait, you're saying this was all a backup?"
"Exactly. Back in the original timeline," Soma said, walking slowly toward a large digital statue, "I used this place to test your strength. When you reached Level 100."
He brushed his hand across the statue's surface, and the code illuminated, showing faint echoes of Hydro's past fights. "You were reckless. Brave. Chaotic. But you learned faster than anyone I'd ever seen."
Hydro laughed softly. "Yeah, sounds like me. Breaking stuff until it works."
"Some things never change," Soma smiled, motioning Hydro to follow him. "Come. There's something I want to show you."
They walked down a shimmering corridor that opened into a massive digital garden.
Hydro stopped in awe. Trees made of glowing circuits. Branches dripping with silver leaves. Streams of data flowing like rivers beneath them. Butterflies made of light danced across the air. Above, the digital sky shone like an aurora, rippling in blues and pinks.
"This…" Hydro breathed, "…is insane."
Soma turned back with a smile. "Welcome to Undergrove. Named after you, actually. The last safe zone of the System."
Hydro raised an eyebrow. "You named a realm after me? Bro, that's awkward as hell."
Soma chuckled. "You earned it. This world only exists because of the choices you made back then."
They walked past tall digital oaks whose roots pulsed like veins of data. The air was soft — humming with warmth and nostalgia.
Hydro looked around, his expression gentling. "It's peaceful… I didn't think peace was possible in anything tied to the System."
Soma glanced up at the glowing sky. "I tried to make it different. This place isn't about combat or hierarchy. It's about reflection."
Hydro smirked. "You sound like a therapist now."
"Maybe I became one after you left." Soma laughed quietly.
They reached a stone bench beside a shimmering digital lake. The reflection on its surface looked too real — like it was showing both the code and the world it once mirrored. Soma sat down, folding his hands.
"Hydro," he began, "do you remember why I created the System?"
Hydro tilted his head. "I mean, yeah — you said it was to push humans beyond their limits. To evolve through data, right?"
Soma nodded slowly. "That was the original intention. But it wasn't just about strength. It was about rebirth. Giving people who'd lost everything a second chance."
Hydro's gaze softened. "...A second life."
"Exactly."
Soma's eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the light from the lake. "You were the first one who didn't use the System out of greed or ambition. You used it because you wanted another shot — not at power, but at being human again. That's why you were different."
Hydro looked down at the glowing ripples. "I guess I just… couldn't accept dying when there was still something left undone. I thought the System could give me that — a second chance to fix what I ruined."
Soma nodded. "And it did. But at a cost."
Hydro sighed. "Yeah. Everything costs something."
The silence between them wasn't heavy. It was reflective. Like both of them understood the weight without needing to explain it.
Soma smiled faintly. "You've grown, Hydro. The boy I met years ago would've never admitted that."
Hydro laughed. "The boy you met years ago was an idiot."
"The boy I met years ago," Soma corrected gently, "was human. And sometimes that's more powerful than anything divine."
Hydro grinned a little, then leaned back, hands behind his head. "You know… this is the first time in forever I actually feel… calm."
"Then stay here awhile," Soma said. "You've earned it."
Hydro looked at him. "What about the outside world?"
Soma smiled. "It'll wait. Time flows differently here. A minute outside could be hours in here."
"Damn… wish I could do that during exams," Hydro muttered.
Soma laughed softly. "Still the same humor."
They sat by the lake as digital petals drifted across its glowing surface. The air shimmered with warmth — something rare in a world made of code.
Soma spoke after a while, voice gentle but thoughtful. "You know, when I first built the System, I thought I was helping humanity. I thought if I gave them power, they'd rise above pain. But power doesn't erase pain — it just gives it new armor."
Hydro nodded slowly. "Guess that's what I learned too. No matter how strong I get, the hurt still finds its way through the cracks."
Soma looked at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "And yet, you keep fighting. That's what makes you remarkable, Hydro. You carry guilt, loss, anger — and still, you look forward."
Hydro laughed softly, shaking his head. "Nah, I just don't know how to stop."
"Maybe that's the same thing."
Hydro fell silent for a long time, watching the lake. "You ever regret it?"
"Creating the System?" Soma asked.
"Yeah."
Soma exhaled slowly, eyes distant. "Every day. But if I hadn't… I never would've met you."
Hydro froze for a second — his throat caught. Then he smiled softly, the kind that hurts just a little. "You got a real bad habit of making emotional moments sound like boss dialogue."
Soma chuckled. "Old habits."
The two of them just sat there. Two beings from different fates, bound by choices that rewrote universes, sitting in peace for once.
The lake shimmered brighter — like it was listening.
Hydro leaned forward, dipping his hand into the glowing water. The ripples reflected his human face — tired, bruised, but calm. For the first time, he didn't see a monster staring back.
After a long silence, Hydro spoke again.
"Hey, Soma…"
"Yeah?"
Hydro's voice grew quieter, but his curiosity cracked through. "There's something I never understood. You created the System — but someone else made the Judgment Program, right? The one that… uh, 'balances' gods and mortals?"
Soma's expression changed. His calm softened into something uncertain. "Yes. But that… wasn't me."
Hydro turned toward him. "Then who—"
Soma stood up, looking out at the horizon — where the digital lake met the glowing sky. His eyes flickered like an old terminal booting up. "Another Creator. One I thought was gone long before you were born."
Hydro frowned. "Wait, who?"
Soma didn't answer. His gaze stayed fixed on the distance, where the light began to flicker and distort — like something was waking up beneath the surface of the world.
"Hydro…" Soma said quietly, his tone shifting. "Promise me you'll stay here a little longer. You're not ready to face what's beyond this place yet."
Hydro's jaw tightened. "Soma—"
But Soma just smiled. "Not yet, my friend. For now… rest. The world can wait."
The wind picked up, scattering blue petals across the lake as Hydro turned his gaze outward. Somewhere deep in the reflection, an enormous shadow flickered — tall, unformed, waiting.
Hydro stared quietly, eyes narrowing.
"…Guess I'm not done after all."
The lake rippled once more.