At first I thought I was in a red world, but as I opened my eyes and squinted, I realized I was standing in a field of red roses. Endless roses, stretching in every direction. Mist curled between them, slow and heavy, tinted the same crimson shade as the moonlight above. Everything was washed in red ,like the whole world had been soaked in it.
The strange part wasn't even the color. The strange part was that I didn't know what ability I had used to get here. I couldn't even remember the moment it happened. One blink ,and then this. A new place. A quiet place. A lonely place.
But I didn't care anymore.
The Demon was nowhere to be seen. No heavy footsteps. No voice. Just me, the red fog, and this endless field of roses.
"Haaa…"
I sighed as I let myself fall backward into the roses. The stems bent under me, their thorns scraping lightly against my aura but not piercing through. It didn't matter anyway. Even if they could hurt me, I still wouldn't have gotten up. I didn't want to.
My sister's fate was unknown.
And it wasn't my fault… right?
The thought sounded weak even inside my own head.
If I hadn't gained my semblance, I wouldn't have gone to the Grimm lands. Yang would've never been dragged into it. She would've never been in danger. As those regrets rose up, one after another, I tried to push them away ,but they just kept coming back, louder every time.
I noticed something strange then.
The moon.
It was whole. Not cracked. Not broken. Just… complete. Round and red, directly above me. There were no stars in the sky, no clouds, only mist below and red light everywhere.
I stayed silent as my thoughts swirled around me.
Where am I?
I didn't know. And I couldn't bring myself to care anymore. It felt like all the strings inside me had been cut. Not because I was tired, not because my body hurt… but because this place was too quiet. Too beautiful ,tranquil and calm. these emotions, of corse leads to thinking.
And thinking leads to the worst kinds of thoughts.
like doubt or self pity or even despair.
Normally I'd smile. I'd laugh. I'd distract myself. Tell a joke. Pretend everything was okay. But here, with the roses and the mist and that red moon and being all alone, I couldn't run anymore.
Was it really my fault?
Yang's words echoed faintly in my mind ,Don't blame yourself for what your semblance does.
Were they true?
Or was my semblance just giving me what I wanted most?
I wanted an adventure. And what's an adventure without an enemy?
I wanted power and challenges. So it gave me an evil god, power I didn't understand, and trials that kept taking and taking.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips.
"Maybe it is my fault," I muttered. "Maybe all of it is connected to me."
The doctor came to mind too ,dragged away from his world, his life, because of me. Because I wanted something. Because I reached too far. The thought curled tight in my chest, sharp and cold.
Something white moved at the edge of my vision.
I tensed immediately, my body going still, eyes snapping toward it.
A white spider crawled slowly across the roses. Then I noticed another. And another. Dozens of them, moving silently between stems, weaving thin red-tinted webs between the thorns. Their eyes glowed faintly crimson, and the ends of their legs tapered into sharp points, like tiny spears.
They had been here the entire time.
I let my body sink back again and stared up at the red moon. A tired, crooked smile found its way onto my face.
"Figures," I whispered. "Even here I'm not really alone. Just… surrounded by things that don't care."
The roses rustled softly around me, like they were listening. The spiders worked without pause. The mist drifted and curled, brushing my cheeks like cold breath.
And I continued to think.
"I wanted adventure… and it cost me my sister."
"My semblance gave me everything I asked for," I thought, bitterness slowly warming into anger, "and took everything I never meant to give."
My voice came out small but rough. "Was this really what I wanted? Is this what I deserve?"
The silence didn't answer.
I felt only the roses surrounding me as I lay upon the endless fields of roses. And all that I could see are the misty crimson, hanging moon upon the night sky.
The roses pressed against my back and arms, their petals soft but heavy, like they were trying to hold me down. Thorns brushed against my skin through my clothes, not enough to draw blood, but enough to remind me they were there. The air smelled sweet and thick, almost sickly, almost suffocating. Every breath felt slow, like the world itself didn't want me to move, like it was whispering for me to stay still and sink into the flowers.
I looked up once more, to the sky and saw only the hand drawn crimson moon and the misty fog around me. The fog moved slowly, curling and stretching like it was alive, hiding everything beyond a short distance. It coiled around the roses like soft snakes, sliding over the petals and vanishing into the shadows.
Occasionally, spiders could be seen at the corner of my eye. They were white, pale against the red, almost glowing. They spun their webs quietly, threads stretching from rose to rose, forming little shelters around me. Some of the silk brushed against my sleeves and hair, sticking gently before drifting away. I didn't bother to move. I didn't care. Let them build whatever they wanted.
I wasn't going anywhere.
The only thing I could really hear was my own heartbeat and my thoughts. The field was silent, almost too silent, like sound itself had been swallowed by the night.
I am so pathetic, I thought. The word just dropped into my head and stayed there. Pitiful. Weak. I felt it echo, like someone was saying it back to me.
"Yeah," I muttered under my breath, my voice rough and small. "I know."
My fingers curled slightly into the roses at my sides. The petals were soft but the stems were not. A few thorns pressed harder into me when I moved. I let them.
Why am I like this? I asked myself. Why am I lying here? Why can't I just get up?
The answer didn't come. The only thing that answered was the slow drifting fog.
I imagined a voice then, not from the sky but from right beside me.
"Get up, Ruby," Yang would have said, half annoyed, half smiling.
I didn't turn my head. I didn't look. I knew she wasn't there. The thought just made my throat tighten.
"I can't," I whispered back to the empty air, more to myself than anything. "I really... I just can't right now."
The moon looked down on me like it was judging me, like it was bored of watching me lie here.
"What do you want from me?" I asked it softly, anger flickering just a little beneath the words. "More? You already took everything."
The mist around me thickened for a moment, then thinned again, sliding past like slow breath. The spiders continued weaving.
I felt small. Smaller than I ever had before.
"I tried to be strong," I thought. "I really did. I tried to be happy. I tried to be the one who smiles, the one who fixes things." The thoughts came simply, not grand, just honest. "And look where I am now."
A quiet laugh slipped out of me, but it wasn't happy. It was tired, shaky, and there was something sharp under it, like heat trying to break through.
"This is pathetic," I said softly. "I'm pathetic."
My eyes stayed fixed on the crimson moon. It hung impossibly still, like it had been painted onto the sky and then forgotten. The mist below it shifted and twisted, wrapping around the roses, brushing over my boots, sliding around my arms like cold breath. The red light covered everything, my cloak, the petals, even the white spiders, giving them a faint crimson glow that made them look unreal.
The roses rustled faintly around me, though there was no wind, like they were moving on their own.
Looking back up at the moon, I could only think.
I am so pitiful, I thought to myself. The word echoed in my head, heavy and slow. Pitiful. Weak. Stupid. Each word felt like it landed somewhere inside my chest and just stayed there, not moving, not fading. I didn't even try to argue with it. I just let it sit.
The roses rustled faintly around me as if they were reacting to my thoughts, though there was no wind. Their red petals brushed my arms and cloak, soft but cold, and the faint scent of them wrapped around me like a blanket that was too tight, too close, too full of memories I didn't want anymore.
I wanted to gain a semblance, but it cost me my peace and happiness. I remembered how badly I wanted it, how excited I was, how sure I was that it would make everything better. Back then, it felt simple. Just train harder, get stronger, smile through it. I told myself it was worth it. I told myself I could handle it. I thought power meant control.
Now power just felt like another weight on my back.
"I really thought that was all it would take," I whispered to myself, almost bitterly. "Just try harder. Just be better." The words tasted sour in my mouth.
I wanted an adventure, but it cost me my sister.
That thought hit harder than the others. It was like something closed around my chest. My breathing slowed for a moment. Yang's smile flashed through my mind, bright, confident, always there like a sun I could count on. I saw her leaning toward me, eyes warm, like she always did when she was trying to reassure me.
"I've got your back, Rubes."
Her voice felt so real for a moment that I almost turned my head, expecting to see her standing there with her arms crossed, weight on one leg, that stupid grin that made everything feel possible. My fingers twitched like I was reaching toward her.
But there was only red. Roses. Mist. Spiders weaving quiet lines of white silk between stems.
My chest tightened more.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the empty air. My voice sounded small, almost lost among the roses. "I really thought I could do this. I really thought I wouldn't mess it up." Something hot flickered beneath the sadness, frustration, maybe, or anger at myself. "I really thought I'd be enough."
The mist drifted lazily around me, brushing against my boots and cloak like cold breath, then sliding away. The moon hung above everything, red and uncaring, flooding the field in its dim light. It made even my hands look stained.
All of these thoughts, and this sight, make me realize that I don't even know who I am anymore. Every choice I make feels wrong. Every thought forward feels like I am losing something else, like pieces of me were being peeled off and dropped behind me where I couldn't reach them. I try to stay strong, I try to stay like myself, but it feels like I am trying to interfere with something, inevitable.
Now "I don't even recognize myself," I thought. "I don't know if I like this version of me. I don't know if I'm even still me."
"Hahaha"
"hehehe"
I couldn't help but laugh. Laugh at my self, for I had nothing left to give.
"What else was I supposed to do?" I muttered, staring up at the moon.
The moon didn't answer.
Ruby smirked faintly as she lay alone in the thorn filled endless rose field.
"Heh... ha... heh..." The small, broken sounds slipped out of my mouth once more before I could stop them.
"Haaa..."
The breath left me slowly.
"In the end, I'm all alone," I said, my voice barely louder than the whisper of the mist. "Nothing is on my side. No one is on my side."
"Not even my own heart stands with me." I pressed a hand against my chest without really thinking about it. It felt hollow and too full at the same time. "Everything... everyone... even I have abandoned myself."
"There's no one left to recognize me," I went on, staring at the moon like it might give me an answer. "No one to encourage me on this thorn filled path." My gaze drifted over the roses again, the dark shapes, the hidden thorns, the petals like soft little lies.
"I feel cursed... yet luck left me long ago."
A small sigh slipped out of me, carried away by nothing, because there was no wind.
"Is this tragic?" I asked myself softly. "Or is it fascinating, Ruby?"... "Tell me, family... friends... classmates... acquaintances...which one haven't you already left behind."
The mist swirled slowly, the spiders continued their quiet weaving, and everything stayed calm, peaceful even.
"I have even left my dreams, hopes, and ambitions behind."... "In the end, I've become an empty shell that's only left with... myself. How can this be? How can it hurt so much?"
My throat tightened.
"How can it," The sentence broke off, hanging there with the mist, unfinished because I didn't have the strength to finish it.
"I can't persevere anymore," I said at last, voice rough. "Because I've already lost."
I stared down at my hands, half buried in roses.
"Lost everything. My dreams, my goals, my promises." Each word felt like a small drop of weight added onto me.
There was nothing else. Nothing left inside me that hadn't already been taken. My hands curled into the roses, fingers brushing against petals and thorns alike. Some of the thorns pressed against my skin, not enough to pierce, just enough to remind me they were there, waiting.
The sweet smell of the roses thickened around me, almost sticky, almost too much. The mist slid quietly between the stems, glowing faintly red in the moonlight, like it was breathing with me. I could hear nothing but my own slow breaths and the soft rustle of petals shifting under my weight.
As I thought this, I couldn't help but laugh in self pity. The sound came out small and uneven.
What now, Ruby? There's nothing left. You've lost your home. You may or may not have lost your sister, and the only thing you have now is your semblance and yourself, and even that is uncertain.
The words repeated inside my head like someone else was saying them to me. My jaw tightened.
"I can't even be sure I'm still me," I whispered. "Isn't that funny?" My voice shook on the last word, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh or scream.
The mist drifted around me, brushing over my face like cold fingers. The spiders kept moving carefully among the roses, weaving pale threads between stems and thorns, creating quiet little cages that caught the red light.
Even my hopes of becoming a huntress are fading, abandoning me down on this thorn filled path. That dream used to feel so clear. school . Friends. Fighting.. Training. Laughing. Running forward without thinking too much.
Now it feels distant, like something that belongs to another version of me.
"Was that really me?" I murmured. "Or was that just something I wanted to believe?"
Thinking about these things, I couldn't help it. I laughed in despair, the sound breaking halfway through as it caught in my throat. It sounded thin, like it could fall apart at any second. As despite what those two gods may have thought, I could feel them fighting within my soul, within my mind. Their presence felt like pulling from both sides, stretching me thinner and thinner.
It felt like being pulled apart from the inside, like no matter which way I turned, I was losing something.
I knew for a fact that in some form the evil God D had won, and the other mysterious Shiroari had also won in some way. They took what they wanted. They always do. Only I lost. Lost every thing. My smile, my happiness, my sadness, my hopes, my regrets, and even my Dreams and admiration were taken.
"....."
"I tried," I said softly. "I really did." The words came out flat at first, then cracked a little. "I tried so hard."
The roses swayed slightly, though there was no wind, as if they were responding, as if they understood. Their petals brushed against my cloak and arms, cool and heavy, wrapping around me like they wanted me to stay.
Although I do not know what the outcome for me will be, what I do know now is that I've lost. Upon this field of roses, there I lay, beaten and broken. Perhaps not beaten, I wasn't injured in the fight, but I was broken.
"..."
I feel like a failure.
My sister died in front of me, although that wasn't certain. I clung to that small doubt, even though it hurt like a thorn pressed straight into my heart. For now, I know that it's just wishful thinking. She probably died from those two explosions, one to destroy her aura and one to obliterate her. The images replayed in my head again and again, no matter how hard I tried to push them away, the light, the sound, the moment I realized I couldn't reach her.
There's no possible way a normal huntress would be able to survive, let alone a huntress in training like Yang.
"I should've been stronger," I whispered. "I should've protected you." My voice trembled, and my hands closed tighter around the roses until the stems bent. "That was my job. That was supposed to be my job..."
That's why I lay here with my thoughts and self pity. It was all that I could do.
"...."
I had no hope left.
"As I thought this, you couldn't help but once more laugh as you looked at the blood red moon in the sky."
As I thought this, I couldn't help but look at the blood red moon and the endless, misty night sky. The moon hung there like an eye that refused to blink, watching everything and saying nothing. The mist drifted slowly around me, crawling between the roses and brushing against my skin like cold breath. For a moment, despite everything, I couldn't help but admire the strange beauty of this place. I didn't even know where I was... and I didn't care. Beautiful or not, it wasn't home. It wasn't anywhere I asked to be.
Suddenly, my vision began to blur and I feel something wet on my face.
Confused, I lifted my arm and brushed my cheek with my fingers. My hand came away damp. It took me a moment to understand, and when I did, my heart twisted.
Tears.
They were flowing out of my eyes without my permission, warm trails sliding down my skin. I wasn't just crying, I was sobbing. The sound came out broken and uneven, and once it started, I couldn't stop it anymore. Everything I had been holding inside just collapsed. My throat hurt. My chest hurt. I felt like the roses' thorns had grown inside my ribs.
I was about to curl in on myself, to cry until I couldn't breathe, to just let it all spill out into the red field, when something blocked my view.
Because of the tears, my vision was blurry. The world smeared together in red and black and silver. A shape stood in front of me, a dark blur, and for a second I thought it was just the mist moving strangely. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to clear them, and slowly the silhouette sharpened.
It was... me.
Or something that looked like me.
She stood there among the roses, the petals brushing against her legs as if they welcomed her. Her hair was longer than mine, hanging like a dark curtain around her shoulders. Her eyes were different too, sharper, deeper, almost glowing faintly in the red light. Her face was calm and expressionless, like an ancient abyss.
But her voice wasn't empty.
It carried emotion, fake emotion, an emotion with one purpose, to twist, to poke and provoke, to mocked and laugh at my misfortune.
"You know," she said lightly, almost playfully, "I saw your sister when she went pop. Just like your semblance."
My stomach dropped.
"I know, I know," she went on, tilting her head as if listening to my silence, "you don't want to hear the gory details. But it's very exciting. Would you like to hear?"
I stared at her and tried to ignore her. My lips trembled, but no sound came out. I didn't trust my voice. "you don't trust my?#"=self. "
She smiled faintly.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Her words slid into me like knives.
"So," she said softly, "first her arm disintegrated. Then her legs. Then she was just a torso. That's when she really started to feel the pain... and then, there was nothing."
Then she smiled. The smile was fake. It stretched too wide, too flat. It was so fake that it hurt to look at, like she wanted me to see every flaw to let me know she didn't feel anything at all, she just wanted to smile and mock me.
Then she laughed.
It wasn't happy. It wasn't even truly amused. It was loud and ugly, and nothing about it tried to hide what it was meant to do.
"Ho boy," she continued, almost cheerfully now, "that sight was just like your mother. She got dunked into that black goo and simply melted away."
I froze.
She paused, then casually added, "Oopsi, oops. You weren't supposed to hear that. That's a spoiler."
Her eyes never left mine. She kept smiling even though I said nothing, even though I just lay there with tears running down my face and my hands shaking.
"Not going to answer?" she asked. "Just going to lie there and cry and drown in self pity?" Her voice softened, but only so it could hurt more. "Oh, Ruby... oh, Ruby. You are too laughable. Do you really think you can fool yourself?"
"No..."
"You are not laughable," she said. "You are pitiful. And sad."
"You wanted your mother's love," she continued quietly. "You wanted her happiness. You even admired her and wanted to be like her. But in the end, she disappeared and died... just like how you are disappearing now."
I tried to speak, to deny it, but the words wouldn't come. They were stuck somewhere behind my teeth.
"You wanted to make your father proud," she said, her voice almost gentle, which somehow hurt worse. "But instead, you vanished in front of him. You ran away from your own mess."
Images flashed through me, Dad's tired face, his worried eyes, the way he smiled like it was going to be ok now. My chest tightened until it hurt to breathe.
"You promised your sister Yang a bright future. You gave her hope... and in the end, you killed her yourself."
The words echoed in my skull like a bell. "And now what future is there?"
Her voice seemed everywhere, the air, the roses, the ground beneath me.
"What your semblance gave you," she said slowly, "was not glory. Not the honor of becoming a huntress. It wasn't hope. It wasn't happiness. It wasn't peace."
She leaned closer, her face covering mine, like a shadow obscuring the crimson moon.
"It was destruction."
I couldn't argue. I don't even know if I believed all of it myself.
"You are a real tragedy, Ruby," she finished softly. "Your whole life is a tragedy."
As she spoke, a smile broke upon her face and she couldn't help but laugh. She laughed hard, loud, free, and full of real feeling. Her laugh was not fake anymore. It was as if she wanted me to know that she truly believed every word she said.
Her laughter echoed through the endless field of roses, mixed with my quiet tears. She squatted down next to my face, her hair brushing against me as she looked into my eyes and continued to speak.
"You wanted a semblance. You thought this power would give you happiness, get you closer to your dream of becoming a huntress, but in the end, all it gave you was destruction, chaos, and your unhappiness."
She leaned down even closer, our faces almost touching.
"You wanted an adventure, but in the end, this event only lead your sister to her death."
She began to smile once more and leaned even closer. Our noses were almost touching now, our faces were as close as they could possibly be.
"Your semblance gave you power, but in the end, it cost you your very self. You're far from home. Essentially, you've lost it. You've lost your sister. You've lost your mother. You've probably lost your father, too. You've even lost your uncle, and now what else is there?
"Yourself?"
Looking at the face in front of me, and her silhouette steady against the dim, crimson moon. The air felt heavy, like it had settled long ago and never moved again. She tilted her head slightly and laughed, the sound light and unrestrained, echoing faintly as if the world itself had little interest in reacting.
"You don't even have that. That's right. You're just me now. Nothing more, nothing less."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. My body remained still, rooted where it was, while my thoughts lagged behind, scrambling to catch up. A dull pressure settled in my chest. Horror should have come first, or anger, or denial, but instead there was only confusion, thick and suffocating. I stared at her, trying to find something that wasn't familiar, something that proved she was wrong. I found nothing.
She continued, unmoved by the way my expression shifted, her tone level and almost conversational.
"At first, in that dream, we only had a connection. A thread. It linked you from my main body to yourself. That was all."
She gestured vaguely, as if the idea itself were insignificant.
"But because of this divine domain that you accidentally created, the thread thickened. It stabilized. It allowed me to influence you further."
The space around us felt empty, yet oppressive, like standing in a room too large to understand. I felt small inside it. Smaller still inside myself. Accidentally created. The words echoed. Of course it was my fault. It always was. Every mistake stacked neatly on top of the last, forming something I could no longer climb out of.
"I was initially just going to strengthen your negative emotions," she went on, her voice even, and unhurried. "Perhaps you'd accidentally kill your sister. That would've pushed you into despair. Or I'd let that demon kill her and let you feel pleasure from it. That would've been amazing. Or perhaps I'd do both."
She paused, not for effect, but as if checking a list.
"That was my initial plan."
My hands trembled slightly at my sides. I didn't lift them. I didn't even think to. The image formed too easily, sliding into my mind without resistance. My sister's face. Blood. Silence. The thought that part of me might have enjoyed it made my stomach twist. I hated myself for even imagining it. I hated myself more for knowing she was right to think I could.
"But as with all plans," she said, "they can't keep up with changes."
The air shifted faintly, like a pressure adjustment, though nothing visibly moved.
"When you first created this divine space, with that mark on your forehead, combined with that dual space you carried, I was very delighted. I intended to proceed exactly as planned."
Her eyes flicked briefly to the side, as if acknowledging something that wasn't there.
"But a meddling spider intervened at an inconvenient moment."
I felt it then... a subtle resistance, something faint but persistent, like a knot in a thread that refused to be pulled smooth.
"With that crystalline creature she consumed, she acquired power. Not raw strength. Information. Insight. She learned how to reduce one factor to enhance another. So she weakened my connection to you and reinforced her own."
Her tone didn't change, but the space itself felt tighter, as though layers were overlapping.
"She was, at first, nothing more than your instinct. Survival. Independence. An imprint layered over her soul onto yours. Insignificant on its own."
"Yet the real body noticed."
A pause. "..."
"She didn't sever my influence outright," D continued. "That would've alerted me. Instead, she adjusted the balance incrementally. A fraction at a time. Enough to delay me. Enough to obscure my reach."
My chest felt heavy. If she hadn't... if Shiraori hadn't done that... none of this would have mattered. Or maybe it would have ended faster. I wasn't sure which thought frightened me more.
"Despite her being only an imprint," D said, her voice still bland, "she maintained the connection. She hid it beneath your despair, beneath your self-blame. You never noticed."
I swallowed. Of course I hadn't. I barely noticed anything anymore. Every thought I had turned inward, sharpened itself, and pointed back at me. I was the flaw. I was the weakness. I was the opening she had used.
"And that," she concluded calmly, "was very frustrating."
"So I did what I do best," she said. "I forced the matter."
The space around us darkened slightly, not as if night had fallen, but as though the world itself had chosen to avert its gaze.
"I established an even greater connection and made my true body appear in this world. Of course, as the God of Darkness and the End, nobody noticed me entering. Not even those gods of yours. Those stupid dragons."
Her voice remained even, almost bored. The words carried no pride, no bitterness... merely fact. As she spoke, her outline wavered faintly, like a reflection disturbed by a ripple.
I felt a hollow weight settle in my chest. Lost control. The phrase echoed. Another failure layered atop countless others. Everything she described felt inevitable, as though the moment I existed, this outcome had already been chosen. I wondered, distantly, if resisting had ever been possible... or if that belief was just another lie I told myself to feel responsible.
"When I appeared in this world," she said, "I immediately began establishing a greater connection to you. To your power."
She took a slow step forward. I didn't move. I couldn't bring myself to. My body felt heavy, like it belonged to someone else entirely.
"I didn't want you merely because you're interesting," she went on. "Or because your power is interesting. I wanted you because you are an enigma. And I wanted to be you."
Her gaze settled on me fully now.
"I wanted your body. Your heart. Your soul. Everything you are. Forever and ever and ever."
The words slid into me effortlessly. There was no shock left to feel. Only a dull certainty that she was right. If someone like her desired me, then it meant I was broken enough to be claimed. I hated that part of myself... the part that didn't even reject the idea anymore.
"But that spider," she said, "had a few tricks up her sleeve."
The space shifted again, subtly reorganizing itself, as though invisible threads were being adjusted.
"As I strengthened our connection... to the point where we nearly became one... no one noticed. I concealed it perfectly. Even you didn't notice."
Her eyes flicked downward, briefly.
"But your instincts did."
I felt something tighten inside me.
"That damn Shiroari did. The real one. Not the shadow embedded in your soul."
My thoughts churned. Of course it wasn't me who noticed. It never was. I was too busy drowning in my own guilt, too busy hating myself for every weakness, every hesitation. While I stood still, something else had been moving.
"And while I was focused on merging us completely," she said, "I began using your power. Carefully. Indirectly."
Her voice remained level.
"That's why the demon kept getting stronger. I wasn't interfering in my usual way. I was interfering from within your body."
The realization settled like ash. Even my strength had been turned against me. Even the moments I thought I was failing on my own had been guided, nudged, twisted. I didn't know whether to feel relieved or disgusted. Either way, it feels like it is my fault.
She laughed then... a short, mocking sound that cracked the stillness... and continued, her tone sharpening just slightly, edged with irritation.
"That damn spider. The real one this time."
The space felt tense now, like a board bent too far without breaking.
"Just as I was about to succeed, she used that same power to increase and decrease, with that insight you have. She struck me with it."
Her eyes narrowed.
"She lowered what mattered. Increased what didn't. She weakened my dominance and reduced my presence. Relegated me to intrusive thoughts. Dark emotions. Fragments."
I felt my breathing grow shallow. So even this... the despair, the numbness, the self-loathing... hadn't been entirely hers. Or mine. It was all so tangled that the distinction barely mattered anymore. I couldn't even know where she ended and I began.
"Of course," she said calmly, "this wasn't the end of me. I'm not that easy to defeat."
Her posture straightened slightly.
"I had many tricks left."
A pause.
"But before I could use them, she acted first."
For the first time, there was a hint of genuine displeasure beneath her words.
"She combined with me completely. Without hesitation. She caught me off guard."
The space seemed to hold its breath.
"That spider hated me more than anyone," she said flatly. "She would rather die than become me."
My gaze lower as I thought.
If someone like her... something born entirely from survival, calculation, and cold persistence... hated this god so completely, then what did that say about me?
About how close I had already come to becoming her.
The realization pressed down on my chest, slow and merciless. It wasn't sharp enough to hurt properly. It simply stayed there, unmoving, like a weight I no longer had the strength to push away.
If this was the result of my existence, then maybe I truly had never deserved to exist at all.
That thought, quiet and absolute, slipped into place.
"And that, of course, allowed her plans to succeed."
"But only partially."
"She had become something like me. Not entirely. Not fully. More than she already was, but less than she had intended. The connection had shifted unevenly, distorted by interference and careful sabotage. What should have been domination became contamination instead."
After that, she fell silent.
She didn't speak. She didn't move. She simply stared at me, her expression unreadable, as though I were an object laid out before her, something to be examined rather than addressed. The space felt suspended, waiting for a decision that had already been made but not yet acted upon.
"You might be asking, Oh magnificent and beautiful and heavenly evil god D, why are you still tormenting me? Are you really that petty?"
She smiled then and looked at me.
"Of course I am that petty," she said evenly. "I'm an evil god."
There was no flourish in her voice; there was no need for one.
"But," she added, "there is another reason."
"I was relegated to dark thoughts within your personality and soul," she said. "Despite my vastness, I am behind you now. While you remain in front."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"But if you fall into despair," she continued, "or into hatred, or rage, or any sufficiently strong emotion, I can influence you. Slowly. Eventually."
Her tone remained bland, almost instructional.
"One day, I can take over completely.
"To accomplish this, I used the fact that I am you to influence you, to have darker emotions. "
"..."
She tilted her head.
"I can make you sad. I can make you give up. I can make you feel nothing. I can make you numb. I can make you despair."
A pause.
"I can even make you lose hope."
As the words settled, something finally aligned in my mind.
I understood why I couldn't get up.
Why I felt no anger toward the demon. Why hatred wouldn't rise no matter how much I searched for it. Why my body remained still, obedient, empty.
It wasn't that I was weak.
It was that my mind was no longer mine.
My hopes.
My dreams.
My promises.
They had all been taken quietly, long before this moment. Stripped away layer by layer, not through force, but through erosion. What remained was a shell that still thought it was choosing despair, even as despair had already chosen it.
A shiver ran up my spine.
Then it vanished.
"..."
She leaned closer. Much closer. Her smile deepened, more sinister than before, magnified by the closeness of our faces until our noses were almost touching. I could feel her presence pressing in from every direction, it was not overwhelming, nor was it violent... it's familiar.
Her smile widened further.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't summon the will to move.
I couldn't resist her.
She was too powerful.
No.
That wasn't it.
It wasn't that she was too powerful.
It was that she was me.
She was my despair.
She was my hopelessness.
She was my anger.
She was my laziness.
She was my rage.
She was everything within me that I had never confronted, only buried.
And I couldn't resist myself.
As her sinister smile settled into place, a hand reached out toward my face.
The space around us dimmed further, as if light itself was withdrawing. Her fingers had already lost their shape, melting into a slow, viscous darkness that dripped without falling. It reached for me without urgency, as if time itself were irrelevant. Not to grab. Not to strike. To envelop. To erase. To make me disappear into her.
I didn't move.
Part of me thought this was deserved.
But in that moment, just as the dark appendage was about to touch my face, my arm moved on its own.
My hand closed around her throat.
The sensation was wrong. My fingers didn't feel flesh so much as resistance, like gripping something that wanted to dissolve but was being held in place by force. Her body jolted slightly.
For the first time, she was genuinely surprised.
I noticed then that the hand gripping her was unnaturally pale. Too pale. The color of porcelain, or something artificial pretending to be human. It didn't look like it belonged to me. That realization sank in slowly, followed by a colder one.
I hadn't chosen to act.
The surprise... and the flicker of panic beneath it... crossed her face clearly. Then it vanished. Replaced by a smile.
The smile was not mocking, not cruel, but Proud.
"Oh yes. My greatest creation. Shiroari."
My grip tightened without instruction, my fingers digging in deeper as if responding to a signal I couldn't hear.
"You truly are my greatest joy," she continued evenly, "and my greatest pain."
Her voice remained calm. Observational.
As she spoke, her body began to sink.
The face I was looking at, and the throat I was holding, slowly lost cohesion. Her form melted downward into itself, turning into a dark liquid that pooled without reflecting anything. It resembled ink, but heavier. Like Darkness given form, or nothingness incarnate.
The process was slow.
So she kept talking.
While she melted, my body slowly began to respond again unwillingly. The stiffness in my limbs eased, as though something unseen had loosened its grip. The pale skin on my hand began to retract, color creeping back unevenly, like life returning to something that had briefly stopped being alive.
As sensation returned, so did emotion.
When it returned, I didn't feel any anger. I didn't feel anything. I felt something I had suppressed slowly coming out.
Just weight.
D... the darker version of me... continued to speak as if narrating a conclusion already reached.
"Oh yes. That little spider from long ago has already begun to scheme and plot," she said. "Just like me."
There was no anger in her tone. No admiration, either. Just fact.
"I am truly proud, as a parent," she went on, her voice even and unhurried, "that the little spider from the labyrinth has become an evil god of her very own."
Her descent slowed.
The darkness beneath her no longer scattered freely. It pooled instead, thick and resistant, like ink refusing to disperse in water.
It simply stayed.
At the same time the white pigment along my hand slowly began to creep back in, crawling over my skin like frost reclaiming ground. My grip tightened around her throat, not out of strategy, not even intent, but because something inside me refused to let go. At the same time, my other hand... the one untouched by that pallid whiteness... came down hard.
It smashed into her face.
The sound was dull, wrong, as if striking something that shouldn't have solidity at all. Her words cut off abruptly.
I snarled, breath tearing out of my chest as fragments of her voice echoed in my head... the way she spoke so easily about despair, about taking everything from me, about mocking my sister as if she were nothing more than a thing to toy with. The thoughts collided, overlapped, dissolved into something shapeless and furious.
I didn't notice the change at first.
My hair, once tipped with red, began to darken. The color deepened slowly, like blood left too long in shadow, then darker still, until it was almost black at the edges. The air around us felt heavier, thick with pressure, the scent of crushed roses rising as petals were ground beneath my feet.
She laughed.
"Is little Ruby going to cry?" she said evenly, the mockery slipping in only at the edges. "Here. Let me get your mother."
She made a soft beeping sound, artificial and hollow, like a scroll.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Click.
"I'm sorry, madam," she continued in a flat receptionist's tone. "The one you're calling is now dead."
Then she broke character and laughed, the sound ringing too clearly despite what was happening to her body.
"Shut up."
I drove my fist into her face.
The nose... shaped just like mine... burst into a spray of black, viscous liquid. It splattered across the roses, staining their pale petals.
She kept talking.
"Oh. Let me get your sister," she said, voice light, detached. "Oh wait. Where is she? She's splattered like a tomato and is now dead."
She laughed again.
I punched her.
Half of her skull collapsed inward, turning into that same black substance, slick and warm as it coated my knuckles and splashed across my face.
"Shut up."
"How about your father?" she went on calmly. "Oh wait. You abandoned him."
"Shut up!"
The words tore out of me as I struck her again and again, my arm moving faster than my thoughts could keep up.
"That was your fault!" I screamed, smashing what remained of her face, shattering it until there was nothing recognizable left. The dark liquid seeped into my skin, clinging, sinking, welcomed by something inside me.
"How about your uncle?" her voice continued, unchanged, even though there was no mouth left to speak.
"Aaaaagggg!"
"Oh wait," she said. "He's a deadbeat. He's never going to come save you."
I hit her again.
"Shut up!"
Somewhere in the chaos, my other hand began to move again. I didn't notice when it happened. I didn't notice anything except the need to keep striking, to erase the sound of her voice even as it kept speaking through nothing.
There were no words anymore. Only screams... mine... and wet, unintelligible noises as I continued to pummel a face that no longer existed. Her laughter threaded through it all, amused, distant, as if my rage itself was the punchline.
The ground beneath us began to give way.
A crater formed slowly, stone cracking outward in a widening circle. The roses were obliterated again and again, crushed into pulp... and yet they kept growing back, crawling up the edges of the crater, blooming around the destruction.
I kept punching.
Bam.
The sound echoed, muted and wrong, swallowed almost immediately by the space around us.
Shut.
Another impact. My arm moved again before the thought had finished forming.
Bam.
"Shut up."
The words slipped out of me without force, without volume, as if they were already tired.
Bom.
Shut.
Up.
Boom.
My fist came down again. And again. Each strike landed in a place that no longer resembled a face, only a suggestion of where one had once been. The roses beneath my feet trembled with every impact, their petals scattering like scraps of torn paper before slowly, stubbornly growing back into place.
Aaagg...
Buum.
I didn't know how long I'd been punching.
Time had lost its meaning. There was only motion, sound, and the dull resistance beneath my hands. When my arms finally slowed, when the last echo faded, I realized the garden around me had changed. The roses were sparse now, crushed into the earth, and at the center of it all yawned a crater where her body had been.
There was no form left.
Only dark liquid, thick and still, and myself standing over it, staring at what remained.
I knew, with a distant certainty, that she wasn't dead.
This wasn't an ending. It was a pause.
What unsettled me more was something else entirely.
I had only killed for the first time.
I wasn't naive. I knew I just only begun to kill.
It was the first time, even though I knew she wasn't actually dead, but it felt like it, so isn't it just the same as actually killing?
And I had liked it.
Not in the way stories described... no righteous satisfaction, no cathartic emptiness. Punching her hadn't hollowed me out. It hadn't left me numb.
It had been so, so sweet.
The realization settled over me slowly, like a thin layer of frost. The sense of liberation that followed was intoxicating, warm and dangerous, and beneath it stirred a quiet fear of what I was becoming. I didn't recoil from that fear. I simply noted it, distantly, as if it belonged to someone else.
I stared blankly at the crater as thoughts began to swirl... hatred, regret, fear... none of them loud, none of them coherent. They drifted past one another without order, exhausting themselves.
As my attention wandered, something moved.
The dark liquid at my feet began to stir, quietly. It crept forward, brushing against my boots, then climbing higher. I noticed it only when the cold seeped in.
I tried to pull away.
I didn't.
Not because I couldn't.
Because I didn't want to.
The will wasn't there. The hope required to resist simply... wasn't.
The darkness rose steadily, swallowing my legs first, then my knees. It continued upward, unhurried, past my thighs and waist, wrapping around my torso like a second skin. By the time it reached my chest, resistance had become meaningless.
My arms followed. Then my hands.
Even my fingers disappeared into the void.
When it reached my face, there was no panic. No scream. Only a quiet acknowledgment as the last remnants of sensation faded. My hair was the last to change... the red tips I'd never noticed darkening now fully consumed, drained of light until nothing remained but shadow.
My eyes, once silver, dimmed to black.
Even my face was gone now, swallowed whole by the darkness.
At that moment, I understood why she had let me do it. Why she hadn't resisted. Why she had endured every strike without lifting a hand in response.
She wanted me to rage.
She wanted me to hate.
She wanted me to fill myself with those dark emotions until there was nothing else left.
And after that, she would take over.
She would remain as the only presence. And I... the girl named Ruby... would fade away, quietly and completely, until only the evil god D existed in my place.
The realization settled slowly. Not like panic, not like pain, but like cold ash drifting down after a fire has burned itself out. Around us, the ruined garden lay still... crushed roses half regrown at the edges of the crater, petals darkened by shadow, the air heavy and unmoving. Nothing rushed through me, nothing inside me demanded action.
As I thought about it, my despair rose, steady and unavoidable. My fear was vast, but muted, pressing down rather than tearing through me. I tried to move, more out of habit than hope. My body didn't respond. I tried to will it again, calmly this time, and failed just as completely.
Even if I wanted to move, I couldn't.
After all I was already swallowed whole by the darkness.
I am no longer Ruby, I am already the END.