The serpent came at him again.
It cut through the red-tinted air like a living spear, long body rippling, red scales gleaming like wet metal under a furnace light. Its golden eyes burned with hunger—or whatever passed for hunger in this nightmare realm.
Alex's lungs still burned from the last hit. His legs ached. Every breath tasted like static.
But his eyes—
His eyes were glowing again.
Pale blue light flickered faintly from his irises, as if someone had lit candles behind them.
"Come on then," he muttered, lifting his hand. "Round… whatever this is."
The serpent lunged.
Alex slid one foot back and thrust his hand forward.
The air in front of him warped.
A cold wind rushed out of nowhere, swirling in a tight spiral. It gathered dust and red motes of energy as it spun—then a shape formed inside it.
First one—
Then another.
Two pale figures stepped out of the twisting air, like people emerging from a thick fog.
They were not fully human.
Their bodies were translucent, bluish-white, with hollow eyes that glowed dimly. Each had a long cloak-like shroud draped from shoulders to feet, rippling even though there was no wind. Their hands were elongated, fingers masking into long, sharp claws of spectral light.
Souls.
Two independent souls.
Alex had managed to pull them out of that strange space inside his chest—a place he was slowly realizing wasn't just "power," but some kind of storage.
"Go!" he shouted.
The snake's fanged head crashed toward him.
Both summoned souls moved at once.
They didn't run.
They glided, shooting forward like thrown knives.
The first soul slammed into the serpent's snout, claws digging into glowing scales. The contact burned faintly blue against the red. The serpent jerked sideways, forced to redirect its momentum.
The second soul dove low, gripping the underside of its neck, leaving streaks of cold light in its wake.
A hiss of pain—or rage—rippled through the serpent's body.
Alex took the chance. He moved—fast, feet slamming against the hard stone of the floating island beneath him. He jumped backward, landing on a narrow platform just as the serpent flailed.
The monster whipped its head, flinging one soul off in a violent twist. The soul flew through the air and dispersed into fog for a moment—only to reform again a little distance away, still intact, though weaker.
The serpent snapped its jaws at the second soul attached to its throat. It caught the ghostly figure in its fangs and bit down. Light scattered from the soul's body in a flash.
The soul shrieked soundlessly as half its form was torn away. It fell back, collapsing into wisps of pale mist before regathering, smaller and flickering.
Alex felt it in his bones.
The damage.
A chill seeped through his chest, like someone had punched his heart made of ice.
"Gh—" He stumbled, hand flying to his sternum. "So that's… connected, huh?"
The souls weren't just weapons. They were extensions of him.
The serpent turned its full attention back to Alex now, ignoring the fading spirit-claws floating near it. Its eyes narrowed with red intent. Its body curled into an S-shape, ready to strike again.
"Okay," Alex gasped, straightening. "Two souls… not enough."
The serpent struck.
This time, Alex wasn't fast enough.
He dodged left—
But the serpent didn't only rely on its fanged head. Its tail snapped around from the opposite side, a massive whip of red-scale muscle.
It slammed into Alex's right shoulder like a club.
Pain exploded through him.
"AAAGH—!"
He was flung off the island.
The sky spun—red streaks, floating rocks, distant fragments of lightning—until his body slammed into another small platform below, rolling hard. He slid to the edge, fingers clawing at the stone just in time to stop himself from spilling into the void.
He lay there, chest heaving, face pressed to the cold surface.
His shoulder screamed. Something was wrong with the angle of his arm—it burned with a deep, crunchy pain that made bile rise up his throat.
He pushed himself up against a jagged stone jutting from the broken platform. The rock formed a sort of corner on the edge of the floating island—a place to hide, small as it was.
The serpent hovered above him now, circling slowly, its long body weaving between floating islands, graceful and cruel.
Blood ran down Alex's upper arm from an open gash where a part of the tail's scale edge had sliced through skin. The wound was shallow, but it hurt like hell, and his arm felt heavy.
He gritted his teeth.
"Think," he hissed to himself. "Think, think, think."
The two souls he'd conjured hovered weakly nearby, their forms shaky, their light dim. They floated like exhausted phantoms, waiting for his next command.
His mind drifted, desperate and frantic.
You're a Soul Harvester, Arte's voice echoed in his memory. You don't just see souls. You take them. You judge them. You use them.
Not just random spirit-stuff, then.
Actual souls.
He thought of the Reptile Gang.
Of the alley. Of the knife in his ribs. Of the blade at his throat. Of the moment when everything went hot and numb at the same time. Of the way the world suddenly became quiet.
Then their bodies, floating—
No.
Not floating.
Suspended.
He remembered it clearly now.
Their bodies had hung in the air, eyes wide with terror.
And then white light had been pulled out from their chests—twisted, stretched, screaming silently as it exited. It had flowed into him. Into his burning veins. Into his chest, sinking deep like trapped breath.
His mind snapped back to this realm.
"What if…" he panted. "What if they're still in there…?"
The serpent dipped closer, its huge head nearly level with him now, one golden eye staring like a sun through smoke.
He ducked lower in the stone corner, shoulder throbbing, mind racing.
If this place was his trial, his inner realm—if those earlier souls he'd summoned were just basic shapes—then…
The Reptile Gang.
He had their souls too.
Somewhere.
Buried inside that cold, strange place within him.
"Souls I've taken," he whispered. "Souls I've judged."
He swallowed, throat tight.
He'd killed them. Whether they were awful people or not, whether cannibals or monsters, it didn't change the fact: he had killed them.
That truth stung.
But right now…
…he didn't have the luxury to break down over it.
The serpent hissed and pulled back, charging another strike.
Alex squeezed his eyes shut.
He sank inward—not physically, but with that strange second sense that he had only just begun to understand.
He searched inside himself.
Past the burning pain. Past the racing heart. Past the shallow ache of his fresh wound. Past the shimmer of those two basic souls hovering like weak ghosts in the periphery of his awareness.
He pushed deeper, down into that bone-cold well of power.
And there he felt it.
Something dense.Heavier than the generic souls.Knotted. Twisted. Angry and afraid at the same time.
Not one.
Several.
He reached toward that cluster.
Instantly, images flashed in his head—
A man with reptilian scales on his face, mouth wide in a silent scream.
Hands with sharp nails grabbing at him.
Blood. Fear. Chaos. Knives.
He flinched but didn't pull away. His fingers—these weird, ghost-touch mental fingers—grasped that knot of souls and yanked.
"Come on," he hissed aloud. "You wanted to hunt me, didn't you? Then MOVE."
The serpent struck.
Alex snapped his eyes open and threw his uninjured hand out to the side, palm open.
The air ripped in front of him.
Not gently.Not smoothly.
A jagged, vertical line appeared—like a crack torn into reality. It widened, edges glowing pale blue as something inside forced its way out.
Pressure hit his chest like a punch.
He groaned, teeth grinding.
The serpent's head shattered the stone edge where he had been a second before. Alex rolled, half-falling, dragging his injured arm with a grunt of pain as rock exploded and dust flared.
The snake missed him—but barely.
Its body crashed past, angered by the failed strike. It looped back instantly, rising again in a wide circle to coil around the cluster of islands.
Alex scrambled up, back pressed to the remaining part of the rock corner, chest heaving.
The tear in the air finished ripping open.
Shapes spilled out.
Not mist this time.
Not pale, faceless spirits.
They fell forward, landing on the stone with soft thuds that somehow echoed.
At first, they looked like silhouettes—solid shadows in the rough outline of human bodies. Then their forms sharpened, filled with blue-white light, gaining features.
Four figures.
No, five.
Ghosts.
But not generic and smooth.
They had faces. Expressions.
Scales.
Their skin was pale and translucent, but patches of spectral reptile scales gleamed along their arms, throats, and jaws—faint copies of the mutations they had carried in life. Their eyes shone with hollow light, but there was something else in there too: a faint echo of the cruel smiles they once wore.
Their mouths opened.
No sound came out.
Yet Alex heard them—in his head, in his chest, in the cold part of his power.
Fear. Rage. Hunger. Confusion.
He almost staggered under it.
He forced his spine straight and glared at them.
"You're dead," he said hoarsely. "You tried to turn me into food. Guess who gets to use who now."
The Reptile Gang's souls turned their hollow eyes toward him. One lifted its head more than the others, its scaled spectral jaw twitching as if remembering speech.
Alex thrust his hand out, fingers crooked like claws of his own.
A mark—faint and ring-like—burned into the air between him and them.
"YOU. BELONG. TO ME."
The mark flared.
It locked around their spectral chests like ghostly chains.
The souls jerked.
They moved forward. Not willingly—not exactly—but not fully resisting either. Their connection to him solidified, forming invisible threads linking his core to theirs.
The serpent finished its wide arc and readied another lunge. Lightning began to crackle faintly between the islands, a static tension building in the realm.
Alex's shoulder throbbed. Blood slid down his arm in warm, sticky lines.
He ignored it.
He lifted his hand again, feeling the pull, the weight, the unnatural pressure of holding not just two simple souls—
—but seven.
Two basic.Five Reptile.
His veins felt like they were filled with ice.
His breath hitched.
His heart rattled.
But he didn't let go.
"Move…" he commanded.
The Reptile souls turned away from him as one, their new master sealed. Their translucent bodies lowered slightly, as if bracing to leap.
The serpent's body coiled, tension rippling along its long spine.
Alex grit his teeth, forcing the flood of sensations into one direction.
Forward.
The serpent lunged.
Alex's eyes blazed bright blue.
And the souls of the Reptile Gang—
those he had killed with his own awakened power, those he had once feared—
answered his call.
The serpent lunged—
a blazing red spear tearing through the crimson sky.
Alex lifted his hand.
"GO!"
The five Reptile Gang souls shot forward.
They didn't glide like the earlier simple spirits.
They charged — bodies low, clawed hands stretched, reptilian echoes twisting along their arms. Their movements were twitchy, fast, feral, like ghosts of predators brought back from the brink.
The serpent's jaws split wide, fangs glowing with lightning. It aimed for Alex first—always for Alex.
But it never reached him.
Because the first soul slammed into the serpent's face.
Not a clean hit—
a savage one.
It snapped its ghostly jaws around the serpent's snout, clinging like a starving animal. The second and third leapt onto its neck, claws digging inside glowing scales. The fourth grabbed the underside of its jaw. The fifth clung to its mid-body, dragging itself upward in jerky, rage-filled motions.
The serpent's scream—silent but vibrating the entire realm—shook Alex's bones.
Lightning exploded from its scales, bursts of golden energy ripping through the sky. Two souls were thrown off immediately, their spectral bodies flickering, reforming, then returning with a hiss of cold energy.
The serpent twisted violently, its massive body convulsing in a spiral. Alex staggered from the force of the shockwave as one of the Reptile souls was smashed into a floating island, shattering the rock in half.
But the souls did not stop.
They came back—ruthless, angry, unbound.
Alex felt their hunger, their hatred, their instinctive violence pulsing through him in faint echoes. His breath came in sharp gasps. His shoulder throbbed with deep pain. His injured arm hung uselessly, warm blood dripping from torn skin.
The serpent tried to retreat upward—
"NO YOU DON'T!" Alex shouted, voice cracking.
He thrust out both hands.
The two earlier souls—the simple ones—appeared at his sides, flickering blue and thin, but loyal. They grabbed the serpent's lower coils, ghostly claws digging into its scales, anchoring it down.
The serpent reared back, preparing another blast of lightning.
Alex felt it building.
His skin prickled.
The air buzzed.
It would wipe out all his souls if it hit head-on.
"MOVE!" he shouted to them all.
But the Reptile Gang souls didn't retreat.
They did the opposite.
They climbed higher—
onto the serpent's head.
Claws sank into glowing flesh.
One soul hooked its hand onto the serpent's empty eye socket.
Another wrapped both arms around its upper jaw and pulled with unnatural strength.
Alex gasped as the serpent's energy surged.
It unleashed the blast.
Lightning exploded outward in a column of gold—violent, blinding.
The two simple souls disintegrated instantly, scattering like blue dust.
Two Reptile souls were vaporized mid-climb.
Alex felt it—pain lanced through his chest like a shard of ice. His knees buckled. He almost collapsed.
But three remained.
And those three didn't let go.
The lightning blast faded.
The serpent's head dipped, exhausted from expelling so much of its core energy at once. Its scales flickered, some dimming. Its movements slowed for the first time.
Alex forced himself to stand.
He raised his uninjured hand.
Ghost-light swirled around him, gathering in ripples like water lifting from an invisible ocean.
The three remaining Reptile souls responded—they pulsed brighter, their hollow eyes narrowing.
"PULL!" Alex yelled.
The souls attacked the serpent's head—
Not wild, not chaotic now—
But coordinated.
The first soul clamped onto the serpent's jaw, locking it down.
The second wrapped around its neck from behind.
The third braced its feet against the serpent's fanged snout and dug its claws into the top of the skull.
Alex dragged his hand downward in a slicing motion.
The souls followed.
They dragged the serpent's head forward—hard.
The massive monster slammed into a floating island with a thunderous shock that cracked the stone apart. Dust and fragments burst into the air, raining into the void.
Before the serpent could recoil, Alex moved.
He sprinted.
Pain shot through his ribs with every step. His right arm swung uselessly, but he kept going. He leapt across the broken pieces of the island, boots slipping on loose debris.
The serpent lifted its head—
Just enough to strike.
Alex didn't stop.
He jumped—
pushed off a falling slab of rock—
and soared toward its face.
His hand glowed blue.
His fingers curled into a spectral claw.
He slammed his hand into the serpent's glowing eye socket—a place already cracked from the griffin's earlier strike.
"GRAAAAAHHH!"
Light burst outward in a violent shock.
Not lightning—
but something deeper.
A tearing force.
Alex felt another surge, like a vacuum forming in his chest.
The serpent convulsed.
The remaining three souls clamped harder, holding the monster down while Alex reached into that cold place within him—
—and pulled.
A scream tore through his mind.
The serpent's body spasmed, coils flaring outward in frantic loops.
A bright white stream began to escape its skull—
not electricity
not light
but soul.
A soul made of storm and ancient power.
Alex gritted his teeth, muscles trembling, arm shaking violently.
"COME—OUT—!!"
The stream thickened, ripping itself free like molten metal drawn from a furnace. The serpent fought, coiling, thrashing, but the souls held it down.
Alex pulled harder.
The serpent let out one final silent scream—
And its soul tore free.
A colossal burst of white energy shot into Alex's chest, slamming him backward. He hit the back edge of another floating chunk of stone, sliding down as the shockwave knocked the remaining souls into fading wisps.
The serpent collapsed.
Its body twisted in one last arc, then cracked into segments of light.
It dissolved—
piece by piece—
into falling shards of golden dust.
The floating island trembled.
Alex lay there, gasping, his chest burning, his arm numb, his breath shaking.
The final fragments of the serpent drifted down from the sky like glowing snow.
The realm around him flickered.
The sky distorted, red fading into black then back into red again. Floating islands shook. The air rumbled. The whole world was collapsing.
His trial was ending.
Alex's vision darkened at the edges.
He felt his body fall backward—
—and suddenly there was no floating island.
No serpent.
No sky.
Only water.
Cold, crushing water.
Alex's eyes snapped open.
Water filled his lungs.
Panic seized him before he could think. His arms flailed, kicking instinctively as bubbles escaped his mouth.
Ngh—!!
He tasted the cold burn of the deep pool—metallic, mineral, shockingly icy.
His wounds throbbed again, real now, grounding him.
Above him, he saw a faint shimmer—light rippling across the water surface.
Adrenaline surged through him.
He kicked harder.
Legs burning.
Chest heaving, desperate for air he couldn't inhale.
His injured shoulder screamed, but he didn't stop.
He moved upward—
upward—
upward—
The sound of water roared in his ears like a storm in a cave.
His chest felt like it was going to explode.
Black spots flickered at the edges of his vision.
"Come—on—" he thought desperately, bubbles escaping his clenched teeth. "Please—HURRY—"
He reached upward, fingers stretching—
His head broke the surface.
SPLASH—!!
Alex erupted from the water with a choking gasp, dragging in a huge breath of life and air and pain.
He coughed violently, water spilling from his mouth.
Every part of him trembled.
But he was alive.
He had survived.
Alex clung to the edge of the pool, fingers digging into the slippery stone as if it were the only thing anchoring him to life. His chest rose and fell in harsh, uneven breaths. His soaked shirt clung to him like a second, colder skin, heavy with water that dripped steadily back into the pool.
Every muscle in his body screamed in protest as he hauled himself halfway onto the ledge. His elbows trembled violently. His arms didn't feel like they belonged to him anymore.
A small shadow hopped onto a nearby rock.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Tiny paws.Soft.Smug.
Arte sat proudly—tail flicking with practiced superiority, golden eyes glowing with lazy amusement. He tilted his head, whiskers twitching as if he were examining a puzzle piece that had finally clicked into place.
"Well, well," Arte said, voice smooth and annoyingly satisfied. "You didn't disappoint."
Alex coughed hard, spitting out the last mouthful of water. "I… didn't die…"
"Not permanently," Arte replied cheerfully. "That's progress."
Alex glared through wet strands of hair sticking to his face."You threw me in."
"Yes," Arte said immediately, without a hint of shame. "And look how beautifully that turned out."
Alex groaned, dragging himself fully onto the stone. He collapsed on his back, breathing hard, staring up at the glowing blue leaves of the strange underground tree overhead. His shoulder throbbed with a dull, pulsing heat—the injury still there, but… dimmer somehow. Less sharp. More distant.
He didn't know what that meant, but his body felt lighter. Different.
Arte hopped closer, tiny paws tapping softly across the stone as he approached, still watching Alex with that infuriating, knowing expression.
"You controlled multiple souls," the cat said proudly. "And forcibly extracted the serpent's soul as well. That's quite the achievement for a newborn harvester."
Alex turned his head slowly, muscles still shaking. "You didn't warn me it would almost kill me."
"If I warned you," Arte replied flatly, "you would hesitate."
Alex opened his mouth to argue…and found nothing.
He shut it again.
The glowing cave around them—the wisteria-like tree, the shimmering light dancing across the pool, the drifting motes that floated like tiny stars—suddenly flickered.
Alex frowned. "What… was that?"
Another flicker.
This time the blue leaves dimmed sharply, losing half their radiant glow in a single heartbeat. The reflection on the water darkened with it. The soft floating motes—those tiny, magical specks—began blinking in and out of existence.
One by one…they faded.
Alex pushed himself up on shaky arms, breathing faster. "Arte. What's happening?"
The little black cat didn't move.
His tail lowered.His ears flattened just a little.His golden eyes watched the dimming cave in complete stillness—like someone watching the last seconds of something sacred.
Then Arte exhaled softly.
"It means," he said, voice gentle but heavy, "that the fish's work here is done."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Alex said, alarm rising in his voice as the water emitted a low hum—almost like a sigh.
Arte jumped off the stone and landed beside him.
"We need to leave," Arte said. "Now."
Alex got to his knees. "Why?! What's about to happen?"
Arte didn't glance back.
"Once the trial ends, this cave collapses. The fish leave. The tree sleeps. Everything closes."
The little fish—those glowing creatures that had drifted beneath the surface like tiny lanterns—were gone now. The water lay still.
Too still.
The shimmering glow at the base of the blue leaves faded completely, leaving behind only a hollow shadow where there had once been light.
A low rumble shivered through the cavern walls, like a giant exhaling somewhere deep in the earth's chest. Dust rained softly from the ceiling. The stone beneath Alex's boots vibrated with warning.
"Go," Arte urged. "Up the path, through the tunnel I opened earlier. Before the seal shuts."
Alex scrambled upright, pain sparking down his injured shoulder, but he didn't dare slow down. "What happens if it shuts while we're still in here?"
Arte didn't sugarcoat it.
"You get sealed in the dark for the next century."
Alex's face drained of color. "Great. Wonderful. No pressure."
Arte flicked his tail once—and then dashed off with shocking speed, his black body a quick blur on wet stone. Alex, dizzy but alive, forced his aching legs to move. He stumbled after the cat, boots slapping loudly as he ran.
Behind them, the last remaining fragments of light in the underground sanctuary sputtered—
flickered—
and died.
The cave began to collapse into darkness, swallowing everything behind them whole.
Alex stumbled out of the hidden tunnel and onto the gray sand, lungs dragging in long, shaky breaths. The sky above him was still the same washed-out gray, the air dry and empty—but compared to the collapsing cave behind him, it felt like freedom.
He didn't make it far.
The moment his boots touched open ground, his legs buckled. He dropped to his back with a heavy thud, arms spread across the cool sand. For several seconds he simply lay there, chest rising and falling, the exhaustion washing through him like deep waves.
Oddly…
There wasn't pain.
His shoulder didn't burn.His ribs didn't sting.Even the bruises he expected—the ones he swore were on his back—were gone.
Only fatigue remained, thick and heavy, wrapping him like a blanket made of lead.
He lifted one hand toward the sky.
Gray light filtered through his fingers. He rotated his wrist slowly—
And froze.
"…What the—?"
His arm wasn't the same.
The arm he remembered was thin, wiry, the kind of arm someone got from climbing through ruined cities and running from scavengers.
But this?
This was different.
The muscle definition was sharper—not bulky, but firm. The tendons along his wrist stood out more clearly. His forearm, usually bony, had smooth lines of muscle running along it.
He sat up fast.
Too fast.
"Whoa—!" He grabbed his head as a wave of dizziness hit him.
Arte hopped onto a chunk of gray stone beside him, tail flicking with amused satisfaction. "Careful. You're still adjusting."
Alex blinked rapidly, then looked down at himself.
His torso—always narrow and a little sunken—was now… straighter. Broader. The shape reminded him of a rectangle rather than the usual thin stick. His ribs didn't jut out sharply anymore. His shoulders looked more even.
He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt.
His upper arm had clear muscle lines.
Not huge. Not body-builder sized.
But strong.
Healthy.
"W-wait, wait—" Alex placed both hands on his torso. "Where… where are my injuries? My shoulder was torn open—I had a cut—I—what happened to my body?"
Arte yawned.
A long, slow, lazy yawn.
Then flicked his paw as if dusting the air. "Time happened."
Alex stared. "…What kind of answer is that?"
Arte hopped down and trotted closer. "The realm you were just in—the floating islands, the serpent, the castle fragments—that place doesn't follow the same flow of time as this world."
Alex frowned, one hand still gripping his arm. "So… how long was I in there?"
"For you?" Arte tilted his head. "About a week."
Alex choked. "A WEEK?!"
"In your perception, yes." Arte sat, tail curling neatly around his paws. "But in the outside world? Barely a day."
Alex felt the world tilt.
His mind raced back to everything:
The serpent swallowing him.Waking up again and again.Jumping across islands.Dying more than once—sort of.Fighting until his muscles shook and his bones felt like glass.
A week of that.
He swallowed thickly. "So being in there for that long… changed my body?"
Arte shrugged. "It shapes the soul. And your soul shapes your flesh. Especially for a Harvester."
Alex's mouth opened—then closed again.
He looked down at his body one more time. No wounds. No blood. No broken ribs. Not even a bruise.
But exhaustion still clung to him like a heavy fog.
Arte flicked an ear. "You burned through everything you had. Rest is normal. Your muscles grew because the realm forced your body to adapt to the strain of your soul's awakening."
Alex ran a hand down his face. "…And no one thought to warn me?"
Arte smirked. "If I warned you, you'd have complained."
"I'm complaining now!"
"Yes, but you survived," Arte said, matter-of-fact. "And you awakened more than just physical strength."
Alex's breath caught.
He could still feel it—deep inside his chest.
A cold, heavy core.Quiet, but powerful.The souls he had claimed.
He shivered slightly.
Arte stepped closer, nudging his calf with a paw. "Come now. You've taken your first real step."
Alex lay back again, staring at his unfamiliar, stronger arms, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or sleep for three days straight.
"…I hate training with you," he muttered.
Arte purred. "You'll hate it more tomorrow."
Alex lay there for a moment longer, trying to steady his breathing. His limbs felt like jelly, but not the broken, useless kind—more like overworked strings that needed a moment to re-tighten.
He turned his head toward Arte."…What do you mean by tomorrow?"
Arte stretched, arching his back like a lazy prince waking from a nap. "Exactly what I said. Tomorrow, we continue."
Alex's face fell. "Continue… what?"
The cat flicked his tail, eyes narrowing with that irritating, all-knowing glint."Your training, obviously. Another one-on-one session with the scorpion."
Alex jolted upright again—then winced as dizziness hit him. "Scorpion?! Again?!"
Arte looked unimpressed. "You barely survived the first time."
"I survived the snake," Alex shot back, pointing at his newly formed arm muscles as if they were proof of divine superiority. "That giant red nightmare? I beat it! I pulled its soul out! I can handle a stupid overgrown bug."
Arte blinked slowly.
Then…smiled.
Not the nice kind.The oh, you sweet little idiot kind.
"We'll see," he said simply.
Alex's confidence cracked. "…What does that mean?"
"It means," Arte said, turning away and padding across the gray sand, "you talk too much for someone who almost drowned five minutes ago."
Alex groaned. "I didn't almost drown— I— okay maybe yes but I still won!"
Arte's whiskers twitched. "Mm-hm. Very impressive. Truly. Heroic." He paused, then added far too casually, "Let's see if you still say that when the scorpion stops holding back."
Alex's breath hitched. "It was holding back?"
Arte didn't answer.
He just kept walking.
Alex watched the small black cat trot across the sand with far too much confidence for one creature, feeling a cold weight settle in his stomach.
"…I'm doomed," he muttered.
Arte called over his shoulder, "You're not doomed. Just unprepared."
"That's worse!"
"Exactly."
Alex fell back onto the sand again, exhaling loudly.
His body—newly strengthened, strangely renewed—still felt like it was made of fire and fog. His head spun. His chest still felt the echo of the serpent's soul inside it, heavy but quiet.
But Arte was right.
He needed rest.
Arte stopped beside a tall rock, sat down, and curled his tail neatly around his paws. "Sleep. Just a few hours. Then we continue."
Alex closed his eyes, feeling exhaustion pull him downward like a deep tide."…Fine. But if that scorpion kills me, I'm haunting you."
Arte purred softly. "You can try."
The world dimmed.
The sand beneath Alex felt cool.
For the first time in days—or weeks—or whatever twisted sense of time he'd lived through—
Alex allowed himself to sleep and drifted into sleep almost instantly—his breathing slowing, his shoulders finally relaxing, the tension melting from his face.
Arte sat beside him, tail curled neatly around his paws, golden eyes half-lidded.
He watched the boy sleep.
"Interesting," Arte murmured under his breath. "Very interesting."
Alex was unlike any human he had guided before—too stubborn, too reckless, too soft-hearted, too angry, too guilty…Yet somehow, impossibly alive in a world where almost nothing living remained.
Arte tilted his head slightly.
He could hear Alex's soul humming—unstable, newly awakened, still shifting like a wild storm trying to find its shape.Chaotic.Raw.Potential far beyond what Alex understood.
"Perhaps… this time, things will be different," Arte whispered.
His gaze lifted toward the sky.
There was no sun—only a thick blanket of dark clouds stretching endlessly across the horizon. A sky forever trapped in twilight, refusing both day and night.
Arte blinked once, slowly.
He knew the truth.
The sun still existed.It had not vanished.
But it would never shine again on this abandoned world.Not after the collapse.Not after the gods turned their faces away.
Only shadows remained now.Shadows and those left behind.
Arte's ears twitched at a faint rumble far in the distance—something shifting across the dead plains, something not human. But the sound faded, and he made no move to wake Alex.
Not yet.
He looked back at the sleeping boy, whose chest rose and fell with a stubborn rhythm.
"You," Arte said quietly, "might be the last spark this world gets."
He settled beside Alex, curling into a neat black ball of fur.
Above them, the sky remained dark and silent—unmoving, unchanging,a heavy lid over a world that had long forgotten the meaning of sunlight.