The night air outside the Central Archive felt far heavier than when we entered. As if our steps leaving that room didn't pull us away from problems—but dragged us deeper into them.
Lyona walked beside me, her hand still gripping her sword. She kept glancing at me, as if afraid I would vanish or change along the way.
"Makoto," she said softly. "What did he… actually say?"
I didn't answer right away.
Because the answer itself felt like a nightmare clinging to my skin.
The Main God wanted me to choose.
Erase Marchaos.
Or become him.
But there was another part of that conversation that kept echoing in my head.
The part I didn't tell Lyona.
Marchaos's voice at the end—
'Don't trust him.'
That part kept gnawing.
But every time I tried to think about his words… there was a burning pain stabbing my forehead, as if something was forcing my mind in another direction.
Like a whisper.
"He wants your body."
I jolted.
"Makoto?" Lyona stopped. "You're pale."
"No… it's fine."
I forced a smile. "Just still dizzy."
But it wasn't true.
My eyes throbbed.
My throat dried.
And beneath the sound of night crickets, there was another voice only I could hear.
"Marchaos awaits you.
He will take your future.
If you don't erase him… he will become you."
I stopped.
My heartbeat raced.
That voice—cold, flat, logical.
It wasn't Marchaos.
But it also… wasn't my own.
It was like an echo from the conversation with the Main God earlier.
Lyona touched my shoulder. "Makoto. You're sweating."
I wiped my face with trembling hands.
Something was wrong.
Something had entered my mind.
Yet every time I tried to doubt that voice, a strange pressure hit my head.
And slowly… I began to believe it.
---
We arrived at Mosslane Inn.
But before entering the room, I stopped and gripped the door handle.
Lyona looked at me. "What is it?"
"Lyona…" I swallowed, "…if I told you Marchaos really does want to take my body… would you believe me?"
Lyona froze.
Her expression turned serious, but not because she believed—because she was shocked.
"Makoto. Why would you suddenly—"
"I saw it."
My voice strained. "Inside the circle. His eyes. The way he looked at me. He—"
No.
That wasn't what I saw.
All I saw was Marchaos silent, still, turning slowly.
Without threat.
Without aggression.
But the voice in my head replayed that moment… differently.
'He is copying you.
He wants your place.
He wants your life.'
Lyona gripped my shoulders tighter.
"Makoto."
Her breath was tense.
"You said it yourself earlier… Marchaos warned you."
I closed my eyes.
Yes.
He did say: Don't trust him.
But that voice—the new whisper—immediately forced its way inside:
"That is his trick.
He wants you unsure.
He wants to erase you."
I felt myself waver.
Two voices.
Two Makotos.
Two truths.
And one whisper growing dominant.
"Lyona…"
My voice cracked softly.
"I might… really need to erase him."
Lyona cupped my cheeks, forcing me to look at her.
"Makoto, listen to me."
Her voice sharp, piercing.
"Since when do you talk like someone who isn't you?"
I wanted to answer—truly—but my lips froze.
Because suddenly…
Lyona changed.
Not her face.
Not her body.
Her shadow.
Lyona's shadow—cast on the floor from the lamp—stretched, twisted, and shifted shape.
Eyes appeared within that shadow.
Red eyes.
Marchaos's eyes.
I took a step back. "No… no way…"
Lyona startled. "Makoto?!"
The shadow smiled.
"I will take your body."
I fell to the floor, breath locked.
"Makoto!" Lyona grabbed my hand, confused. "What did you see?!"
"I-I…"
I looked at the shadow again.
It was normal.
No eyes.
No smile.
Nothing.
I shivered.
Lyona cupped my face again.
"Makoto… you just saw something, didn't you?"
I looked down.
And for the first time…
I wasn't afraid of Marchaos.
I was afraid of my own mind.
---
We entered the room. Lyona lit the oil lamp brighter. She sat beside me at the edge of the bed, her face full of worry.
"Makoto… something is bothering you after talking with the God. Not Marchaos."
She held my hand. "You're doubting everything. Even yourself."
I didn't answer.
Because in my head, the voice whispered again—louder.
"She will betray you too.
Your only chance is one.
Kill Marchaos."
I clenched my teeth.
"Get out…" I whispered faintly.
The voice replied.
"I am part of you."
"No…" I pressed my head. "You're not me…"
"I am the true voice."
No.
No.
"Makoto?!" Lyona shook my shoulders.
And the whisper struck its final blow:
"If you don't act… Lyona will die by Marchaos's hand."
My chest froze.
My hand tightened on its own.
Without me realising it…
the Main God had hung a leash around my mind.
And slowly…
I began believing the lie.
No one knew.
Not Lyona.
Not Marchaos.
Not even myself.
Only the God smiled
behind the cracks of the world.