Everything happened in a blur, yet one truth stood immovable: Frank had undergone a profound transformation in body, mind, and spirit. Even the world around him seemed altered, reshaped by forces beyond comprehension.
He was no longer shackled by unnecessary, invisible, imaginary bonds that had once weighed him down like chains of smoke. The sky, once an unsettling shade of purple, now stretched above him in a calm, ordinary blue, vast and welcoming.
Vegetation surrounded him in abundance, whispering with life, and the air carried a freshness that spoke of renewal. It took only a fleeting moment for Frank to realize where he stood—he was in a forest, a place brimming with quiet mystery, where every leaf and shadow seemed to echo his rebirth.
Frank had grown accustomed to the world shifting in rapid, unpredictable directions, often bending into strange realities he could never foresee. Yet the sensation coursing through him now was entirely new, unsettling in its rawness.
For the first time, he felt truly and utterly alone, stripped of familiar anchors. The individual who had first drawn him into Darkovia, unveiling its mysteries and guiding him through its labyrinth of wonders, was nowhere to be found.
His new master and commanding figure, Cord, remained far away in the bustling city of New Darkovia—likely pacing with worry, questioning Frank's whereabouts, and wondering whether the mission entrusted to him had been fulfilled.The silence of the forest pressed in, amplifying his solitude, and every rustle of leaves seemed to remind him of the absence of those who once gave him purpose.
However, that was only one of the reasons Frank felt so strangely different. Another, far more profound, was the sudden lightness in his soul, as though a massive burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
He had not realized until now that he had unknowingly grown accustomed to living his life on a relentless countdown, each moment ticking away like sand through an hourglass.
For the better part of his stay in the Land of the Soul Beings, he had been cursed—a debilitating affliction that drained his vitality at a rapid pace, gnawing at his essence with merciless hunger. Now, with that curse seemingly broken, Frank felt a rare clarity, a freedom that shimmered in his veins, and for the first time in ages, he could breathe without the shadow of death looming over him.
Though the curse was undeniably debilitating, it was not as merciless as Frank had once believed. True, it placed his remaining moments on a dangerous cooldown, forcing him to live with the constant awareness of time slipping away.
Yet paradoxically, it also granted him strength—an uncanny power that allowed him to rise above immense foes and emerge victorious. It sharpened his instincts, compelled him to execute strategies with precision, and inspired theories that ensured his survival in a world where the living dead roamed freely.
In Darkovia, even the very breath drawn into one's lungs carried the essence of death, and yet Frank had endured, wielding the curse as both a burden and a weapon, a paradoxical gift that pushed him to keep himself alive against impossible odds.
Finally, the last reason Frank felt so strange was that he could hardly believe he had truly won. Against all odds, he had defeated the curse that had haunted him, and now he was free—completely rid of its suffocating grip.
His life, once measured in dwindling fragments, now gleamed at a complete 100/100, whole and unbroken. The system that had long tormented him with a depreciating symbol beside his health status no longer bore that ominous mark.
Instead, it reflected vitality, strength, and renewal. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Frank's existence was not defined by decay but by possibility, and the realization filled him with both disbelief and a quiet, overwhelming joy.
Finally, there was no longer any cause for fear. Frank carried no overwhelming problems, no curse ticking away like a merciless countdown toward death. For the first time, he could navigate his life freely, unshackled, with no one dictating his every move and no fate controlled by hostile circumstances.
He was no longer the fragile, uncertain soul being who had stumbled into New Darkovia months ago. Although the system displayed a modest level 3 beside his name, Frank knew he had grown far beyond numbers.
He understood the nature of soul beings, the source of their strength—the enigmatic purple substance—and had mastered fighting techniques and survival skills that once seemed impossible. Compared to the complete novice he had been only a month and a few days earlier, he now carried knowledge, resilience, and confidence. All that remained was to uncover the mystery of his current location, to understand where destiny had carried him next.
All Frank truly knew was how he had arrived here. In a moment of desperation, he had impulsively reached for a strange device when he found himself surrounded by a cluster of soul beings and stern officials.
Their presence was unmistakable—they had come to demand answers, to confront him about why he had recklessly smashed through toward the massive container of life energy. Panic surged through him, paranoia clouding his thoughts, and the instinctive desire not to be captured burned fiercely within his chest.
With trembling hands, he tapped a few buttons on the device, each press echoing like a gamble with fate. He hoped, almost feverishly, that this mysterious artifact would serve as his salvation, a fragile lifeline in a world where every choice carried the weight of survival.
Looking closely at the structure of the device, Frank noticed it was circular in shape, resembling a discus ball, yet with an uncanny twist. Its front featured something that looked strikingly like a camera lens, giving it the eerie appearance of a CCTV camera watching silently.
What unsettled him most, however, were the four medium‑sized white buttons positioned at the top, left, right, and bottom edges of the device's surface, forming a strange symmetrical pattern. While the front carried the eye‑like lens, the back revealed a single, ominous red button—larger than the rest, glowing faintly as though it held the power to trigger something monumental.
The device radiated mystery, its design both simple and unnerving, and Frank could not shake the feeling that it was more than it appeared, a tool forged for purposes far beyond his understanding.
At first, Frank questioned his own judgment—why on earth had he grabbed something that looked like a CCTV camera instead of a weapon? A sword, staff, dagger, or even a shield would have made far more sense, something tangible he could wield to protect himself.
The strange, unseeming device in his hands felt useless, and he wondered what possible purpose it could serve. Yet, driven by desperation, he tapped a few of its buttons, his heart pounding with uncertainty.
Suddenly, the device began to emit a sharp, rhythmic beeping. Hearing the sound, Frank's despair gave way to a surge of joy. Relief washed over him as he realized the object was not a mere camera after all—it had hidden potential. In his mind, there was only one explanation: this was no surveillance tool, but a bomb, a weapon of last resort that might just save him from capture