I was dreaming about my first loss. I remember how helpless I felt when I was defeated by him, and how angry I was with myself for not trying hard enough. Before that moment, I never understood why strength was important. But that loss taught me why people seek strength and why they are willing to fight for it.
That was the last time I ever lost to someone. In the end, however, I still died. Even though it was my own decision, the result was the same—I died.
That was what I believed. But some mother fuc*ker took my soul.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself inside a box. It was not an ordinary box. Strange colors were glowing around me. A person was standing in front of me. He was smiling, and he seemed happy, which felt strange because everything around us was burning. Dead bodies were scattered across the ground, and even his own body was badly injured.
I looked at him, and he looked back at me, still smiling. After a moment, he finally spoke.
"Hey, otherworldly person. I know you have many questions, but as you can see, we don't have much time. I'm going to die soon. I have a request. I don't know if you understand me, but you must fulfill it."
I could hear the desperation in his voice.
"I saved your life and gave you a new one. In return, you must save her. Remember, the life you have now is owed to me."
I never asked for that, I thought.
Someone was standing behind him—a woman carrying an unconscious child. She looked at him, then at me. The man took the child from her. I couldn't understand the emotion on his face; it felt like a mix of love and something else.
He placed the child inside the box beside me.
The air around us changed, filled with a quiet killing intent. Before it could grow stronger, the box closed. The colors inside began to glow brighter, and suddenly, we were moved to a different place.