The world didn't break. It shattered. Images flooded his mind. Not memories. Not imagination. Something he had already seen.
[ A tall building.
A man stood at the edge. His face refused to stay clear.
Every time Zekai tried focusing on it, the features shifted slightly, as if reality itself refused to let him identify the man completely.
Below the building—bodies. Dozens. Maybe more.
Then came the smell of heavy blood. Metallic.
Not just a scent pressure.
The atmosphere itself felt soaked with death.
Zekai's chest tightened sharply.
The man smiled. Not proudly. As if recongizing something. Like he had finally reached the only outcome that mattered.
'What did he accomplish…?'
'Why did he have that expression?'
Not relief from victory. Relief—like something had finally ended.
Somewhere below, faint screams echoed upward. Distant. But real.
In the man's hand—The Fool card.
'What is this vision…?'
Zekai tried to move. His body refused to respond.
"Why can't I move…?"
His heartbeat didn't race It skipped. Like something else had taken control over whether it continued or not.
Then suddenly—
Zekai screamed. Something pushed violently against his ribs from the inside. Not pain.
Not fear.
Something forcing its way through him. Like his body had never been designed to contain what he was witnessing.
Understanding arrived too late. This wasn't a test. It was acceptance.
Not acceptance of power. Acceptance of consequence. Something had chosen him long before he ever touched the card.
This moment was simply him realizing it too late.
Then the man's face sharpened slightly.
Only his eyes became clear. Nothing else stayed stable but those eyes locked onto Zekai with terrifying precision.
Like he had been watching him for a very long time.
There was no hesitation in that gaze. No doubt. Only certainty. Then the man pointed directly at him.
Not casually. Deliberately. Like he was marking him.
Like he was saying—
"You're next."
"What… is this…?" Zekai whispered shakily.
For a moment, pity crossed the man's expression. Not kindness.
The kind of pity reserved for someone already beyond saving.
Then—he flicked The Fool card upward. The card flew directly into Zekai's chest.
"—Soon… you're going to—"
The rest of the sentence shattered before reaching him.
"—!"
Pain exploded through him. Not surface pain.
Something deeper. Something beneath flesh.
Like reality itself had forced something into the core of him.
His blood surged violently in opposite directions at once.
His heartbeat staggered. Stopped. Started again. Like something else had grabbed control over it.
"Ah—!!"
Every vein in his body burned. Not heat—
pressure. Something moved through his bloodstream like it was searching, spreading, rewriting.
"What the hell is this—?!"
Zekai instinctively grabbed his chest. He could feel it. Not like an object.
Like a presence. Something alive. Embedded inside him.
"Get out—!"
Without hesitation, he forced his fingers into his own chest.
Not tearing flesh—reaching through something deeper. Unbearable sharp pain surged instantly.
But he didn't stop. Even if it destroyed him—he had to pull it out.
Then—his fingers closed around something.
The card still there and still glowing.
Zekai pulled violently.
"—!!"
The card resisted. Not physically. Like it had already decided it belonged there.
His entire body trembled as he forced it free and dragged it back into his hand.
The moment it left—the pain didn't stop.
It spread further. His breathing shattered completely. Each breath came too late. Too shallow.
"Is… this all I can do…?"
For the first time—doubt slipped into his voice.
"Or…"
"Is this just another illusion…?"
But no. This wasn't a dream. The heat in his blood. The tremor in his hands.
The crushing pressure inside his chest. All of it was real.
Too real. The Fool card pulsed faintly in his palm again. Not attacking. Waiting.
Like it had already accomplished what it wanted.
Even after all this—Zekai still hadn't died. That alone gave him a small, bitter sense of relief.
But his mind still trembled.
"…Why?"
His voice came out strained.
"…No."
"That's wrong."
"Why was I already part of this?" No answer came.
"...When did I agree to this?"
Then—before he even finished the question—
the truth surfaced on its own.
He already had agreed. Long ago. Silence followed.
Only one feeling remained. This had never been random. And it had never been temporary.
Suddenly—Zekai's body jerked violently. The floor vanished beneath him. He wasn't falling. He was being pulled.
His vision fractured apart. Then the world folded inward—collapsing toward a single point. Not around him.
Because he was the center.
---
Somewhere else—
[ BREAKING REPORT ]
"Authorities confirm that 43 individuals have gone missing near Greyhaven intersection."
"No signs of struggle… no witnesses… no explanation."
"Officials are calling it an unexplained disappearance."
— Footage cuts.
A phone recording shows an empty street.
Completely silent. Too silent.
Then the video footage glitches. For a single frame—Something flickers. Then the screen cuts to black.
And ends.
— Unknown Location —
A screen flickered to life.
No frame. No edges.
Just a thin plane of light floating in the air.
A man sat at the table and in front of it, his face partially obscured—two fingers resting lightly against his temple, as if focusing on something only he could see.
On the surface of the device, data shifted rapidly.
«[ CONNECTION ATTEMPTING… ]
Target: HELMITH
Status: UNREACHABLE»
A faint distortion pulsed across the display.
The signal didn't fail.
It… slipped.
The interface recalibrated.
«[ TRACKING SIGNAL DETECTED ]
Source: Unknown
Layer: Unregistered»
For a brief moment, the screen fractured—like glass under pressure.
Then new data forced its way through.
«[ LOCATION: — ERROR — ]
Spatial Anchor: LOST
Reality Layer: COLLAPSED
Coordinate State: NON-EXISTENT»
The man's fingers tightened slightly.
The call attempt repeated automatically.
«[ RETRYING… ]»
Silence.
No response.
The screen flickered again—
and for a fraction of a second—
a blurred figure appeared within the distortion.
Standing.
Still.
Watching.
The feed cut instantly.
The screen dimmed.
"...Too late," the man murmured.
— Static —
End of chapter 9 - The Man