Ansel's mind raced with questions. How long has Fayfiend been inside her? What had she experienced during that time? And most importantly, how would this possession change her life from now on?
When that girl was possessed by a Fayfiend, her heart and mind were completely overtaken by a force beyond her control. It was as if her quintessence had been eclipsed by a shadow that consumed every thought, every feeling.
She had no memory of what transpired during those moments when her body was commandeered. Even when she regained consciousness, a vague sense of something wrong lingered. But the details of moments eluded her.
She was haunted by a profound disconnect. She knew something had happened, yet she could not claim responsibility for the chaos that had unfolded. It was as if a stranger had acted through her, leaving behind a trail of destruction she could neither understand nor accept.
Meanwhile, Ansel's body was a battlefield of pain and exhaustion. The burning sensation that coursed through his flesh was relentless. A fiery torment that seemed to consume him from within.
Blood loss was severe. Each heartbeat pounded like a drum in his skull, intensifying the headache that threatened to shatter his resolve. His limbs trembled. His muscles weakened. And standing upright became a monumental effort.
Yet, despite the overwhelming agony, Ansel fought to hold himself together. He refused to surrender to the darkness creeping at the edges of his consciousness.
However, the human body has limits. And Ansel had reached the limits. The dizziness swirled like a tempest. It blurred his vision until the world around him dissolved into indistinct shapes and shadows.
His eyelids grew heavy, and the effort to keep them open became unbearable. With a final, desperate will, he closed his eyes.
In that instant. Thus, everything went completely dark.
No light pierced the void. No shapes emerged from the blackness. It was an abyss so profound that even his desperate search for a glimmer of hope seemed futile.
Yet, within that suffocating darkness, a small flame of determination flickered. Ansel refused to give in. He told himself that somewhere beyond this void.
***
Ansel slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the soft, dappled light filtering through a dense canopy of towering trees.
The air was thick with the scent of soil and leaves. The gentle rustling of branches whispered secrets he could not yet understand. He stood up, confusion swirling in his mind.
He wondered aloud, his voice barely a whisper. "Where is it? Is this in the forest? Is this a dream or a vision?"
For Ansel, the line between dreams and reality had always been blurred. Every dream he had ever experienced seemed to ripple forward into the waking world. For him, a dream was never just a dream, it was a vision, a glimpse into what might come.
As he looked down, realizing he was clutching something cold and solid, a sword.
The blade gleamed faintly in the filtered sunlight. Its surface was etched with intricate runes that seemed to pulse with a life of their own.
The name echoed in his mind: Viorenving.
He murmured, his fingers tightening around the hilt. "Viorenving? Am I going to fight?"
Suddenly, the sword shifted in his grasp. It moved as if it had a will separate from his own.
Ansel's breath caught in his throat. "What is it?"
Fear prickled at his skin. He tried to release the sword, to let it fall to the ground.
Nevertheless, it remained firmly in his hand, as if bound by an invisible force.
Before he could react further, Viorenving lifted his arm, guiding him forward. The sword was leading him somewhere. Despite his fear and confusion, Ansel found himself compelled to follow.
He whispered, his voice trembling. "Where are you going to take me?"
He walked through the forest, the trees blurring past as if time itself had slowed. Then, ahead of him, a figure appeared, Heka. The sight of him brought a flicker of hope to his weary heart.
He breathed, relief flooding through him. "Heka…"
But Viorenving's pace quickened, dragging Ansel forward with an urgency he could neither resist nor understand. Panic surged through him.
He tried to fight against Viorenving, to release his grip. Because he felt that the sword was after Heka. He shouted out, struggling against the sword's invisible grip.
"No!! Don't do it!!! Stop!!! Stop!!!"
He reached out, trying to pull Heka away, to warn him, to protect him. His voice cracked with desperation. "Heka, get away!!! Go!!! I can't hold it. Go!!!"
He asked Heka to leave many times. But, Heka couldn't hear it at all. Of course, because this was an illusion world. It was about the future that would happen to him and Heka.
However, Heka did not move. He seemed trapped in the illusion, unable to hear his plea.
Ansel realized with a sinking heart that this was no ordinary dream. It was a vision of the future, a glimpse of a terrible fate that awaited them both.
Despite his frantic efforts, Viorenving's blade rose with a deadly grace and plunged deep into Heka's chest. The sound of steel piercing flesh echoed through the silent forest, but time itself seemed to freeze in that moment.
Ansel stood rooted to the spot. His eyes became wide with stunned disbelief, unable to comprehend the horror unfolding before him.
A cold numbness spread through his veins, creeping from his heart to every limb. How could this be? How could he have killed Heka, the one who had been his friend? But he, he guided the light through the darkest of times.
The weight of the act pressed down on him like a crushing stone, threatening to shatter his very spirit.
Around him, the vibrant forest seemed to dissolve into shadows. The leaves whispered mournful secrets in the wind. The sunlight that once filtered through the canopy now felt distant and cold, as if the world itself mourned the loss.
Ansel's breath came in shallow gasps, his mind reeling with the unbearable truth. This was no mere accident. It was a warning, a cruel prophecy etched into the fabric of fate. Declaring that he was powerless to alter the course of what was to come.