Chapter 1: Prologue
# Chapter 1: Prologue
The jungle dungeon smelled like old stone and wet earth, the kind of smell that told you this place had been dead for a very long time.
Patricio wiped sweat from his forehead, but his hands wouldn't stop shaking. His chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing his heart from the inside, and every breath hurt. His leather armor was torn in three places, the breastplate cracked during the beast's first tail strike with jagged edges pressing into his skin. His daggers were dull from blocking too many scales, the metal no longer gleaming.
He was a Shadow Thief used to stealth, to vanishing into shadows and striking from behind. Not this kind of brutal frontline combat. But the dungeon hadn't given him a choice. The beast had cornered him, forced him to fight head-on, and Pat was barely surviving. As guild leader, he should have brought a full party, but he'd insisted on scouting alone first.
The beast roared again. The sound echoed through the tomb.
It wasn't a normal lizard. This thing was wrong—too big, too fast, covered in black scales that seemed to absorb the dim light. Its eyes glowed red like dying embers, and Pat could feel the heat radiating from its body even from here. It had already taken half his HP.
**Ignis, the Ashen Guardian**. Level 85 Elite+.
The companion beast of the fallen god, protecting its master's eternal slumber. Before the god had met his end, this creature had stood by his side. Now it guarded the tomb with rage, its fire burning with the same darkness that had consumed its master.
The tomb behind him belonged to a fallen god, forgotten in history. Maya had found the map in an ancient book she'd discovered in a library's restricted section. The items inside would change everything for their guild in the VR game. As guild leader, Pat knew this could elevate their entire guild to new heights. He'd been so excited when she'd shown him the map, her eyes bright with the thrill of discovery. She was someone Pat trusted deeply, someone he'd thought cared about him as much as he cared about her.
The air grew colder near the tomb entrance. Ancient symbols on the walls dimly glowed, responding to the violence. The stopwatch in the beast's chest seemed to hum, even from this distance. The fallen god's presence watched, and Pat felt small beneath that ancient gaze.
Pat checked his status, his hands trembling as he summoned the hologram.
[STATUS]
HP: 58/120
Effects: Poisoned -3 HP/sec, Bleeding -2/sec
Equipment: Leather Armor (Damaged -20% DEF), Daggers (Dull -15% ATK)
He didn't have much time. The poison was burning through his veins, and every drop of blood made him weaker. Pat fumbled for an antidote potion in his belt, his hands shaking. He downed it quickly, the bitter taste spreading through his mouth. The poison effect faded from his status panel, but the bleeding remained.
The mobs before the boss chamber had been brutal enough—shadow wolves that had torn at his legs, skeletal warriors that had hacked at his armor. He'd pushed through them all, drinking potions and using scrolls, thinking the boss would be the real challenge. He hadn't expected the beast to be this relentless. This was beyond anything he'd faced before.
The beast lunged. Muscles coiled like a predator's.
Pat rolled, barely escaping. Claws shredded the stone where he'd stood a second before, sparks flying as metal met rock. He came up swinging—Shadow Step activated. He flashed behind the beast, daggers aimed at its weak points.
[SKILL]
Shadow Step activated. Cooldown: 8 seconds.
Blocked. The scales were harder than steel. His daggers bounced off with a clang that rang in his ears.
[COMBAT]
Attack blocked. Damage: 0. Critical hit: Failed.
The beast's tail whipped around, faster than Pat could track. He tried to use Vanish, but his mana was too low. He couldn't dodge fast enough. It slammed into his ribs, and he heard something crack with a sickening sound.
The leather breastplate shattered, falling away in pieces that scattered across the stone floor. He flew backward and hit the wall, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Pain exploded through his chest, sharp and blinding. For a second, he couldn't breathe. Fear grabbed his throat, cold and suffocating.
[STATUS]
HP: 34/120
Effects: Bleeding -2 HP/sec, Broken Rib -5 HP/sec
Equipment: Leather Armor (Destroyed -0% DEF), Daggers (Dull -15% ATK)
Mana: 15/80 (Low)
The numbers kept dropping, faster than before. His vision blurred at the edges. He was going to die if he didn't do something. The beast stalked closer, its movements deliberate. It knew he was hurt. It was enjoying this, savoring his fear.
Pat watched its movements, forcing himself to think through the pain. It always roared before attacking. Two seconds between the sound and the strike. That was the pattern—that was his chance.
Pat's hand found the potion in his belt—high-grade healing, expensive but worth it. His last one. He drank, the liquid burning down his throat. Then he grabbed a bandage from his pack, wrapping it around his bleeding arm. The bleeding slowed, the status panel updating.
Warmth spread through his body, dulling the pain. The rib still hurt, but he could move again. He could breathe.
[STATUS]
HP: 78/120
Effects: Broken Rib -5 HP/sec
This was still not enough, and not nearly enough to survive.
The beast opened its mouth, and fire gathered in its throat, illuminating the tomb with an orange glow.
Pat ran and activated Sprint, boosting his speed for a short burst with his heart pounding. He scrambled up the broken pillars, jumping from one to another. The fire breath followed him, turning stone to slag. The heat singeing his hair. His Sprint wore off just as he reached the top, leaving him gasping.
He reached the tomb entrance at the top of the chamber. The beast couldn't fit through the narrow passage.
It roared in frustration, the sound echoing through the chamber. It clawed at the stones, trying to dig him out. Its fury barely contained.
Pat leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. His HP bar kept ticking down, each number a countdown to his death.
[STATUS]
HP: 52/120
Effects: Broken Rib -5 HP/sec
Equipment: Leather Armor (Destroyed), Daggers (Dull -15% ATK)
Mana: 5/80 (Critical)
He had to end this now before his HP ran out and before the beast found another way through.
Pat remembered the trap scroll he'd bought in town, which was expensive and for one use only. He'd been saving it for something important that would change the game for their guild. This counted, as this was more important than anything else.
He unrolled the scroll and read the words aloud, his voice shaking. Ancient magic hummed in the air, the power of it making his skin pringle.
Invisible threads spread across the chamber below, glinting faintly in the dim light. The beast didn't see them. It kept clawing at the tomb entrance, focused only on reaching him.
Pat waited until the beast stepped right into the center of the threads, positioning itself perfectly.
"Now," he whispered to himself.
He activated the scroll, pouring what little mana he had left into the activation.
The threads snapped tight. The beast roared as invisible blades sliced into its legs, its belly, its neck. Blood sprayed across the stones, hot and bright. It thrashed, knocking over pillars, collapsing part of the ceiling in a shower of stone and dust.
The tomb symbols flared brighter, responding to the violence. The fallen god's presence seemed to pulse with the beast's dying breaths. The stopwatch in the chest hummed louder, responding to the blood and pain.
Pat had to jump back to avoid being crushed by falling debris.
The beast fell and tried to stand with its legs trembling, but couldn't. Its legs were cut to the bone, and the wounds were too deep to heal.
Pat climbed down carefully, his body weak from blood loss. His HP was dangerously low now, and his daggers were almost useless against the beast's scales, dulled beyond effectiveness.
[STATUS]
HP: 38/120
Effects: Broken Rib -5 HP/sec
Equipment: Leather Armor (Destroyed), Daggers (Dull -15% ATK)
Mana: 8/80 (Low)
He walked up to the dying beast, each step a struggle. It glared at him with those red eyes, still full of hate and still wanting to kill him.
Pat raised his sword, his arm shaking from exhaustion. His chest hurt with every breath, a sharp pain that never went away. He was tired—so tired he could barely stand.
"Sorry," he whispered, though he didn't know why he was apologizing. This was a monster that would have killed him without hesitation.
He struck with all his remaining strength. The blade went through the neck, sinking deep into flesh and bone, but the beast didn't die.
Instead, it screamed—a sound that tore through Pat's head like metal on glass.
The wound knit itself together, flesh knitting over flesh. Black scales turned blood-red, glowing with inner fire. The eyes blazed like living flames. The beast surged to its feet, faster than before, stronger than before. Flames erupted from its scales, turning the tomb into an inferno.
[BOSS ABILITY]
Berserk Mode Activated
Phase 2/2
Damage +200%, Speed +150%, Defense -50%, Flame Aura Active
Enrage threshold: 30% HP reached
Pat stumbled back as the beast charged, the heat searing his skin. He activated Sprint—his last mobility skill. He dashed between collapsing pillars, using the terrain to his advantage. The beast's claws smashed through stone, but Pat was already moving, desperate to survive.
He needed an opening. The beast was faster now, but it was also reckless in its rage, blinded by fury.
Pat grabbed a loose stone from the floor and threw it at the beast's face. The creature flinched—just for a second, but it was enough.
That was all he needed to turn the tide.
Pat used Shadow Step to flash behind the beast, but this time he aimed for the heart. The berserk form had left its chest scales glowing with internal fire—the weak point exposed, the one place he could strike that would matter.
The fangs sank into his shoulder as he struck, hot pain like liquid fire. Pain exploded through his body, blinding and overwhelming. His HP dropped. Pat desperately reached for another healing potion, his emergency stash. He downed it as the flames seared his skin.
[STATUS]
HP: 45/120
Effects: Broken Rib -5 HP/sec (Duration: 45s), Berserk Bite -10 HP/sec (Duration: 30s), Flame Burn -5 HP/sec (Duration: 20s)
He was going to die. There was no way around it.
Then something inside him snapped—not fear, not panic, but something harder, something that refused to give up.
His HP ticked up—just a little. His body was fighting back, adrenaline surging through his veins.
[STATUS]
HP: 48/120
Effects: Broken Rib -5 HP/sec, Berserk Bite -10 HP/sec, Flame Burn -5 HP/sec, Adrenaline Surge +0.5 HP/sec
Pat gripped his sword with both hands, his fingers white with effort. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle.
The beast roared and prepared to finish him, its mouth opening to unleash fire.
Pat didn't think, didn't plan. He just moved on instinct.
He poured everything he had left into one strike—every ounce of strength, every bit of will, every drop of adrenaline surging through his veins. The beast's flames were searing his skin, but he didn't feel the pain anymore. He felt only determination—a refusal to die here, in this forgotten tomb, betrayed and alone.
He screamed and swung, putting everything into it. The blade caught the beast in the chest, right where the heart should be, piercing through scales and flesh and bone.
[COMBAT]
Critical hit! Damage: +150%
Berserk mode or not, no heart could survive that.
The beast froze, its eyes widened and the red glow dimming. It tried to roar, but only blood came out, bubbling from its throat.
It fell, crashing to the ground with a final thud that shook the chamber. This time, the beast stayed down for good.
Pat collapsed on top of it, his strength finally giving out. His vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges. His body wouldn't stop shaking. He could barely feel his hands, numb from blood loss and exhaustion.
A ball of white light flew from the beast's body and entered Pat's chest. Warmth spread through him, tingling like electricity. His heart skipped a beat.
[EXPERIENCE]
+2,500 XP gained. Level up available.
[STATUS]
HP: 120/120 (Fully Restored)
Effects: Broken Rib -5 HP/sec (healing), Flame Burn -2 HP/sec (fading), Exhaustion -2 HP/sec (fading)
Mana: Regenerating +2 MP/sec
He had done it. He'd actually killed it against all odds. He'd survived.
A small chest appeared where the beast had fallen, materializing from thin air. Pat stared at it through blurry vision, unable to believe this was real. He tried to crawl toward it, his arms weak and trembling, but his arms wouldn't work.
He dragged himself forward, inch by inch, until his fingers brushed the chest's metal surface. The lid popped open at his touch.
Inside lay five items, gleaming in the dim light.
His shaking hand reached for the sword first—black blade, no markings, but the metal hummed with power. He could feel it vibrating against his palm. The fallen god's weapon.
He pulled it from the chest, and the hologram description appeared, floating in the air before him.
[ITEM]
Name: Voidblade of the Fallen God
Rank: Pseudo-Legendary (SS-)
Type: One-Handed Sword
Stats: ATK +250, Crit Rate +15%, Void Strike chance
Special: Deals extra damage to divine and undead targets
Effect: Blade passes through armor 30% of the time
Pat stared at the rank, disbelieving. Pseudo-Legendary. In the game, items ranked from Common to Legendary. Pseudo-Legendary was one step below god-tier artifacts. Only dungeon bosses dropped these, and most players never saw one in their entire lives.
The beast he'd killed must have been Elite+. That explained why it was so strong, and why it dropped such high-tier loot. In the VR game, this kind of find was legendary—the kind of thing that could change everything for a guild.
His hand moved to the second item, trembling with weakness. A staff of dark wood, carved with ancient symbols that seemed to shift when he looked at them. It pulsed with magical energy, the wood warm against his fingers.
The hologram description appeared.
[ITEM]
Name: Staff of the Fallen God
Rank: Pseudo-Legendary (SS-)
Type: Two-Handed Staff
Stats: MATK +300, MP +200, Cast Speed +20%
Special: Amplifies all spell effects by 50%
Effect: Restores 5% MP per second in combat
Another Pseudo-Legendary item. This staff would make any mage devastatingly powerful—the kind of weapon that could turn the tide of any battle.
His hand moved to the third item—an old stopwatch with brass casing, scratched face, and hands frozen at midnight. It looked ordinary, almost worthless, but the weight felt wrong—heavy in a way metal shouldn't be, as if it held something more than just gears and springs.
[ITEM]
Name: Chronos's Gift
Rank: Sealed
Type: Artifact
Status: Locked
The name meant nothing to him, but the seal pulsed with ancient power.
Beside the stopwatch lay two glass vials filled with glowing red liquid—High-Grade Healing Potions, the kind that sold for fortunes in the market. These would have saved him during the fight, if only he'd found them earlier.
He tried to check the hologram description. Nothing appeared. The item was sealed, its secrets locked away.
Then he felt it—the point of a blade pressing into his back, cold and sharp, right between his shoulder blades exactly where his heart would be.
He couldn't scream. His breath was gone, stolen by pain and shock. Blood filled his mouth, warm and metallic. He vomited—a splash of red on the stone floor, bright against the dark stone.
[STATUS]
HP: 5/120 (Critical)
Effects: Broken Rib -5 HP/sec, Critical Wound -15 HP/sec (Fatal)
The numbers flashed red, warning him of what he already knew. He had seconds left. The adrenaline from the fight was fading, and the pain was coming back, worse than before.
Then he heard it—a laugh behind him, mocking and familiar in a way that made his blood run cold.
He forced his head to turn, his neck stiff with pain.
A man stood there, fading into view like a ghost becoming real with his hood up and face hidden. Then slowly, the hood came down, revealing features Pat knew well—it was Kristian.
The guy Maya had invited to join their guild two years ago. He'd worked his way up from stranger to trusted aid, proving himself useful in raids and dungeon runs. Pat had vouched for him after Kristian showed skill and loyalty—or what he'd thought was loyalty.
Kristian's face twisted into a grin that didn't reach his eyes. He wiped blood from his blade with a cloth, like this was just another raid. The smile looked wrong on his face.
Pat couldn't speak. The blade had pierced through his back, exiting through his chest in a spray of hot pain. Slowly, trembling, he reached down and touched the tip of the metal that now protruded from his own body.
His hand came away coated in blood, warm and thick. His own life slipping through his fingers. He stared at it, the red dripping between his knuckles, unable to comprehend that this was happening. Kristian had vouched for him two years ago. They'd raided together, laughed together. Now this.
His trusted person had sent someone to kill him in cold blood.
"Why?" The word came out as a whisper, barely audible as he asked, "Why are you doing this?"
He shouted it this time, his voice cracking with pain and betrayal. "Kristian, why!"
His mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other. The hidden dungeon. The secret location. Only one person knew about this place—only one person could have given Kristian the coordinates.
Maya was someone he trusted completely, someone he'd thought cared about him.
She'd found the map in an ancient book—tomb of a fallen god, forgotten in history. The items inside would change everything for their guild, give them power beyond imagination.
He'd told her he was scouting it alone first to make sure it was safe before bringing the rest of the guild, because he'd been trying to protect them.
"How did you know I was here?" Pat's voice shook, each word a struggle.
Kristian laughed, the sound cruel and cold. "Maya sent me. She knew you'd survive the beast—you're too stubborn to die easily. She knew you'd conquer the guardian beast and claim the items. She wanted someone here to collect the loot before you could claim it for yourself. The Voidblade is for me, and the Staff is for her. We both get what we need."
He held up a scroll case, displaying it like a trophy. "Tracking Scroll—Shadow Tier. Undetectable by the victim for two hours. I used it when you entered the dungeon, then followed you through the mobs, waiting for the right moment. The moment you were weak."
The anger burned through the pain, hot and blinding. "She sent you to kill me?"
Kristian stepped closer, his boots crunching on the stone. He hesitated for a split second—just a flicker of something in his eyes, maybe doubt, maybe regret. Then it was gone, replaced by cold determination.
He gripped the blade still buried in Pat's back and yanked it out.
Pat screamed, the sound tearing from his throat. The world went white for a second, pain overwhelming everything. His whole body convulsed, muscles spasming uncontrollably. He couldn't think through the pain and couldn't do anything but suffer.
Kristian walked over to the chest and picked up the Voidblade and the Staff. He examined both weapons, watching them hum with power, admiring the items that would make them strong.
"Beautiful," he whispered, reverence in his voice. "Level 70 equipment. The highest-tier drops. These will make us so much stronger. Maya will be very happy."
He laughed again, the sound cutting through Pat like the blade had. Pat's trusted friend, standing over his broken body, celebrating his betrayal.
Pat's hand found one of the healing potions from the chest, his fingers clumsy with weakness. He downed it quickly, the liquid burning down his throat. Warmth spread through his body as his HP began to rise.
[STATUS]
HP: 67/120
He had enough strength now for one last move. His hand found the binding potion he'd brought—liquid he'd bought from a merchant weeks ago. It was his only chance to escape.
He threw the potion with the last of his remaining strength.
The bottle shattered against Kristian's chest, glass flying everywhere. The liquid splashed across his face, his arms, his clothes.
Kristian laughed, thinking it was a desperate attack as he asked, "What was that?"
The liquid started to bubble, then thickened and hardened like slime or bubble gum, sealing his arms to his sides and his legs together to trap him in his own clothes.
Kristian cursed, his voice muffled by the substance. He tried to move but couldn't.
Pat's shaking fingers found the scroll in his other pocket—a teleport scroll. Five seconds to activate. Five seconds to escape.
He pressed his thumb to the rune, his heart pounding.
*One.*
Kristian's body flared with fire—an aura skill burning away the slime. The substance melted in seconds, freeing him.
*Two.*
Kristian lunged, blade raised with murder in his eyes.
*Three.*
*Four.*
*Five.*
The blade slashed through empty air.
Pat was gone in an instant, teleported away from danger.
He appeared outside the dungeon on a cliff edge, night air hitting his bleeding wound. The jungle lay far below, dark and endless. No one knew what was at the bottom.
Kristian appeared nearby a second later, his tracking skill still active. He saw Pat at the cliff edge, clutching the stopwatch with his body broken and bleeding.
"Give it to me!" Kristian shouted, running toward him. "That's the other item Maya wants!"
Pat looked at the jungle below, a dark abyss stretching endlessly. Then at Kristian charging toward him, his face twisted with greed.
Rain started to fall, heavy and cold. It washed the blood from his hands, from his body, but not from his soul. The drops hit his face like tears—tears he couldn't cry anymore.
He gripped the stopwatch tighter, his knuckles turning white. He thought of Maya's smile, so warm and welcoming. Kristian's laugh, so friendly and genuine. The years of trust, the friendship, the moments they'd shared. All of it meant nothing.
His special girl had sent someone to kill him. His friend had murdered him for items.
"You're not getting this, no matter what you do."
Pat stepped off the cliff into the darkness below.
His vision swam as he fell, the world spinning around him. He checked his status panel, his hands trembling.
[STATUS]
HP: 3/120 (DECREASING)
Effects: Broken Rib -5 HP/sec (Duration: 60s), Critical Wound -10 HP/sec (Duration: Permanent until healed)
Mana: 15/80 (Regenerating +2 MP/sec)
The numbers kept dropping, faster than before. The boss fight had used everything he had. He had nothing left—no hope, no strength, no future.
Then he saw it—a small icon under his buffs, blinking insistently.
[TRACKING]
Active. Caster: Kristian.
His heart sank. He realized it was the tracking skill. Maya must have given him the coordinates, then activated tracking to make sure he didn't lose Pat during the escape. She'd planned this carefully, thought of everything.
Kristian's voice echoed in his memory: *Maya sent me. She knew you'd survive the beast.*
The hidden dungeon. The fallen god's tomb. The stopwatch and the weapon. These items would change their guild's power balance in the VR game. Whoever controlled them would dominate, would rule.
Pat realized it now, the truth hitting him like a physical blow. All the kindness, the support, the affection—it had been pretending. Maya had used him from the beginning. Kristian was just her tool, her weapon.
But what made him rage wasn't just the betrayal itself. It was what it meant in this new reality.
If this had still been just a VR game—players using helmets and capsules to experience 100% realism with their virtual bodies, death being temporary, respawn available—Pat might have been angry. Sure. He might have been frustrated at losing loot or being betrayed by guildmates. But he wouldn't have been afraid. He wouldn't have been terrified of dying.
But the gods had changed everything. Some higher power, some entity playing with humanity, had decided that the virtual reality game should merge with the real world. The monsters, the dungeons, the combat skills—they weren't entertainment anymore. The monsters and dungeons were real. Death was now permanent.
Kristian hadn't just killed a character. He'd murdered a human being in a world where the consequences were permanent. Maya hadn't just betrayed a guildmate. She'd sent someone to end a real life for items that now had real power in the real world.
That was why Pat couldn't forgive this. That was why the rage burned through him like fire, consuming everything else. They'd turned what should have been a game into a death sentence. And they'd done it with smiles and fake kindness, pretending to care while planning murder.
Pat fell through the darkness, the wind roaring in his ears. The blood loss made him cold, his body going numb. He couldn't feel his body anymore. Couldn't feel anything but the rage.
If the gods wanted a second chance, he'd make them regret giving it. He'd make them all regret.
Then the voice returned—the same whisper from the tomb, ancient and powerful. It vibrated in his bones, not just in his ears.
"Patricio."
He looked up. No one was there, just darkness and the cliff rushing up to meet him.
"The item in your hand. The stopwatch. It was sealed until now. Use it, and the seal will break."
[ITEM - UNSEALED]
Name: Chronos's Gift
Rank: Divine Authority (Beyond Classification)
Type: Artifact
Original Owner: Ancient God of Time
Effect: Returns user to a random timeline point in their own life
Warning: Cannot choose destination. Timeline randomness is absolute.
Special: One-time use. Seals permanently after activation.
Note: Transcends normal ranking system - true divine power
But the hands were frozen—the little hand stuck at three, the large hand at twelve. The watch was completely still, like ordinary metal, like it wasn't working.
He shook it desperately and tapped the face, but nothing happened. The hands didn't move.
"Use it," the voice whispered, softer now. "The seal is broken. The choice is yours."
As the words faded, the watch suddenly hummed in his palm, vibrating with power. The little hand jerked, then began to move, creeping toward the large hand that pointed at the twelve.
"You have ten seconds," the voice warned. "End your suffering here and now. Or take the chance to change your life. Choose."
He thought of the VR game. It had started as just entertainment, an escape from reality. But the gods had slowly revealed the truth. The virtual reality was merging with reality. The monsters, the dungeons, the combat skills—all of it was becoming real. The final catastrophe was coming, something that would change everything.
He thought of the life he could have lived. If he had chosen differently. If he had seen the signs. If he hadn't been so blind. If he hadn't trusted so easily.
"You have ten seconds," the voice warned again. "End your suffering here and now. Or take the chance to change your life. Choose."
**10 seconds left.** His HP bar flashed red, warning him of his approaching death.
**8 seconds.** Punishment? Mercy? A second chance? He didn't know what this was, only that it was his only hope.
**6 seconds.** What would he change? Who would he trust? Could he bear losing everyone again? Even the ones who hadn't betrayed him yet?
If he went back, would he fall for Maya again? Would he vouch for Kristian again? Would he make the same mistakes, or would he see the lies this time?
Would he even recognize the betrayal before it happened?
**4 seconds left.**
His throat burned from the effort of breathing. His body was shutting down.
**2 seconds left.**
He opened his mouth, the words fighting to escape.
**1 second left.**
The little hand met the large hand on the twelve, coming together with the finality of a door closing.
"YES." He shouted with all his remaining strength.
Not for revenge. Not for power. He thought of Maya's smile, the one that had made him trust her. He thought of Kristian's laugh, the one that had made him call him friend. He chose to protect what he couldn't before. To see the lies this time. To not let the gods take everything from him again. To live a life where he wouldn't be betrayed by the people he trusted.
The stopwatch shattered into white light, blinding and absolute. A violent ringing pierced his ears, drowning out everything else. The world cracked like glass, reality itself breaking apart.
Patricio couldn't feel the cliff anymore. Couldn't feel the wound. Couldn't feel the rain. Only darkness folding over him like deep water, warm and endless.
The last thing he heard was the same voice, whispering like promise and threat:
"Cherish the second chance, Patricio. Your next life will not be easier."
