The endless white horizon stretched infinitely in every direction—sky and ground blurred into the same shade of pale nothingness. Their footsteps echoed faintly, as though the void itself was struggling to remember the sound of walking.

  Ren trudged along with his hands behind his head, sighing loudly every few steps.

  Ren: "Seriously, old man, how much longer do we have to walk? Feels like we've been at this forever. Are you even sure this is the right way? 'Cause all I see is white, white, and more white."

  The Old Man, hunched but steady, leaned on his staff as he walked. His wrinkled face twitched in annoyance, though his eyes held a faint amusement.

  Old Man: "For someone who just died, you complain far too much. Hmph. Impatient, restless, noisy—no wonder you haven't grasped it yet."

  Ren frowned, throwing his arms out dramatically.

  Ren: "Haven't grasped what? You keep saying that word—'self-awareness'—like it's supposed to magically explain everything. What does it even mean? You expect me to just know?!"

  The Old Man chuckled under his breath, the sound like dry leaves brushing together.

  Old Man: "If I handed you the answer, it wouldn't be self-awareness, would it? You seek to return to that world, boy. But without understanding yourself, you'll be no more than a shadow—a drifting soul. Tell me, how can a shadow walk among the living?"

  Ren scowled and kicked at the ground, though there was nothing to kick.

  Ren: "You're dodging the question again. Always so vague. You sound like one of those old martial arts masters from a cheesy drama. Just say it straight! Do I need to meditate? Do push-ups? What's the trick?"

  The Old Man stopped walking and shot Ren a sharp glance.

  Old Man: "The trick, as you call it, is patience. But patience is something you sorely lack. Every step you take here is not just distance—it is reflection. Every question you hurl is proof you have yet to listen."

  Ren groaned loudly, dragging his feet as he caught up.

  Ren: "And every vague answer you give is proof you like messing with me. Reflection, patience, listening—do you even hear yourself? You're like a fortune cookie factory."

  The Old Man let out a huff, shaking his head.

  Old Man: "Perhaps. But fortune cookies can hold wisdom too, if you bother to read them properly."

  Ren barked out a laugh despite himself.

  Ren: "Great. My grand journey to enlightenment, guided by the Fortune Cookie Sage. Can't wait to brag about this when I get back."

  The Old Man smirked faintly but said nothing, resuming his slow, deliberate steps. For a while, they walked in silence—the nothingness humming softly around them, vast and endless.

  And then... something shifted.

  Far in the distance, barely distinguishable against the white horizon, a shape began to emerge. At first, it looked like a mirage, wavering in and out of existence. But as they drew nearer, its edges sharpened—pillars, archways, a triangular roof.

  Ren slowed, blinking in disbelief.

  Ren: "...Wait. Is that—?"

  The Old Man nodded, his eyes narrowing with something between reverence and weariness.

  Old Man: "A temple. The first threshold. Few ever see it, fewer still enter. It answers only to those who walk far enough within themselves."

  Ren tilted his head, squinting at the growing structure. It was small compared to the vast emptiness, yet it seemed impossibly grand—its walls shimmering faintly, carved with patterns that shifted when he tried to focus on them.

  Ren: "Well, about time something showed up. I was starting to think this whole place was just some endless walking simulator. So what's inside? More riddles? Another lecture?"

  The Old Man gave him a sideways glance, lips curling into a sly smile.

  Old Man: "If you're lucky... perhaps both."

  Ren groaned again, but beneath his exasperation was a flicker of curiosity he couldn't hide. The temple loomed closer now, each step making it feel heavier, more real, as though the void itself was concentrating into form.

  For the first time, the silence between them carried anticipation.

  ...

  The temple loomed before them like a mirage made real. Its jade-green pillars curved into serpentine dragons that met at the peak, where a golden bell hung without chains, swaying gently in windless air. The walls shimmered like liquid porcelain—reflections of a thousand skies that never were.

  Ren's eyes widened as they stepped onto the stone path leading up the staircase. Each step glowed faintly under his feet, rippling as though the ground remembered the touch of mortals.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Ren: "Whoa... okay, this is straight out of some fantasy MMO. Wait—no, no, this feels like Japan. Or maybe China? Wait—nah, Korea? Seriously, where are we? I'm half expecting a monk NPC to pop up and offer me a side quest."

  The Old Man sighed deeply, pressing a hand to his forehead.

  Old Man: "Of all the souls that wander the In Between, I get the one with a comedian's mouth."

  Ren grinned, spreading his arms.

  Ren: "Hey, I'm just saying—it's got that whole Zen thing going on! Look at these pillars, this roof! I bet there's a koi pond somewhere and—oh, oh! Maybe a secret scroll with the meaning of life hidden behind a waterfall!"

  Old Man (deadpan): "If there is, it will not reveal itself to a noisy brat like you."

  He raised a finger to his lips and gestured toward the shrine doors. They slid open with a low, resonant groan that sounded like thunder from a dream. Inside, the air shifted—heavy with incense and something older than time.

  Ren's joking demeanor faltered slightly as he stepped in. The interior was dim, yet not dark—the light seemed to breathe, flickering from unseen lanterns. Symbols glowed faintly on the walls, moving like the surface of calm water, and a great circular mirror stood at the center of the room, framed by stone hands reaching toward it.

  For a moment, Ren just stared, caught between awe and unease.

  Ren: "...Okay, yeah. Definitely not Japan. This is some serious spiritual stuff. Maybe ancient heaven's VIP lounge?"

  The Old Man smirked faintly, then turned to face him fully.

  Old Man: "You once asked me what self-awareness means. Tell me now, boy—what do you think it is?"

  Ren blinked, caught off guard.

  Ren: "Uh... I dunno. Like... when you realize you've got a zit before someone points it out?"

  The Old Man's brow twitched.

  Old Man: "Try again."

  Ren rubbed the back of his head, chuckling nervously.

  Ren: "Alright, alright. Maybe it's when you finally understand who you are? Like... your strengths, weaknesses, the stuff you like, the people you care about... that kinda thing?"

  The Old Man's eyes glimmered, half-pleased, half-expecting more.

  Old Man: "And how does one attain such understanding?"

  Ren thought for a moment, then shrugged.

  Ren: "Trial and error? You know—mess up, get scolded, learn, repeat? Kinda like life's tutorial mode."

  Old Man (murmuring): "Mess up, learn, repeat..." He chuckled softly. "A crude summary, but perhaps closer to truth than you think."

  He stepped toward the mirror, his reflection bending oddly, like ripples distorting the image of his form.

  Old Man: "To know thyself... one must stand before the reflection of their truth, not the image they wish to see. That is why we are here."

  Ren tilted his head, stepping beside him.

  Ren: "So what, that mirror's supposed to show me my soul or something?"

  Old Man: "Not show. Reveal."

  The word hung in the air like the strike of a gong—deep, resonant, final.

  Ren's smirk faded as he looked into the great mirror. For a fleeting moment, his reflection looked normal—then it blinked back at him out of sync.

  A shiver ran down his spine.

  Ren (quietly): "...Okay. That's creepy."

  The Old Man simply folded his arms, eyes never leaving the mirror.

  Old Man: "You joke because you fear. You deflect because you doubt. But beyond the jokes and doubts lies something real. And that... is what we must awaken."

  Ren swallowed hard, his usual grin flickering uncertainly as he stared at the reflection that now grinned back at him—only, the grin was a little too wide.

  The temple's bells tolled once.

  The air within the temple grew heavy—almost suffocating—as the mirror's glow dimmed to a cold, pale blue. A low hum vibrated through the stone floor, echoing like the breath of something ancient beneath their feet.

  Ren's reflection still lingered in the mirror, though the grin it bore had faded. It now stared blankly back at him, expressionless—like a corpse standing upright.

  The Old Man's voice cut through the silence, calm but piercing, every word deliberate.

  Old Man: "Tell me, Ren... who do you think is responsible for all those moments you lost yourself?"

  Ren turned to him slowly, confusion flickering in his eyes.

  Ren: "What do you mean?"

  The Old Man took a step closer, his robes whispering across the floor like silk brushing against stone. His gaze held Ren's reflection in the mirror, not the boy himself.

  Old Man: "Those times when rage devoured you—when your heart turned to frost and your soul went silent. Who do you think was in control then?"

  The temple darkened slightly. The walls pulsed faintly as if they, too, were listening.

  Old Man: "When you were in Lunthale, tearing through the cult to reach the girl... Elly, was it?"

  His tone softened briefly. "You fought with fury that no mortal should wield. And again, when you stood before the Queen—blade threatening her whole kingdom, her guards frozen where they stood... or when you massacred the Aequinox of the Cult."

  He turned toward Ren, eyes like coals glowing behind mist.

  Old Man: "Those seven who called upon their gods for mercy... and found none in your eyes."

  Ren didn't speak. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His chest rose and fell unevenly, breaths sharp and shallow.

  Old Man: "So tell me, boy—who was it that held the blade?"

  The mirror behind them flickered. And then—images began to move.

  One after another, scenes from Ren's past came alive like memories projected through mist.

  Elly screaming his name as he howled within the snowstorm of his rage.

  Kael's throat inches from his blade.

  Seven bodies crumpling in the snow, red spilling across white like spilled ink.

  Ren's reflection walked through them all—unbothered, lifeless, eyes blank as ice.

  Ren's breath hitched.

  He stumbled back a step, hands trembling. His voice broke as he whispered, "I... I don't know."

  The Old Man said nothing.

  Flashes continued to storm through his mind—Elly's tearful face, Lily reaching out through smoke, Rica shouting his name, Kristie's face bloodied and sword through her chest, her lips moving soundlessly.

  Everything blurred. The sound of his own heart twisted into a low, echoing thrum. Then—nothing.

  Just darkness.

  And within that darkness... two colossal eyes.

  Vast, luminous, and inhuman. Watching. Waiting.

  He remembered drowning. The feeling of being swallowed whole.

  Ren's voice trembled as he finally spoke.

  Ren: "Maybe... maybe it's that thing. The starbeast. The one I found in the ruins. It—it entered me. It's been inside ever since. Dormant... but I feel it sometimes. When I rage. When I lose control."

  The Old Man tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable.

  Old Man: "Perhaps."

  Ren blinked. "You mean... you don't know?"

  Old Man: "Knowledge is not always given. Some truths must be found."

  He raised his hand, fingers curling slightly, and the air itself seemed to obey.

  Old Man: "If you truly wish to understand the source of your wrath... then step beyond what you see. Confront what dwells within."

  With a flick of his finger—

  The world shattered.

  The floor, the mirror, even the light itself collapsed inward, folding into a singular point of shadow. Ren gasped as the ground fell away beneath him. Darkness engulfed him whole—thick, weightless, soundless.

  No wind. No sound. No warmth.

  Only the void.

  He tried to speak, but his voice was swallowed before it left his lips.

  And then, somewhere in the black... a heartbeat echoed.

  Deep. Resonant.

  Not his own.

  Two eyes opened before him once again—massive and gleaming, twin stars in a sea of nothing.

  The void whispered his name.

  And Ren fell into the dark.