"A bomb!" Frank whispered inwardly to himself, his countenance shifting as dread seeped into his thoughts. The realization struck him with brutal clarity—if the device he clutched was truly a bomb, it would extinguish him first before consuming the officials nearby.
The weight of that possibility pressed heavily on his chest, each heartbeat echoing like a countdown. As his mind raced, he began to worry not only about whether the device was indeed a bomb, but also about the devastating consequences that would follow if it were. The air seemed to thicken, silence wrapping around him, amplifying the gravity of his gamble. In that moment, Frank stood suspended between salvation and annihilation, uncertain whether he had chosen his escape or his doom.
He mistakenly dropped the device directly in front of him, his trembling hands betraying the sheer terror coursing through his veins. The instant it struck the ground, a blinding burst of light erupted, flooding the area with a crimson glow so intense it seemed to swallow the fourth vault whole.
Frank instinctively braced himself for impact, certain that the brilliant flare was the prelude to an explosion that would consume him entirely. His heart pounded like a drum of doom, each beat echoing the inevitability of destruction. Around him, the officials recoiled, shielding their eyes from the searing brilliance, their silhouettes flickering like shadows against the inferno of light. Suspended in that moment, Frank stood between annihilation and revelation, unsure whether he had triggered his end or unlocked something far more mysterious.
Frank's fear of being bombed never came true. Gradually, he opened his eyes, blinking against the lingering brightness, and to his astonishment, a radiant portal shimmered before him. Its glow pulsed with otherworldly energy, casting strange shadows across the vault floor. He stood frozen, uncertain of what to feel or how such a phenomenon had come to be.
Around him, the officials still shielded their faces, their expressions hidden behind raised arms. Some whispered among themselves, suspicion gnawing at their thoughts, wondering if the sudden burst of light was merely a clever distraction meant to lower their guard. The possibility that the intruder—Frank—might exploit the chaos to strike them down one by one weighed heavily in their minds, even as the portal's brilliance continued to hum with promise and danger.
The officials maintained their stance, unwavering and ready, but all Frank could see was a gathering of soul beings far stronger than him, prepared for battle. He knew he stood no chance against them—there was only one option left: escape. Without hesitation, driven by instinct and desperation, he stepped into the portal, surrendering himself to its radiant pull.
In an instant, the world around him dissolved, and he emerged elsewhere, transported as though he had simply stepped out of his own front door. Frank was certain it was a portal, yet the eerie simplicity of the transition unsettled him. Mere seconds after its opening, he had crossed into another world, a phenomenon so seamless and unnatural that it left him both awestruck and deeply uneasy, as though reality itself had bent to his will.
Frank's flashback, and the revelation it carried, was invaluable—it allowed him to piece together how he had arrived here. From that clarity, he gathered something precious: hope. Hope that he had finally returned to his world—Earth.
Though the dense vegetation surrounding him was unfamiliar, he stubbornly convinced himself that he was probably somewhere in Africa. The thought gave him direction, a fragile plan to cling to. All he needed, he told himself, was to find a tarred road, hitchhike to an airport, and somehow secure a way back home.
The idea was simple, almost naïve, yet it filled him with determination. For the first time in a long while, Frank felt the possibility of normalcy, even if the path ahead was uncertain and the land around him seemed both alien and unfamiliar.
However, Frank couldn't simply act on his plan. Reality struck hard—he had no credit card to pay for a flight, no clothes since he was completely naked, and not even money to buy food. Worse still, he lacked a passport or visa, any form of identification that could verify who he truly was.
A new wave of problems tumbled toward him, each one heavier than the last, threatening to crush the fragile hope he had gathered. Yet despite these obstacles, Frank found himself clinging to one source of happiness.
Though the journey back home would be long and uncertain, the mere change of scenery and the thought of interacting with humans again filled him with joy. After a seemingly unending stay in the land of Darkovia, the possibility of human contact—even in its simplest form—was enough to make him smile.
Amidst his fleeting happiness, a sudden thought struck Frank like a dagger. If he had used the portal device to escape into another world, what were the odds that the soul beings hadn't already realized what he had done?
What if, even now, they were activating similar devices, preparing to capture him and drag him back to the city of New Darkovia? The chilling possibility sent a shiver down his spine. Distracted by the thought, he stumbled, striking his leg against a jagged rock.
He scrambled upright almost instantly, adrenaline surging through his veins. The same wave of paranoia he had felt when surrounded by officials and soul beings returned with brutal force. His pulse spiked off the charts, and without hesitation, Frank broke into a sprint, running as fast as his legs could carry him, desperate to escape the unseen pursuers he was certain were already on their way.
Frank ran as far and as hard as his strength could carry him, leaping over branches and pounding his bare soles against the jungle floor. Each stride gathered momentum, propelling him forward in a relentless rhythm—jump, land, push, repeat—until fatigue finally clawed at his muscles.
Breathless, he halted, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temples. For a moment, he stood still, listening to the forest's silence, reviewing the distance he had traveled and measuring how far his current location was from the place he had fled. The jungle stretched endlessly around him, and though exhaustion weighed heavily, the thought that he had put space between himself and the soul beings gave him a fleeting sense of relief.
Frank was about to run again, but before he could, he paused to measure the amount of physical energy left in his body. His assessment was grim—he discovered he had no strength to sustain another sprint. If he tried now, he would only manage a few meters before collapsing in fatigue.
Worse still, the thought of his pursuers catching sight of him in such a weakened state filled him with dread. If they began chasing relentlessly, without rest, he would be overtaken in moments. The realization weighed heavily on him, pressing down like a curse reborn, and his mind raced with the terrifying possibility that his escape might already be slipping beyond his grasp.
Frank felt as though he no longer knew how to be human. The very act of "resting" seemed alien to him, and he couldn't shake the thought that idleness here might cost him survival. His instincts screamed that he should neglect rest and keep moving, securing his safety at all costs.
Yet, as he lingered a few more moments, something unexpected happened—he discovered that resting was beautiful. Through the quiet discipline of his meditation skill, he became aware of how energy slowly returned to his body, flowing back into his limbs like a hidden current. It felt as though he was being recharged, his strength renewed with every breath, and for the first time in a long while, Frank realized that rest itself could be a tool for survival rather than weakness.