1
Today, I woke up and did the same as always: Therapy, insults, talking, more insults, eating, and finally… more insults.
"How repetitive," I muttered, staring at the ceiling.
A light knock on the door called me; I got up, and there was my grandfather.
"Hello, Dylan," he said. "Do you have a moment?"
"Oh, sure," I replied.
He entered the room with a smile.
"Guess what?" he said. "Your confinement is finally over."
"Eh?"
"Today, we're going to do something—the very reason I brought you here," he said.
Then he opened the door.
"Let's go."
I followed him in silence. I'm a bit scared, to be honest. I don't trust this guy much. Maybe he thinks I do… that's why he asks with such calm.
We went down to the same basement from the first time. It didn't smell as horrible this time.
"Hey, what's going on?" I asked.
"Well, you see, it was never my intention for you to get that necklace," he said. "But still, what I told you is true—I don't know what it does."
He paused.
"You know? There's a way to bring someone back from the dead. They say it's a myth, but I believe it could be real."
"...."
"Oh, come on, don't look at me like that. You agreed to this; that's why you didn't try to escape anymore, or am I wrong?" he said.
"Who do you want to bring back from the dead?" I asked.
"....Your paternal grandmother. She was everything," he replied.
Staring at the ceiling, my grandfather let out a snort.
"But it had to be a disease that took her from me."
He pulled out a gray metal knife.
"Michael doesn't know about this part. If he found out, he'd kill me. Dylan, thank you for doing what I couldn't."
With lightning speed, the knife pierced my skin, tearing through my entrails and stomach. The blood poured out in a chilling spray...
No, no, I don't want to die. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It was obvious—how did I not see it? It hurts. Red. It hurts.
So many blows… it hurts. Lisa, it hurts. Mom, it hurts. Carla, it hurts. Elizabeth, it hurts. Blood.
Dad….
"To revive her, I need your body. That will draw out Kyogre, and I can begin the ritual…."
It hurts. Heat. It hurts. Heat. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts….
Dylan Tyler died. His stomach was ripped open from end to end after 39 stabs of fire.
His entrails and organs were turned to pulp…
And so, the world existed no more….
● Return ●
Following the voice, I opened my eyes. I was tied to a chair…
"Hello, Dylan Tyler."
2
I vomited, and I fell with the chair. My vomit covered my clothes, while the same chair from before remained the same.
It's the same situation. It's exactly the same as when I first arrived here. The same dialogue, everything.
I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I. I died….
I vomited again, while the ropes bothered me. I want to leave, I want to leave, I want to leave, I want to leave….
The world turned off once more.
☆☆☆
Everything, everything is your fault, Dylan Tyler.
You won't get out of this. You will die over and over again, all because of my necklace. That necklace will allow you to return…
Over and over again, until you are broken.
This message will come when you die for the first time. Basically, every time you die, the necklace carries your consciousness back to the past.
The necklace will always return with you. You can take it off, of course, but so far you don't know how…
Enjoy this ordeal.
—Att: Mordred.
☆☆☆
My eyes snap open, and suddenly I start screaming, clutching my abdomen tightly. My tears fall.
I…
No, I'm not okay. I want to leave. It hurt so much. What do I do? I have to get out, but I don't know how… I want to leave, I want to leave, I WANT TO LEAVE.
I'm back in the room with the white sheets, and once again, I have the necklace. I don't know who put it on me, but honestly, I don't care. I touch it, remembering what the voice in that dream told me…
Returning from death. Sounds like a good power, I guess. I touch the purple crystal…
"I have to take advantage of this," I said.
It was true. With a power like this, I… why am I so afraid? I don't want to move; I tremble at the thought of it. Come on, stupid body, damn it…
Though, that death wasn't much… or so I tell myself…
I grip the sheets tightly as my breathing quickens. Then I saw the window. Before, I hadn't even noticed there was a window. Apparently, it had always been closed, and the light came from lamps.
"I must…"
I got out of bed with great effort, making my way to that window. It wasn't that high—it was like jumping from a shelf to the floor. My heart is racing. I jumped through the window, feeling the grass under my feet. Apparently, I'm barefoot.
I started to run, fast, pushing all the air out of my lungs. I can't catch my breath anymore, but it doesn't matter. I managed to reach where some golden gates were. I tried to climb them, but it didn't work. I fell.
A pressure surged through my back as I fell.
"Gk."
I was forced to swallow my own saliva, choking me.
"Dylan, what are you doing here?" Michael asked.
"¡.....!"
My breathing accelerated even more, and I climbed again. Michael tried to stop me, grabbing my feet.
"Dylan, you can't!" Michael said.
But just an instant later, a cutting sound.
Something stabbed into my back, piercing my skin. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. I can't move. My body has contorted. Blood is pouring out. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Red. Red. My vision blurs. Everything is blurry. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. So much blood. Someone is moving it inside me.
Her laughter... it's Michael's mother. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It's cold, so cold. I want... I want Dad….
Dylan Tyler died trying to escape. A spear pierced his internal organs, turning them into nothing, and blood was spilled all over the gate.
Michael let out one last scream, and so the world existed no more….
3
● Return ●
"Hello, Dylan Tyler."
The sound bounced through my consciousness. I tried to look for something else, something different, something that would tell me it was all a lie, but… I find nothing…
"...."
That saddens me. A tear falls down my cheek. I don't want to die again. I don't want to, I don't want to. I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to, I DON'T…
"I want to die…" I muttered.
It was all for nothing. I'm forced to die. I can already imagine it; my destiny is to die…. No, I don't want to. I'm not going to die.
My body trembles, and every sound makes me jump. I don't want to move, but I have to. If I don't… I'm going to die. No, I DON'T WANT TO DIE. It hurts, so much, so much, so much, so much, so much.
"Bad day?" my grandfather asked.
"...Eh?"
"Did you have a bad day? If you want, I can bring you a drink," he said, holding out a hand.
"...."
I have to get out of here. I have to know why Michael is like this. I have to stop that ritual. I have to know about the whale. I have to stop this man. There are so many things… but I'm afraid, so much. I don't want to move. I try to speak, and my voice threatens to break. My body is still shaking. I'm still crying. I have no courage…
"Dylan, don't give up! You can do it!" Lisa's voice resonates in my head, and I stop trembling. I feel relieved.
"That's right, son!" my dad's voice says. "Don't let these guys defeat you!"
It's true… I have to get up. I have to move forward to see them, so we can smile together again.
"Well, I'd like to sleep in a bed, honestly," I said. "But also… I'd like to talk to you."
"...."
Don't worry, guys. I'll make sure to come back.