The suffocating, pitch-black void stretched out for what felt like an eternity. There was no pain anymore… no burning slime acid, no shattered ribs, and no horrific sight of my own life force spilling onto the gold-dusted floor of the Caria Mines.
In that absolute silence, fragmented thoughts drifted through my consciousness like fading smoke.
"Am I alive? What have you always enjoyed doing? Playing as a hero for your whole life. The vengeance, the S-rank magic, the heavy canvas mask, the Death Chant Shotgun, and the tragic, blood-soaked mantle of the winged demon... it all felt like a grand, exhausting theater production that had finally drawn its final, fatal curtain."
A distant, echoing voice seemed to bounce off the walls of my own mind, questioning the reality of everything I had just endured. Then, with a sudden, violent gasp of air, I opened my eyes.
The colorful bioluminescent fog of the ravine was entirely gone. The smell of copper ore and burning mining tar vanished, replaced instantly by the familiar, heavy humidity of a tropical morning and the distant, comforting rumble of passing tricycles and jeepneys.
I was standing on a concrete sidewalk under the bright, warm sun of the Philippines.
I blinked rapidly, looking down at my hands. They weren't covered in hardened crimson scales or stained with the blood of undead knights. They were completely normal, unblemished hands. I quickly reached into the pocket of my casual dress and pulled out my smartphone. The lock screen lit up, displaying the date clearly: February 9, 2025, Sunday.
My breath caught in my throat. It was the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, a regular, peaceful Sunday for us Catholics. More importantly, my heart skipped a beat as the realization washed over me: this was exactly five days before the catastrophic accident that had ended my original life and sent my soul spiraling into that brutal, fantasy world of monsters and permitted mines.
I wasn't the Crimson Phantom anymore. I wasn't an executioner with a scarred Glasgow smile and a missing tongue. I was Roxanne Albatross, a regular seventeen-year-old girl, standing in the safety of her hometown.
"Hey, are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost."
I snapped my head to the side. Standing right next to me, wearing his neat church clothes, was Marcel, my boyfriend. Looking at his face, completely whole, uncorrupted by slimes, and warm with genuine worry, brought a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion to my chest.
"I'm okay, i'm just... really happy to see you." I whispered, my voice sounding completely normal, whole, and sweet in my own ears.
I quickly slipped my phone back into my pocket. Reaching out, I tightly laced my fingers through his, gripping his hand with a fierce, desperate protectiveness that texturally grounded me to reality. The nightmare of the Caria Mines began to fade into the background like a distant, dissolving dream.
As we walked together down the familiar sidewalk, heading toward the bells of the local Catholic church for Sunday Mass, I leaned in close to him.
"I love you, Marcel, I love you so much."
I said, my voice trembling just a little bit with the sheer relief of being alive, safe, and loved. Marcel smiled down at me, his eyes bright and affectionate as he squeezed my hand back tightly.
"I love you too, Roxy. I love you more than anything."
"I love you,"
I repeated, burying the memory of the winged demon deep into the recesses of my mind, completely content to just be a girl holding hands with her boyfriend on a peaceful Sunday morning.
The heavy wooden doors of the church offered a cool, shaded refuge from the tropical morning heat. Marcel and I walked down the aisle, our fingers still tightly laced together, and slipped into our usual, designated pew near the center of the nave. The familiar, comforting scent of burning incense and beeswax candles filled the air, anchoring me completely to the present. I took a deep breath, letting the soft murmur of the congregation wash over the lingering, chaotic echoes of my dream.
Halfway through the Mass, the initial rites concluded, and the congregation sat down for the Liturgy of the Word. The parish priest, clad in his green ordinary-time vestments, stepped up to the ambo for the homily. He cleared his throat, his voice projecting clearly through the church sound system, and began by reading the scripture:
"Brothers and sisters, as we reflect on the readings today, let us look to the Letter to the Hebrews, Chapter 9, verses 27 to 28: 'Just as people are destined to die once, and after that to face judgment, so Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him.'"
I froze in the pew, my heart giving a sudden, violent thud against my ribs. Destined to die once. The words felt like a physical hand gripping my shoulder.
The priest rested his hands on the podium, looking out over the quiet congregation. He began a deeply profound sermon, addressing a topic that caught everyone's attention: the human fascination with reincarnation versus the reality of Christian salvation.
"Many times in our modern world, people find comfort in the idea of reincarnation. They like to think, 'If I fail in this life, if I suffer, if I am broken, perhaps I will get a second chance in another world, or in another body, to fix my mistakes or seek my own vengeance.' We see it in books, in light novels, Isekai genres, in movies, and in our own wandering thoughts when life gets too heavy to bear."
I leaned slightly against Marcel, my hands trembling as I stared at the altar. It felt as if the priest was looking directly into my soul, calling out the entire lifetime I had just experienced as the Crimson Phantom in the depths of the Caria Mines.
"In our modern world, and even within our own culture, we often hear people talk about the idea of reincarnation, sometimes people joke about what or who they will be in their next life. Some find comfort in the thought that if they fail in this life, if they suffer immense trauma, or if they are unable to achieve their goals, they will simply get another chance, a blank slate to try again, to right their wrongs, or to seek vengeance for what was taken from them."
Hearing those words, destined to die once… sent a cold, violent shiver straight down my spine. My grip on Marcel's hand tightened instinctively. I had died. I remembered the exact sensation of the stone floor, the absolute failure of my lungs, and my intestines spilling into the gold dust. I had experienced the end of a lifetime, yet here I was, sitting in a church five days before the accident that was supposed to start it all.
"But the author of Hebrews reminds us of a profound, beautiful truth, we are destined to die once. This one life we have right now, this flesh, this breath, these people sitting next to us, this is the true gift. Our God does not trap us in an endless, exhausting cycle of rebirth where we must constantly fight, bleed, and play the hero over and over again to redeem ourselves. No. Christ took that heavy burden upon Himself. He died once to take away the sins of many."
I felt my breath hitch beneath my collar. It felt as though the priest was looking directly at me, peering straight through my skin to see the S-rank bounty hunter, the blood-winged demon who had spent an entire lifetime fueled by a white-hot desire to avenge Linera Rynd and an unborn sister named Evelyn.
"Why does God design it this way? Because a single life means that every choice we make possesses infinite value. If we had infinite lives, our love, our sacrifices, and our faith would mean nothing. Christ did not die multiple times, He was sacrificed once to completely take away the sins of the world. And because His sacrifice was absolute, our single journey through death is also absolute. When we close our eyes for the last time, we do not wander into a new earthly skin. We step forward to face judgment, and through His grace, we enter into eternal salvation."
He paused, letting the silence settle over the pews. Marcel shifted slightly, wrapping his warm arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him.
"True salvation is not found in escaping to another world or trying to conquer the shadows of a past life. It is found in waiting for Him, in living this one precious life with love, faith, and mercy. If you are tired, if you feel broken, you do not need a new life. You just need to let Him bring peace to the one you have."
As the priest concluded his sermon and stepped down from the pulpit, the congregation stood up to recite the Creed. My knees felt incredibly weak, and my mind was spinning in a daze of absolute confusion and overwhelming relief.
"Destined to die once." I thought
As the priest stepped down from the ambo to sit in quiet reflection, the church fell into a deep stillness. I closed my eyes, a single, silent tear slipping down my cheek beneath my regular, un-scarred skin. The heavy armor, the shotgun, the blood wings, and the crushing weight of a hero's vengeance... I could finally let them go. I squeezed Marcel's hand tightly, listening to the gentle rhythm of his breathing, completely ready to live my one, true life right here beside him.
The bright, late-morning sun beat down on the pavement as the church crowd spilled out onto the bustling streets. The familiar sounds of the city… the loud roaring of passing tricycles, vendors shouting their wares, and the chatter of families planning their Sunday lunch… swirled all around us.
Yet, my mind was still stuck inside the quiet, cool walls of the church, echoing with the priest's words. Destined to die once. If that was true, then the blood, the shotguns, the S-rank monsters, and the tragic death in the deep ravine... it was all just a massive, terrifyingly realistic nightmare. A warning, perhaps, of what could happen if I let darkness consume me.
And without a doubt, If the Bible was true, and if reincarnation was an illusion, then what was the Caria Mines? What was the Crimson Phantom? Was that entire, blood-soaked lifetime of horror, slimes, permits, and heavy shotguns just a terrifyingly vivid, prophetic nightmare sent to warn me? Or was this peaceful Sunday morning the actual grace… a second chance granted by a higher power to save me from a dark fate before the accident on February 14 could ever happen?
"Roxy, what are you daydreaming at? Is something bothering you?"
Marcel's gentle voice suddenly broke through my spiraling thoughts. I blinked, realizing I had been staring blankly at the asphalt while we walked hand-in-hand.
I quickly forced a small smile, shrugging my shoulders to brush it off.
"Oh, it's nothing, Marcel. I was just thinking... Tomorrow is Monday, right? The most boring day of the week. The beginning of the school week and the absolute end of our weekend."
Marcel let out a soft laugh, shaking his head fondly. He stepped a little closer, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before offering a truly heartwarming message.
"Don't worry about Monday, Roxy. I know school can be overwhelming, especially with how much you struggle with your classes, but you don't have to face it alone. I'm always here to help you study, okay? We'll get through those failing grades together. Just focus on one day at a time."
Hearing him say that… knowing the real Roxanne was actually a straight-F student who desperately needed his tutoring… made the whole S-rank legendary bounty hunter identity feel completely ridiculous. It was a massive wave of relief. I was just a normal girl, with a boyfriend who genuinely cared about my future.
BEEEEEP!
A loud, aggressive car horn abruptly shattered our peaceful moment.
We both turned toward the street. Pulling up smoothly to the curb was a sleek, polished black BMW. The window rolled down to reveal a guy wearing stylish sunglasses and a smug, teasing grin. It was no other than Marco De Castro, Marcel's older brother. Being four years older, he already had a corporate job and a nice car, and he never missed an opportunity to tease us.
"Look at you two lovebirds! Holding hands in the heat. Do you want a ride, or are you planning to walk all the way home just to stay glued to each other?"
Marco called out over the idling engine, leaning against the steering wheel. Marcel rolled his eyes playfully, shrugging his shoulders as he turned back to face me.
"Well, looks like my ride is here. We'll meet again at school tomorrow, love. My brother's here to pick me up."
"Go ahead, see you tomorrow, Marcel."
I smiled, the last remnants of the Caria Mines fully melting away into the warm tropical air. Marcel gave my hand one final squeeze before jogging over to the passenger side of the luxury car. He hopped in, and Marco immediately revved the engine, letting out another short beep of the horn as a parting joke.
I stood firmly on the concrete sidewalk, holding my breath as I watched the BMW pull back into the flow of traffic. I raised my hand and waved a long, peaceful goodbye as the car disappeared down the road. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, the air felt light, the future felt safe, and February 14th was just another day on the calendar I was fully prepared to survive.