Scene 148 — "Incomplete"
The Abyss remained endless.
Black stone stretched in every direction.
The obsidian throne stood at the center of the world.
And before it—
the Traveler stood facing himself.
Arafial sat upon the throne.
One arm resting casually against its dark surface.
Watching.
Silent.
The Traveler looked at him.
White hair.
The same face.
The same eyes.
Yet the difference between them felt immeasurable.
The Traveler took a step forward.
"Tell me who I am."
Arafial did not answer.
The Traveler took another step.
"What am I?"
Silence.
The Traveler's expression hardened.
Then—
he moved.
Not perfectly.
Not gracefully.
He crossed the distance and struck toward Arafial.
The throne did not move.
Arafial did not move.
The Traveler's hand stopped.
Arafial had caught his wrist.
Effortlessly.
The Traveler tried to pull away.
The grip did not change.
Arafial looked at him.
Then—
he laughed quietly.
Not warmly.
Not mockingly.
Disappointed.
"Fool."
The word echoed through the endless Abyss.
The Traveler's eyes narrowed.
Arafial released his wrist.
The Traveler stepped back.
Arafial slowly rose from the throne.
The darkness around the obsidian steps seemed heavier now.
He descended.
One step.
Then another.
The Traveler remained still.
Arafial stopped before him.
Looking directly into his own face.
"You wander."
"You bleed."
"You fight beasts."
His voice remained cold.
"And you call this strength."
The Traveler said nothing.
Arafial looked away briefly.
Toward the endless darkness.
Then back.
"A weak human would have died long ago."
A pause.
"But you insist on pretending."
The Traveler frowned.
"Pretending what?"
Arafial's expression became colder.
"That you are ordinary."
The Traveler took a step forward.
"I saved people."
Arafial's eyes met his.
"And yet one died."
Silence.
The Traveler froze.
The image appeared instantly.
The brother.
The broken spear.
The unmoving body.
Arafial saw the change in his expression.
"You fought."
"You won."
"And still death remained."
The Traveler clenched his fists.
Arafial continued.
"That is what angered you."
"Not the beast."
"The loss."
The Traveler looked away.
For the first time—
he had no answer.
Arafial circled him slowly.
Studying him.
As though examining something unfinished.
Then he spoke again.
"You hesitate."
"You doubt."
"You protect."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Strange."
The Traveler turned toward him.
"What do you mean?"
Arafial stopped.
The endless darkness behind him seemed deeper now.
"Those things did not belong to me."
Silence.
The Traveler stared.
For a brief moment—
something unreadable crossed Arafial's face.
Not anger.
Not contempt.
Something quieter.
Then it vanished.
Arafial turned away.
"You are incomplete."
The Traveler's voice was low.
"And you?"
Arafial stopped beside the throne.
The obsidian surface reflected nothing.
Not even light.
"I remember."
Silence spread across the Abyss.
Then—
the world trembled.
Arafial looked upward.
Toward a sky that did not exist.
His expression changed.
Slightly.
As though he had noticed something distant.
Something far away.
Then he looked back at the Traveler.
"You are waking."
The Traveler frowned.
"Waking?"
Arafial sat upon the throne once more.
The darkness gathered around him.
"You still have questions."
The Traveler took a step forward.
"And you have answers."
Arafial looked at him for a long moment.
Then—
his voice echoed through the endless Abyss.
Cold.
Certain.
"When you wake..."
He paused.
The Traveler waited.
Arafial's eyes briefly became dark purple.
"...Do not trust the road."
The black world shattered.
Far away—
in the real world—
the elder sister stood beside the unconscious Traveler.
Night had returned.
The younger sister slept nearby.
The Traveler remained motionless.
The elder sister looked toward the door.
Then back toward him.
Their brother was gone.
The settlement was broken.
And still—
she had brought the stranger home.
She looked at his bandaged arm.
At the face hidden beneath white hair.
Then quietly whispered,
"...Who are you?"
The unconscious Traveler did not answer.
But for one brief moment—
his fingers moved.
As though somewhere far away—
someone had heard the question.