All things vanished.
Even the carriage.
Even Sylra.
Now Felix stood alone in the heart of the fog — and it was thickening by the second. It twisted and coiled like a living thing, cloaking the path in a chilling, unfamiliar silence.
Yet somehow… it created a narrow road.
Without question, Felix walked forward.
Then —
A scream.
A roar.
Not human. Not animal. A sound scraped from nightmare.
Felix ran. His breath heavy, his fear louder than his footsteps. Up ahead, an exit — or what looked like one — flickered in the haze. He rushed toward it.
But what he reached was not salvation.
It was nothing.
A void.
Blackness stretched endlessly. Then — a low hum echoed from above, a voice neither male nor female:
"Use your power wisely.
For every gain of victory, someone loses their own."
Felix froze, chest heaving, eyes darting. The voice repeated:
"The exit is the entrance.
Stop wearing your name."
Suddenly—
He woke up.
Sylra's hand on his shoulder.
The carriage around them. The soft jostling of wheels.
Reality… or something like it.
"You're finally awake," Sylra said. "You've been dozing since we entered the fog forest. You were mumbling, struggling. I figured I'd wake you."
Felix blinked. "Wait… what? You didn't sleep?"
Sylra chuckled. "You think I'd nap through a myth?
Felix suprise, how come you can resist magic.
Sylra replied ,Please. Dream forests and magic illusions? That's fairytale stuff."
Felix thought (sylra was acting odd) he frowned. "But it felt so real. The fog — it was like a place between places. And the voice—"
Sylra smirked. "Sounds like you're still dreaming. Or maybe you've just stopped wearing your name." He winked, joking. *
But Felix's face turned serious. "Tell me something. Who do you love?"
Sylra raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Just answer."
Sylra shrugged. "We don't have time for that. I don't love anyone." *His eyes flicker statically*
That answer didn't sit right, his eyes flicker felt eerie . Not the Sylra Felix knew.
He reached for his hidden knife, slowly.
"And your mother? She must be proud of you, right?"
Sylra smiled faintly. "Yeah. She is."
Felix's expression darkened.
"Then I'm sorry."
He stabbed him. Quick. Clean. A single movement.
Sylra's body slumped.
And once again — the fog swallowed the world.
Back in the void, thoughts assaulted Felix like a storm.
Images of Sylra crying. Dying. Bleeding. Betrayed.
One after another, new versions of Sylra appeared — each whispering:
"I thought I could believe in you."
"You're a traitor."
He killed them all. Again. And again. And again.
But the cycle never ended.
Until, finally, he gave up.
He stopped resisting. Stopped fighting. Just let go.
And in that surrender, the dream changed.
At that Moment he felt a warm aura , his pocket glowing the the start fall ,
The old man who once gave him the star fall fragment.
Walking ahead, glowing faintly from Felix's own pocket. Felix followed, tired, empty, dragging his feet.
The old man spoke, his voice gentle but firm:
"Sometimes… the exit is the entrance.
The way you came in is the way you go out.
Stop being yourself.
Stop wearing your name.
You must lose to win. "
Felix's eyes flickered.
The words sank deep.
If I kill the dream, it repeats.
Because I kill only what I fear — not myself.
But if I kill… myself… maybe then… I wake.
He didn't hesitate.
He drew his blade.
"Goodbye," he whispered — to the dream, to the lie, to the loop.
He stabbed himself.
He woke up.
For real this time.
Carriage.
Sylra.
The real world — clear and bright, with sun filtering through the windows.
Sylra stared outside.
Felix watched him a moment… then said softly:
"Thinking about Nell again?"
Sylra didn't answer. Just breathed in, long and slow.
Felix smiled — this time, relieved. It's really him.
But sleep's hold wasn't done yet.
Felix drifted. Dreamed.
And again, the void tried to reclaim him.
More illusions. More guilt. More fragments.
Until, eventually — one last time — he saw the old man, smiling gently.
"The exit is the entrance," he said once more.
And this time, Felix listened. He nodded.
He understood.
He drew his sword one final time.
No hesitation.
"Let this end."
He slit his own throat.
He awoke.
The real world — truly, finally.
He looked out the carriage window. The sun rays glinted off metal and glass.
The breeze brushed through his hair as he cracked the window open, breathing in freedom.
Behind them: guards.
Ahead: carriages.
Beside him: Sylra. Real, silent, present.
Felix leaned out and asked the coachman, "How long till we reach the capital?"
The driver glanced back. "Not too long now, sir. We'll arrive before sunset."
Time passed. The roads grew wider. The trees thinner.
Eventually, they reached open land — wide plains, dotted with abandoned homes.
Felix furrowed his brow. "Why's all this land so empty?"
The driver answered, "These are farming fields, sir. Meant to supply the capital. The homes? Soldier outposts — they guard the crops from beasts. It's off-season now, so everything looks dead. Come planting time, it'll all bloom again."
Felix nodded. "Every day, I learn something new. That's life, isn't it?"
Hours later —
The capital's gate loomed tall before them, grand and imposing.
As the gates creaked open, Felix's jaw dropped. The city sprawled beyond imagination — structures of unknown material, streets like silver veins, homes large and proud.
In that moment, he turned to Sylra and grinned.
"How about a coin toss?"
Sylra raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"If it lands on heads — our time here will be great.
Tails? Terrible."
He flipped the coin.
It spun.
It danced in the air.
It landed — heads.
But the coin… shattered.
To be continued