The real world sleeps. But his soul does not.
When Knnight closed his eyes, his body simply lay still on the cracked, cold floor. But within him, the door opened once more—the door to a place even time itself was reluctant to linger in.
Remnanctum.
A dimension of the human soul, unique to each person. For Knnight, it was a silent space with no boundaries, resembling a shattered subconscious. The sky was colorless. The ground was broken, riddled with cracks and yawning chasms. Black mist covered every inch of the space, flowing like rivers of unhealed wounds.
Towering walls loomed, shattered and cracked, as if they once bore a burden too heavy to hold. Shards of mirrors hung suspended in the air, reflecting vague images of Knnight's face—a face that did not smile, nor frown—only... empty.
In the distance, ruins of buildings stood in silence, like remnants of forgotten memories. Broken mountains slumped and collapsed, blocking the path that led to the core of his soul. There, amid the wreckage, a small light flickered, almost extinguished, but never fading completely.
Knnight walked slowly through the mist. Every step sent gentle ripples across the ground, like a stone disturbing a still lake. Yet in the silence, something moved.
Shadow creatures.
They had no eyes, yet could see everything. Their forms shifted constantly, sometimes resembling giant bats, other times black hands clawing at the sky. They emerged from the mist, encircling Knnight with soul-piercing hisses.
"What are you searching for here again?"
"Haven't you already given up?"
"Your memories are no longer yours. They have poisoned you."
Knnight did not answer. He had heard these whispers too many times—voices of his own emotions, guilt, and wounds he could not heal.
He stopped before the ruins of an old workspace. In the real world, it might have been just a small law office he visited each morning. But here… only a broken desk and a charred, aged chair remained.
He approached.
And when he touched the chair, memories surged back like a tsunami wave.
[FLASHBACK]
"Knnight, sorry... our client canceled again. They said you were too... slow."
Coworkers' laughter. Fake smiles. A world that demanded he stay strong, stay "fine," even as his days crumpled like soaked paper.
Each day the same. Piling work. Vanishing clients. Bosses lacing insults with polite words.
But none of that compared to the worst thing: the emptiness.
Once, he could laugh. He could feel anger. He could enjoy the taste of warm bread in the morning. But then, it all vanished. Emotions became ghosts. Smiles became mere formalities. His heart... a broken TV screen, displaying nothing but black-and-white static.
Then came the déjà vu. Flashes of memories that either never happened—or had, in another time and place. An endless repetition. His life felt like mismatched pieces of a nightmare puzzle he could never solve.
He tried to scream—but only silence echoed back.
He tried to cry—but the tears wouldn't fall.
It was then Knnight realized something: he wasn't crazy. But he was no longer the human he once was.
Back to Remnanctum.
The ruins of the office crumbled before him. The mist thickened. And the shadow creatures began to close in once again.
But this time, Knnight did not retreat.
His hands clenched. Memories solidified. All the anger, disappointment, and helplessness gathered at one single core.
Memory Bank: Anger.
The first image: his bloodied hand after punching a desk when accused of something he never did.
Memory Bank: Despair.
His mother's words: "Son, you have to be strong, but... don't keep living like this." He had nodded, though he had already shattered inside.
Memory Bank: Loss.
Elara. The only light in his life. Gone. Lost. Whether by fate, or because he was too weak to hold onto anyone.
Those emotions... burned. But not to destroy.
Instead, from that swirling darkness, a new force emerged.
Like sparks igniting from long-suppressed embers.
The Law of Remnant.
A power that came not from the heavens, nor the earth, but from the remnants of human emotions, fueled by negative energy—
emotions drawn from the Memory Bank.
At once, the shadow creatures roared. The mist swirled violently. The ground of Remnanctum shook.
The reflections of Knnight's negative energy erupted, plunging the world into chaos.
The creatures halted. They did not attack.
They knelt.
Because Knnight was no longer a mere victim of his inner wounds.
He had become the embodiment of those wounds. A soul that did not die in silence—but learned to speak through prolonged stillness.
Knnight collapsed to his knees. His chest tightened. His hands trembled. He knew that using the Law of Remnant could strip away his sanity.
But he also knew... he had endured enough destruction. He was no longer running from himself.
And the tiny light—in the center of Remnanctum—grew slightly stronger.
Not enough to heal.
But enough to prove...
Hope remained.
The small light grew brighter, though it still flickered. Remnanctum, once a realm of utter devastation, now appeared slightly different. As if something was beginning to flow through it—something Knnight could not yet fully comprehend.
Yet, the memories rooted deep within his soul still hurt. Each remembered moment, every bit of suffering—continued to bind him, nurturing hatred toward both the world and himself.
One by one, the shadow creatures retreated—not out of fear, but because they knew Knnight was no longer prey. In the emptiness, among the dissipating black mist, Knnight stood tall. His eyes focused on a single point, still shrouded in fog. Yet now, he could feel it. A new energy, flowing not from outside, but from within—from his buried memories.
It was here the Law of Remnant was truly born. Not merely as a weapon of destruction or revenge, but as a tool for survival. Because its strength came not from hatred alone, but from understanding, acceptance, and healing.
This power was not about changing the past—which was impossible. It was about accepting a wounded history, and using it to rise—not as a victim, but as the hero of his own story.
Knnight's steps grew steadier, though the pain still dragged at him. He knew that with the Law of Remnant, he could wield these fragments of himself. He could confront them—not as enemies, but as parts of him that needed to be embraced.
Slowly, he raised his hand. In it, black-red energy flowed, symbolizing the strength he had drawn from long-locked emotions. A sigil formed beneath his feet, expanding until it filled all of Remnanctum.
"This isn't for destruction," he muttered to himself, his voice heavier than before. "It's to understand."
Suddenly, a familiar voice called out. Soft, distorted by mist.
"Knnight..."
That voice. Elara... or… that schoolgirl...
Knnight turned, though he could not see clearly. All he knew was the presence felt real. Comforting. Something pushing back against the darkness inside him. A force from good memories.
Good memories.
The memory surfaced again—whoever she was, she had always been there, no matter how dark the days became. Though he didn't understand it fully, part of him longed for healing. Longed for hope. Longed for connection.
Who is that tiny light?
And even though Knnight couldn't fully comprehend or fix everything that had happened, he knew one thing for certain: he didn't have to walk alone anymore.
In Remnanctum, the mist began to lift. The ruins, once crumbled, started to rebuild—not exactly as before, but into something new—stronger, more whole, though still carrying cracks.
Knnight lifted his head. The once-dim light now glowed brighter. In the center of Remnanctum, a new form began to take shape, a space born not just of destruction, but of growth—a place where Knnight could learn to feel again, without fearing painful emotions.
With a step forward, he pressed on. The mist no longer barred his path as it once did. He knew that by accepting both his light and darkness, his inner world could finally begin to heal.
In that long sleep, Knnight felt something he hadn't for so long—not just strength. Not just control over the Law of Remnant. But a purpose.
A purpose to heal.
And when his eyes opened, he no longer felt trapped in a void. He knew this journey—though long and treacherous—would lead to change. Not just for himself, but maybe for the world beyond.
Lily still sat beside him, her gaze confused. In the silence between them, a new kind of stillness took hold. One held purpose again after so long... and the other seemed like the world itself just wanted her to suffer because of him...
"Knnight," Lily spoke softly. "Are you alright?"
Knnight gave a slow nod, though the feeling remained tangled inside him, not yet healed. But one thing was certain—this time, he wasn't alone. And that was enough.
Lily tilted her head. "Do you have data? I want to call my family."
Before Knnight could answer, the world tilted—
—and everything went dark once more.l