His heart pounded frantically, his vision shaking so much that he couldn’t even focus on what lay before him. What in black is happening? He thought, blinking a bit.

Heaving a few calming breaths, Karl turned, surveying the safe hall. He had a dream again..though this time, he was sure something was chasing him in it, but what was it?

He couldn’t remember.

It doesn’t matter, I suppose, he thought, stretching his arms and legs. The sweet relief washed over him, and the cold, though intense, wasn’t that great. It's a bit colder today, he realized but subsequently dismissed it. Next, his stomach growled, tears swelling up before chilling in his eyes.

What to eat today? Karl thought gleefully, spotting Monica; who still lay on the cold ground, asleep.

Isn’t she..

She awoke, startled. Eyes darting around the room. She stood up looking around as though searching for something. Eyes wide, breath coming out as puffs of white smock, she seemed deeply apprehensive about something. Maybe she was just hungry? Yes, if she ate food then the serene calmness would also come to her.

Karl stood up, walking towards the series of crates arranged in the room. What would she like to eat? he thought, hands pressing against the crate's lid, opening it. In there, he spotted a few things.

Cast by the unknown source of gray light, the box held several well-cooked meats–steamed, boiled, and salted. The scent filled his nostrils, his mind clearing up via the intoxication, yet he still felt odd.

He reached into the box, taking out a few slabs of perfect steak, then did the same for several other boxes. In the end, he left there with a handful of cooked steak, fruits, some he hadn’t even seen before, and chilled water. Reaching Monica who sat on the ground, feet brought close to her chin, arms wrapped around herself.

Was she cold?

Karl laid the food at her feet and sat down across from her. He picked up a cooked piece of meat, exerting far more strength than expected to tear it in half, then handed one portion to Monica. Of course, he could have simply given her another piece, but with her current odd state, he needed an excuse to speak to her.

She’s finally made an impression, Karl thought. He had never imagined a time when he’d care about what happened to her, but after spending time together in the safe hall, perhaps some level of camaraderie had formed.

Not that he trusted her with his secrets. But he was willing to ask about her state—if not out of genuine concern, then because she was his ticket to the so-called Grand Helper.

Karl paused. Grand Helper? Why hadn’t he thought about that before? Had he forgotten? Was the siphoning so strong that it had stripped him of his goals?

He frowned. That wasn’t a possibility he liked considering.

Should I leave the hall? The thought flickered and vanished as quickly as it came. He shook his head and nudged the meat closer to Monica.

“Have some,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on her.

But she didn’t move. She should have—she loved the meat provided by the hall. What was wrong with her? Was she not hungry?

Yet, for some reason, Karl didn’t believe that to be the issue. He leaned back slightly, feeling the cold seep through the stone into his body.

He kept Monica’s portion of meat at arm’s length while he chewed on his own. The flavor was extraordinary, as always, but even the entrancing taste couldn’t distract him. His gaze remained locked on Monica—watching, scrutinizing.

Something about her solemn state unsettled him. Ever since arriving at the hall, she had been the one who embraced its strange bounty the most. Sure, she’d sometimes wake abruptly from her sleep…

The thought faded. Karl rubbed his temples as a mild headache bloomed, then pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his frantic heartbeat.

The pulse pounded against his palm, and a deep frown creased his brow. Why was he so anxious? Was Monica’s mood seeping into him?

His eyes flicked to the tables scattered around—some hanging upside down, others floating mid-air, and a few latched unnaturally to the dark stone walls.

He exhaled a misty breath and turned his attention back to Monica—the girl he was supposed to protect.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, nudging the meat closer.

Monica didn’t respond. Her gaze remained downward, arms curled tightly around her knees.

Karl hesitated, then picked up a black apple and devoured it in large bites. Even with the food, hunger gnawed at his stomach.

What should I even ask her?

Karl wasn’t good at moments like this. He preferred silence to awkward conversation, but she was the only other human in the hall. Talking to her, even clumsily, was better than letting his mind slip into madness from prolonged solitude.

Monica’s head slowly rose.

She met his eyes.

Fear.

Karl froze.

What he saw wasn’t mild fear—it was deep, primal, maddening. The kind of fear that makes someone want to scream until their voice breaks.

But she didn’t scream. She simply stared at him, horrified.

One thought echoed in Karl’s mind: She needs meat. That would fix it. Once she ate, the fear would fade.

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Wide-eyed, Karl thrust the meat closer to her face.

“Eat,” he said, his voice hoarse.

But Monica didn’t move. Her lips stayed sealed, her eyes wide with terror.

I need to stop.

Instead, Karl pushed harder, pressing the cooked meat against her mouth. Monica flinched, choking as he leaned over her, one arm pinning her down.

“Just eat the meat!” Karl shouted, his voice cracking.

But Monica remained steadfast, her body trembling under his weight, her lips pressed shut.

Karl froze, realization crashing over him like icy water.

Stop this.

Karl’s heart pounded faster. Faster. Wildly.

Monica’s eyes were slightly swollen, her skin edging toward blue, and her trembling hands slapped against him in desperate defiance. She was fighting for her life… And he? He was taking it.

Stop this!

Karl needed to stop, but the meat… it needed to be eaten. It must be eaten. Why wouldn’t she eat it?

Stop this?

“Eat the meat!”

Stop this!

“Just eat it, and this will be over!”

Please stop this!

“Accept the mercy of the hall!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “Devour it… Eat it. It needs to be eaten. It needs to feed you.”

Why?

The fear in Monica’s eyes shifted. It wasn’t gone, but something new had taken its place. Her dark hair was scattered messily around her face and neck, but her eyes… they held something else now.

An epiphany.

Monica’s lips parted, the meat pressed fast against her mouth, but in a split second, she screamed

“The hall controls you!”

Karl’s eyes went wide. His fist clenched instinctively, then struck his own face. The impact sent him tumbling backward, crashing into a cold table and smashing through a chair at the other end of the room.

From the wreckage of splintered wood, Karl reached up, grabbing hold of the table and pulling himself upright. His mind swirled with vanishing thoughts, his chest heaving as his eyes darted across the strange room.

How? Why? How long…

His gaze froze on the table. Something was written there—not in Canese, nor in any other language known to this world.

It was… from his world.

Karl’s hands trembled, vibrating with a sudden chill. The cold hadn’t bothered him before, but now, it was all he could feel—an unyielding frost seeping into his very bones.

Memories surged. They poured in, crashing into him like a relentless tide. Days? Years? Months? He couldn’t be sure how long he’d been trapped in this hall, but in all that time, it had been feeding him… and feeding on him.

His memories.

Tears streamed down Karl’s face—not out of fear, nor sadness. No.

It was rage.

Nothing should control him. Nothing!

The world turned crisp, each detail sharp and painfully vivid.

But there it was—something. A force. A presence. Whatever it was, it surged forward, intent on silencing the memories. On reclaiming control.

Karl could feel it now. The intrusion.

It was as though his mind was made of countless tendrils, each holding fragments of memory, pieces of thought. And that force—that beast—was entwined among them, coiling like a parasite.

No more.

With a surge of will, Karl tore it away.

The intrusion vanished, obliterated in an instant.

And with it came the memories.

A man—himself—with wild red hair and a fluttering crimson cape stood firm before a massive, towering black wolf. Shadows clung to the beast, moving with it as though they were part of it.

Despite the monstrosity before him, the man felt no fear. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.

“We’re surrounded,” he said, his voice steady.

The wolf’s maw twisted into something resembling a smile. Its voice, deep and thunderous, filled the air.

“After today, these plains will become a place of nightmares.”

The man in red frowned, though most of his face was blurry.

The jagged stone ground trembled as mist—thick and acrid, scented of sulfur and ash—began to seep upward. The air churned, heavy and boiling, as the mist grew denser. Shadows moved within it—figures clad in iron, marching forward.

The memory shattered like glass.

Karl’s head rose slowly, his gaze sweeping over the familiar darkened room—the black stone floor, the scattered tables and chairs.

But the reverence was gone. Whatever creature had held sway over him, whatever force had clouded his mind—it was gone.

His mind was clear.

The ground shuddered violently beneath him, falls of dust descending from the ceiling.

It was the same trembling he’d felt once before—when the young mutant had spoken of a dream.

There’s a connection.

The thought was fleeting, so Karl didn’t linger on it. His attention shifted to the far side of the hall, where darkness pooled thick and impenetrable.

But now, the darkness was nothing more than a thin veil.

And Karl could see what lay hidden within it.

Black ink began to wash down the walls, spilling over tables and crates. Everything. In the aftermath of the dark flood lay the truth—the trueness of the hall. It was not a safe place. It was a desolate ruin, with molten, broken chairs and tables shattered as though a violent battle had torn through them.

The walls were etched with scratches, grime, and filth. Blood and flesh. Even the fruits and meat in the crates had decayed into foul, stinking slabs of tissue. There was nothing safe here.

Karl sighed, then said, “Come out!”

From the darkness emerged a towering figure—something like a bear, yet grotesquely different. It had three heads, each displaying distinct traits: one weeping, one spewing out frost like wind. Its stomach was caved in, tendrils of viscera dragging across the grime-slick floor.

The creature stopped a few meters away, looming between two large tables.

“Why do you always have to remember?” Its voice was a shrill, illusory cry. “Why can’t you let me take care of you? Why? Why?”

Karl remained silent, his eyes fixed on the void behind the creature.

“Just allow me to feed you,” the monster begged. “Please. The outside is dangerous. Stay with me, and you will be safe. I’ll feed you. Please.”

Karl stayed quiet. Monica, on the other hand, had passed out at some point—perhaps from strangulation, the cold, or any number of reasons. Whatever the cause, it was her willpower that had kept him alive, free from the creature’s control. What a will she must have.

The beast took a step forward, viscera dragging behind it.

“There are monsters outside. Dangerous ones. Stay here.”

Karl’s gaze sharpened. This is the thing that had controlled me? He recalled the text on the table and gritted his teeth. Then he raised his hand, and from the shadows, something whistled.

A glint of light cut through the gloom, flying past the monster and into Karl’s waiting hand. His weapon. His sickle.

It wasn’t the white flames, but it was something. Something useful.

Drawing a deep, freezing breath, Karl said coldly, “I refuse.”