As the boat began to approach the shores of the abandoned nation known as Polu, Banjo sighed, pulling himself off the railing and looking up at the bright full moon, smiling down at him in an eerie wave of light.

"Looks like it's time to go." Banjo smiled nervously up at the sky, lit only by the moon, and started to prepare himself to leave. Malincha had gone to sleep, leaving only him and Shen on the dock, who hadn't spoken a word since their conversation a few hours prior.

"Trying to tempt the devil himself. I underestimated you gravely." Shen mused, side eyeing Banjo from the corner of the deck. "Are you confident you'll be capable of such a thing on your own?"

"By myself or with a thousand men, it wouldn't make a difference. I'm sure you know that." Banjo turned, walking towards the railing, and with one arm, grabbed the railing and hopped over it, onto the dock below. A motorcycle had been left right there on the dock, a favor he asked of his friend a few days prior.

Sliding his helmet onto his head, he stared up at the moon one final time before seating himself on the motorcycle and revving up the engine. Just as he was about to speed into the nation, as devoid as the sky itself, Shen spoke.

"Hey. I meant it when I said I had underestimated you. So don't let yourself get dragged into hell just yet. You still have work to do."

"Of course." Banjo nodded at Shen, who nodded back, before turning and retreating to the sleeping quarters, leaving Banjo speeding off into the night, and deeper into the mysterious, deserted country.

Despite the darkness surrounding him everywhere Banjo went, he sped off towards his goal without a hitch. It was a trait of his that he never did understand, but whenever he had a goal, he always knew where to go, what to do, and what to say. Everything else, all of the means needed to reach his destination, they were not of importance to him.

As time ticked, the abandoned empty houses Banjo passed by and lightless lamps became but a blur, and before he knew it, he arrived before a gigantic glass maze, encased in a single, broke down building. He reached for his helmet, pulling it off his head, and smiled up at the building, sliding off the motorcycle and walked towards the doors of the glass maze.

As he reached for the knob, he could feel malicious intent, anger, and most recognizable of all, desperation, collecting around the building like a thick mist...yet he did not hesitate for a second, turning the knob, and letting the darkness welcome him.

As he walked into the house, everywhere he gazed he could see mirrors, reflecting him at every angle. He slid his hands into his pockets and smirked. "Nice place you've got, Devil. You must really like looking at that butt-ugly face of yours, eh?"

As he walked through the glass maze which turned and twisted throughout the building, he could feel the mirrors calling out too him. It's as if they not only reflected his very image, but the essence of his very soul. He cleared his throat, looking around as he walked through the glass maze. "Let's cut the child games and get to business, huh?"

He smirked, and then, in the corner of his eye he could feel his own reflection flicker, going from normal and perfect to twisted and dark. "..." He shook his head and continued to walk through the maze, but for some reason, he could feel that strange intuition which he relied on starting to fade, as if it had been blotted out by the darkness.

Continuing to walk, he felt the destination completely vanish from his mind, and he became more and more unsure. And then, as he continued to walk despite this, he bumped into a mirror standing before him, almost knocking him to the floor because of how caught off guard he was.

Shaking his head, he cursed and started to get up. Then, he felt two hands reach out from the mirror and grasp him by the shoulder. In his reflection he could see himself, or a reflection of himself pulling its head out of the mirror.

Its eyes bore into his soul. "Where are you going?"

He narrowed his eyes, shoving the reflection off of him and turning in the opposite direction, his pace quickening. What the hell is going on? He thought to himself. I can't see it anymore! The flow! My goal! If I don't figure out what the hell is going on with me, I might actually lose myself here!

Banjo's pace quickened again as he felt an ominous aura behind him. Keeping his pace fast and sharp, he ignored the arms pulling themselves out from the mirrors behind him as he walked and slowly stretching towards him beyond human limits.

"To higher and higher heights? To reach that grand goal of yours?" The reflections called out to him.

Banjo's pace quickened.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Yes...as long as you have that grand dream of yours, you can't see everyone else. Don't you see?"

Banjo nearly avoided bumping into a mirror and backed up, realizing that reflected in the mirror was not his own reflection, but a pile of bodies made of wax, with Banjo, also made of wax, standing at the top, staring at the sun, and slowly but surely, melting away.

"Don't you see the pile of bodies underneath your feet?"

Banjo spun around, and shot to the side, barely avoiding the arms which slammed into the mirror, causing the glass to shatter and fly through the air like shrapnel.

"Of course, you don't. Nothing else matters to you, as long as you have your dream. Not even your own sister. Not even yourself."

Banjo's pace quickened.

He hit a dead end. Get it the fuck together Banjo! You need to see it again! The dream! The path! If you don't, it all ends here! Everything will be for nothing! Get yourself together you dumbass! He thought furiously as he saw in his reflection, himself, standing helplessly as the thousands of hands approached him from behind, reaching out, ready to yank him into the darkness...and then they disappeared.

Instead, in the reflection, Banjo saw his own silhouette, with a slender, red smile on its face reach out, clenching its fist and breaking the mirror it was trapped in. As the shards of mirror fell to the ground, streams of darkness rose from the fragments, wrapping and gathering around each other before forming his silhouette in physical form.

Banjo glanced behind him, only to see that a mirror had formed behind him, and as he turned back, he was met with a devastating jab to the temple, the force of the strike slamming Banjo into the mirror behind him, the shards of glass cutting at him as he fell to the floor.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I didn't think this through. Who is this guy? Where is the devil? What's going on? Why can't I see? Banjo felt his thoughts spiral into a stream of insanity as the silhouette towered above him with bloody fists, a droplet of blood sprinkling onto the floor every now on then. "COME OUT ALREADY YOU D-"

The silhouette lunged forward in an attempt to knee Banjo in the stomach, who in response, quickly rolled to the side and got to his feet, shooting towards the Silhouette...but from the mirror behind Banjo shot an arm, grabbing Banjo by the shoulder as the silhouette's leg shot forward like black lightning, slamming into Banjo's stomach.

A waterfall of blood heaved down from Banjo's face as he collapsed onto the floor, holding his stomach. NO! IT CAN'T! IT WON'T! I CAN'T DIE! IT CAN'T END HERE! NOT AFTER EVERYTHING. Banjo slowly got to his feet, putting his hands up and getting into what could hardly be called a fighting stance. He stepped forward, pulling his fist forward and trying to punch the Silhouette, who made no attempt to avoid this.

"You are the biggest fool. You told others not to lie when you'd been lying this entire time. You aren't a god, or even a remarkable person. You're a piece of wax that tried to touch the sun. You are utter trash, and that is how you will remain for the rest of your life." The silhouette now gently took Banjo's outstretched arm and lifted it's other hand, before chopping the middle of Banjo's right arm with a savage force, snapping the bone as if it was made of wax.

"Not like you have much of a life left anyways. You're going to disappear, and no one will remember you." The silhouette bent down, its arms crossed behind it's back, and smiled at Banjo, who barely had the energy left to think.

Is it over? Banjo thought weakly.

Is the journey over? Already?

I guess that I was never chosen to begin with.

I forgot my place.

Once trash.

Banjo remembered a younger version of himself. A child, who's only home was the streets, forced to steal, fight, and lie every day to survive.

Always trash.

Banjo's eyes started to close. And then as he felt his consciousness fade, the last thought he could muster was :

Wait. But even in a world like this. Trash could become

Trash could become

Trash could become

He watched as the silhouette tower over him, sneering nastily, and he raised his hands before clasping them together, before swinging it down in the form of a hammer fist to the skull.

And then he felt the darkness drive back.

He felt light fill the room.

Trash can become...

Banjo slowly got to his feet, feeling his wounds start to close up, and his energy began to replenish. He opened up his eyes, staring down at his silhouette, cowering on the floor.

Something great.

He thought as he briefly glanced around the mirror maze, and yet, every mirror he saw reflected absolutely nothing, only pitch darkness.

"You're right."

The Silhouette slowly raised its head.

"I'm nothing remarkable. I'm a piece of trash that doesn't know his place. I'm a hypocrite, a fool, a liar, a narrow-minded dimwit. That much is true." Banjo gazed up at the ceiling.

"But that makes me strong. Back when I was a child, and had nothing but my sister, I fought, and stole, and lied. I was the epitome of trash, and I used what I had learned among trash to rise. I became what I am today." He looked down at his hands.

"I don't need a sixth sense. Even if I can't see my dream, I'll keep on moving forward."

He took a step forward.

"I'll use all the evil methods I have to reach my destination."

He took another step forward towards the shriveling silhouette.

"Even if I'm just a figure of wax who longed to touch the sun."

He took a step forward.

"I won't melt until I reach it."

He took another step forward.

"The sun."

He extended a hand towards the shivering, pathetic, weak silhouette, and rested his palm on its hand, glaring down at it with the intense and weight of his dream, the light of his goal immersing the silhouette in light and causing the silhouette to explode into a cloud of darkness that was slowly washed away by the blinding light, leaving Banjo standing there.

"Well?" Banjo called out to the devil. "Don't waste my time any further. Reveal yourself, Devil."

"Pan." A voice called out behind him.

Banjo whipped around, glaring at what he saw behind him: a boy with golden hair and sinister red eyes glared down at him, sitting cozily on top of one of the mirrors.

"The name's Pan." Pan smirked. "Cear it into your memory."