Time has become meaningless the more i marched. In the Abyss, every moment feels like an eternity. Darkness surrounds me, an endless void that presses in from all sides. My body is weak, ravaged by hunger and thirst, and my mind is fraying at the edges. Each step is a battle, the ground beneath my feet rough and unyielding.

Then, a faint sound breaks through the oppressive silence. The sound of water. I stumble toward it, desperation fueling my steps. I don't care if it's clean or tainted; I just need something to keep me going. I fall to my knees at the edge of a small pool, cupping the water in my hands and drinking greedily. The cool liquid soothes my parched throat, but my relief is short-lived.

The hallucinations start again this time it's worst and more vivid than ever before. I see my father, his stern eyes boring into me with disappointment. His tan skin and bruised hands from years of hard work are a stark reminder of the sacrifices he made. "You failed us, Su," he says, his voice filled with anger. "You always took everything for granted."

Saqian and Taqian are there too, their faces twisted with accusation. "You were supposed to protect us," they cry out in unison. "You were our big brother, but you were always too selfish, too weak."

My sister, Hana, appears next, her emerald eyes shimmering with sorrow. "How could you let this happen?" she asks, her voice trembling. "We trusted you, Su. We believed in you." Her words hit me like a dagger to the heart, and I remember the day she was taken. The day the bastards came and... My fists clench as the memory resurfaces, the pain and guilt nearly unbearable. Hana's assault is the most painful memory, a constant reminder of my failure to protect her.

Their voices echo in my mind, blending together in a haunting chorus. "Why didn't you save us, Su? Why were you so weak?"

I try to shut them out, but their voices grow louder, more insistent. My father steps forward, his presence dominating the space around me. "You always hated our life, didn't you? You never appreciated what you had."

A memory surfaces, unbidden. I'm back in the village, complaining about our simple meals and the hard work on the farm. My father's face is lined with exhaustion, yet he never wavered in his duties. I remember snapping at him, telling him I wanted more from life, that I deserved better. The look of hurt in his eyes is a wound that never healed.

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"You were never thankful," my father's voice accuses. "You always wanted more, never satisfied with what you had."

I collapse to the ground, tears streaming down my face. "I'm sorry," I whisper, but the words feel hollow. My own self-loathing engulfs me, drowning out everything else.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears before me. In the impenetrable darkness, it's the only thing I can see clearly. It's me, or at least, it looks like me. My exact physical appearance, but with an aura of malice.

"Who are you?" I shout, fear gripping my heart.

"I am you," the shadowy figure says, its voice a twisted echo of my own. "I am the ungrateful, spoiled version of you. The part of you that always hated your life in the village."

"No," I murmur, backing away. "You're not real."

"I am as real as your regrets," it retorts. "You never appreciated your family, your life. You always wanted more. You were weak, and you still are."

The figure steps closer, its presence overwhelming. I feel my sanity slipping away, the darkness within me threatening to consume what's left of my mind. "You were always a burden, always ungrateful. You deserved to be here, alone and lost."

"Stop it," I scream, clutching my head. "Just stop!"

The figure sneers. "You can't escape me. I am you."

Rage and despair boil within me. I lunge at the shadowy figure, my hands wrapping around its throat. "I am not you!" I scream, tightening my grip. "I am not weak!"

The figure struggles, its form flickering and shifting under my hands. "You... can't... escape... yourself..." it chokes out.

I hesitate, the weight of its words sinking in. "Ah, it seems I have to die for my revenge... so be it," I whisper to myself. With renewed determination, I tighten my grip, my mind set on eradicating this filthy unbearable weakness within me.

With a final surge of strength, I squeeze until the figure dissipates into nothingness. I collapse, my body shaking with sobs. As my vision clears, I see a small crack in the Abyss, a beam of light piercing through the darkness.

I stagger toward it, the light growing brighter. Each step feels like a battle, but I refuse to give up. I push through the crack, emerging into the blinding light of the outside world. I see the old man standing there, his face impassive. Relief washes over me, and I collapse at his feet, the darkness of the Abyss still haunting my mind.

Before the darkness of unconsciousness takes over, I hear the old man's voice. "You survived the Abyss. Perhaps you are worthy after all."

The ordeal has stripped away layers of weakness, exposing raw determination and resilience beneath my soul. Each trial, each confrontation with my own demons, has honed my resolve. I may still bear the scars of the Abyss, both physical and emotional, but they serve as a testament to my survival, and the beginning of my revenge.