I felt it... yes. I thought it... this Void within Me. But wasn't this Void me? I didn't know. In fact, what did I know? I no longer knew. Am I this soul? This Void? Or neither? Or both? What was the boundary between this Void and me? Was there even one? No answers. No knowledge. A mind totally devoid of knowledge. Perhaps the soul could answer...

No, she'd never say it. Since even she needs to complete it. She had forgotten her own origin. Had I lived that long? I needed to understand what my identity was. What was an identity, anyway? No one could have answered me. No one had the answer. I was convinced I was much older than I thought.

It could be Void and not me. Or the question made no sense at all. Especially if I could only be Me with the existence of the Void. My only certainty was that the Void protected me from outside interference. And that alone reassured me. I felt protected from everything in the presence of the Void. The Void was soothing and warm. I was firmly convinced that this Void was my Ideal. The union of my soul with this Void to finally become a complete Soul.

And I could think no more before a world of pain assailed me. Nothing else deserved my attention but this state of perpetual suffering. This intense burning perpetrated on my soul was my only experience. I could see that my Void had failed. It didn't contain enough strength to counter this invader. Even if it could hinder the invader and prevent it from extending its hold over my entire soul.

I didn't know how long it lasted, but I no longer felt any pain. In fact, I felt nothing at all. It was nothingness! A nightmarish sensation of non-being, non-soul, and, above all, non-emptiness. I didn't want to continue in this Void, but I also understood that suffering would return when I left it.

My mind had surely dissociated me to the extreme to counter this suffering. To stop perceiving it and avoid irreparable damage to my psyche. My mind was already overwhelmed enough with the course of events so far. Fortunately, my perception of time and my consciousness were entirely altered.

So much so that I didn't immediately notice when I woke up. Nor when I had opened all my senses to my surroundings. It took me a while to understand who and where I was. And even longer to notice the healing of my body. Who was responsible for this? The Void or the mysterious entity. I had no idea. What I did know, however, was that my immediate desire was to flee this place.

So I set off, grabbing the book. Of course, curiosity dictated that I should see what was inside. I had opened and inspected it thoroughly, only to learn nothing new. Everything was perfectly illegible. Whatever page I visited. Another strange thing was the impression that the number of pages was more significant than the edge of the book suggested. So I needed help to pick it up.

As I walked along, I was very apprehensive. First, I wondered if my intuition was correct and if I could now leave the room. This doubt alone was enough to make me nauseous.

Then, these various questions about the bodies on the ceiling, the light seeming to come from nowhere, the book, and the latches questioned me. They reminded me of the harsh reality that I had no knowledge of this world. And, more importantly, of myself. I no longer knew my past, my identity. I was a virgin. And perhaps that was part of the reason for my affection for the Void.

And finally, seeing those rotting remains and dried-up blood didn't do anything for me. No feelings whatsoever. I was ashamed of it. After all, becoming insensitive didn't fill me with pride, quite the contrary. I was afraid of becoming a monster.

But even this fear was superficial, not really felt as if a barrier existed between us. I knew it was due to my mind's protection, but I feared I could no longer deactivate it. And it was with all these thoughts, I left this room, overlooking an unbearable sight and smell that nonetheless elicited no reaction.

And then... my apprehension left me, and surprise rose within me. I was thrilled, for it was the same corridors, no longer the same sights, no longer the same smells, no longer the same noise. Everything had changed. My desperate intuition was correct; the book was the key. Even if I didn't know how it had achieved such a feat. My interest in understanding this supernatural force was heightened.

Nevertheless, I was deeply disturbed by the scene before me. Corpses, again and again, as far as the eye could see, so many that I couldn't even hope to estimate their number. All the more so, as these and those in the room were in an advanced state of decomposition, far less fresh than when I first awoke. I was curious to know how long I'd been unconscious, even if I couldn't come up with an answer.

Of course, accompanying this was a slightly viscous blood coating almost every surface. And I could feel it on my feet, bothering me with every step and slowing me down slightly. I thought the smell and the visual couldn't be any worse than before, but I was sadly mistaken.

Especially as it didn't get any better as I walked. At least there was only the sound of my footsteps. I should have found that worrying, but it wasn't as bad as the sizzling sound of lamps threatening to plunge everything into an overpowering darkness at any moment.

As I traversed this endless corridor, everything was as grey as the rest. Although there was a little variety, the geometric patterns on the walls were a composite of several shades of gray. Disturbing shapes that made you nauseous just looking at them. I could only doubt the sanity of the designer of these drawings.

I also passed open doors leading to rooms that were just as grey, although with variations. The shade of grey correlates with the general layout of the rooms and the type of geometric shapes embedded in the walls. The most likely hypothesis, in my opinion, was that the rooms had been classified according to the activities carried out inside.

Occasionally, I would enter these rooms. These rooms contained many devices and tools whose purpose was unknown to me. Geometric shapes, present throughout the room, barely discernible because of the blood, seemed to gather around them. And these devices, gleaming a bewitching pearly white, were indeed emitting energy from this web of geometric shapes.

It was only a hypothesis I could hardly verify, given my insufficient knowledge and the fact that the shapes didn't emit any light. The latter could invalidate my entire theory. However, I was partly right.

The forms themselves didn't transmit mana; they converted mana into information, into code, intending to modify the "laws of the world". Mana only changes the relationships between the different planes of existence and particles, so it cannot override the fundamental laws of this world. It can only modify the rules derived from them. But let's get on with it!

Exploration of these rooms yielded little conclusive. In addition to the tools already mentioned, there were sheets of paper, parchments, books, and screens. The latter surprised me, and I wondered how information could scroll across them. At the same time, my instincts told me it wasn't anything fabulous. Had I seen screens before I got amnesia?

One thing I was sure of was that I couldn't understand any of the symbols of what might be a language, and that was a huge problem. Would I be able to speak a language if I couldn't understand the written word? Nothing could be further from the truth. Moreover, understanding this language would have enabled me to learn more about this place.

But that wasn't the most disconcerting thing; the most disturbing was the lack of windows. None of the walls in any of the rooms contained any. And the same was true of the corridor. The outside hardly existed in this place. The most logical thing would have been for me to be in some kind of underground base. As if I'd known at that moment just how wrong I was. Do the notions of outside and inside really make sense after all?

And so it was that I spent an interminable time in these corridors, these doors, these rooms, these putrid bodies, this abundant blood, these staircases. Yes, the structure I was navigating had staircases. In a way, it had floors. Bad news for me, but I had yet to learn which floor I was on, whether close to the front door or even approaching it.

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I hoped my expedition wouldn't drag on forever, as seeing so many unknown things gave off an intense atmosphere of unease and tension. Which invariably wanted me to leave this place forever. Not to mention the rotting corpses and blood, which further dampened the atmosphere. And let's not forget the multiple traumas I'd suffered, which had almost cost me my life.

As my thoughts drifted, I remembered my unexpected survival. My body had been repaired, but I don't know how. Immediately, I realized something. Not the means but the price of rebuilding my body. But first, I had to confirm my suspicion.

I began to walk again, paying more attention to my body: its speed, endurance, recovery time, and resistance. And when the opportunity arose, I tried to push open the doors as best I could. The results were precise: my body had become a little weaker physically.

Of course, I couldn't bring myself to accept this truth. But the facts were clear: my body needed more recovery time, I got tired quicker, I had to be more careful not to injure myself, I walked a little slower, I got aches and pains more efficiently, and so on.

My plan to extricate myself from a delicate situation by going to the brink of death was falling apart. I could only do it as a last resort if I had no other option. I couldn't use this phenomenon to my advantage, especially as I didn't know how far the physical weakening could go. It could lead to death, and that conclusion was anything but pleasing.

After this realization, I continued for hours, days, or even longer. It seemed endless, and I wondered how big this underground complex was. At least some of the corridors were less full of bodies and blood, and my senses were delighted. So, it was a monotonous journey, with classes, blood, unfamiliar tools, and indecipherable symbols accompanying my daily routine. Until...

Until I came across a strange trapdoor on the floor. It took me a few tries to see it correctly because of all the blood on top, but I wasn't dreaming: there was a changing element. I was a little delighted. You had to understand me: all I'd seen lately was a monotonous landscape to drive you crazy. And if I hadn't been emotionally numb, I really would have become one.

I thought about it for a while, and once I was prepared for any potential danger, I headed for the giant silver-grey trapdoor. The temptation was still too great. I needed a slight change of environment. At least to partially unlock my emotions and get away from this debilitating monotony that was slowly killing me.

I had great difficulty opening this imposing trapdoor, and it took me quite a while before I managed to lift it even a little. At least enough to slide down. Having to hold the trapdoor open with my arms to avoid having my body compressed and crushed was quite an ordeal. So much so that, once the ordeal was over and the tension had subsided, my whole body fell like a puppet cut from its strings.

When my body no longer responded, I tumbled down the stairs, hitting the ground with full force. It was so quick that I didn't realize I'd lost consciousness until I'd woken up. And even then, my first reaction was one of bewilderment and loss.

It reminds me that I had a lot of naive and adorable reactions back then. Let's face it, those days are long gone. Ah, sorry, I got a bit nostalgic with all those memories.

I stood up slowly and looked around. Corridors were so dark that it was difficult to distinguish the exact colorimetry, doors that seemed to open onto the abyss, and a cracked ceiling threatening to collapse at any moment. It could have been a more attractive place to be.

But it was still better than before; there were no half-rotten corpses, and no blood was clotting on every conceivable wall. No, it looked dusty and abandoned from a distance, but otherwise, it was clean. Just the dirt you'd expect.

After giving myself a small dose of courage, I stepped cautiously into this immeasurable darkness. One step after another, one swallow after another, one breath after another, and one heartbeat after another. I was preparing myself because this place could teem with life. After all, wasn't it curious that only this basement so far had no corpses, no blood? I was ready until...

I heard a sudden click, and my eyes went blind. I could no longer see correctly. The change in brightness was too radical. I had to reopen my eyes a little while they adapted to the new environment. I wasted hardly a second trying to identify the culprit. And I was exhausted as the tension inside me dropped.

It was just a street lamp. I paused for a second, bewildered by my knowledge of this object's mechanism I had never seen. I had to come to terms with this half-functioning memory.

Now radiating a yellowish light, the corridors were revealed in all their splendor... or not. Indeed, these corridors, even dustier than I'd thought, were tinged with a charcoal gray bordering half-faded patterns of every hue.

The doors that revealed themselves to me were tinged with silver-grey and intricate, unfinished patterns, leading to equally greyish and sad rooms. The whole place was in a state of serious disrepair. I hesitated to consider that I was in the same place as before. I'd gone from a murder scene to a ruinous setting, having lost all semblance of life long ago.

Inside the rooms were tools, books, and screens, this time extinguished and cracked. The amount of dust was so colossal that I coughed several times. Many half-cracked instruments lay there, and the shapes intertwined around them were in no better condition.

And all the rooms were the same. Nothing seemed usable or transportable. Not that I could have carried much; a massive book was already more than enough for me. Walking along, I also noticed the street lamps flickering on and off. They must be running out of energy, I thought. This environment was really dull and depressing.

At least the smell was bearable. It only smelled of dust and mustiness. The temperature was much fresher and more restful. I'd always loved fresh air; this air was enough to delight my soul and spirit. And it was quite a feat to please both at the same time! My body was the only one that couldn't stand the air, as it sent shivers down my spine.

During my walk, which had lasted only a few hours at most, my faint hope of finding someone else to talk to had been dashed. At least to get some information about where I was and all its mysteries. I could have used the opportunity to find out his reaction to me, at least if I'd previously been sufficiently well-known.

As disappointment washed over me, I saw a light in my current situation. Or rather two, upon inspection of the room. Indeed, I'd just entered a more spacious room than any I'd seen before, and what it held within was thrilling.

Against the charcoal-grey walls, imposing solid stone columns with geometric engravings seemed to glow in a warm, brilliant black... and an eerie, icy white. These two lights were superimposed, and just trying to perceive their secret gave me an intense headache and a deep sense of nausea.

Fortunately, once I was away from the columns, I could catch my breath and recover from this unusual experience. I decided to be more cautious with geometric shapes in the future.

As I resumed my exploration of the room, I could hear a faint, discontinuous crackling sound getting louder and louder. The source was probably to the left of me. I couldn't make it out very well because of the many objects on the floor and the dim lighting in the room. The lamps in the room didn't flicker, but they offered only a subdued light, insufficient for my current needs.

I pushed aside all the tools and avoided stepping on the geometric shapes crawling on the floors and walls. Some of these shapes pulsate with my footsteps. It could be more accurate to say they were awakening from their torpor.

After picking my way through this chaotic room, I saw a person made of skin, wires, and metal with almost no semblance of life left. Almost, since my intuition told me she was still alive. I didn't know whether to listen to it or drag her along with me. In the end, I resolved to take her with me. I could permanently save her after getting out of this place.

As I approached the comatose body, I saw the extent of the damage. Many wires were tangled, damaged, severed, or running in all directions. Her body, in general, was disfigured, as if someone had beaten her until the metal twisted or broke. What's more, the rest of her skin suffered from multiple contusions and deep scratches. I was saddened by these various signs of abuse.

I pulled her along with all my strength. It was very long, and her weight was hefty. In truth, it was me who was very weak. It took me almost as long to pull her towards my future exit as it did to walk from the trapdoor to this room!

I told you about an exit! And yes, the second surprise in this room was a gigantic floor-to-ceiling door at the very center of the room. Its apparent immoderation was matched only by the mystical light.

There, white and black light poured down in equal quantities from the columns. Forming a gray light at the border of worlds, between bright and sinister, between warm and icy. Getting close to this light was manageable – on the contrary.

The door begged me to use it. It wanted to become useful, not end up alone. It tried to realize its goal. It seemed a strange thing to say, but I sensed, at least intuitively, its intention.

I decided to have faith in this intuition. These hunches had never let me down, and it wasn't as if I had any other ideas to get out of this macabre place. I was tense and crossed my fingers that no last-minute misfortune would befall me. I took one last breath and approached the door.

The area around the door lit up and came back to life. I didn't know where the sensors were, but they had to be in perfect condition. Generally speaking, the machines in this room look better. They may be higher quality, or the remaining energy was dedicated to this room's maintenance. This could explain why the outside street lamps were flickering incessantly.

In any case, the moment had come, and my hand was just a few centimeters from my door as I struggled to calm a remnant of apprehension and excitement. And I opened the door, revealing a fog of light, dark grey, or perhaps both. I couldn't make it out, so changeable was the grey.

And off I went into this capricious coloring, soon free of this stifling, chaotic, and malevolent space, taking with me a thoroughly dubious book and, I hope, a future comrade.

Could I survive in this world with these two elements? I didn't know, but at least at that moment, I could, for the first time, enjoy a positive feeling that wasn't linked to my Void.

My naivety was at an all-time high back then, for nothing is that simple, and I was certainly more at liberty, at least for a while, in this gloomy place than in the madness of the outside world. Nevertheless, I don't regret that scene. In fact, I cherish all the cheerful scenes where I could sincerely believe in a reality to which I was totally disconnected.

In any case, this moment closed the doors of my innocence, forcing me to confront this world and the System, for better or worse...