I had already died. When, or how, I couldn't say. All I knew was this new life, this borrowed body, and the alien power coursing through me—they didn't belong to me. Not really. To be honest, I didn't even know who I was. Where I came from, what mattered to me, or why any of this should mean something. There were only two words circling incessantly in my mind, urging me to acknowledge them.

Eryxion.

The moment I mouthed it in my thoughts, the thing hanging from my neck pulsed faintly. The rune. I couldn't remember ever having seen it before, yet somehow, I recognized it. Eryxion—the name of this gleaming, volatile shard embedded in my collar. It carried the essence of thunder and lightning, wild and unrestrained, much like the thoughts in my head.

The second word was quieter, subtler, but it carried a weight I couldn't ignore.

Lycoris.

It came unbidden, instinctual. A name. My name? Perhaps. But it didn't spark anything familiar, didn't anchor me to any memory of a life before this one. Lycoris. It sat there in my mind like a placeholder, something left behind by whatever force had dragged me back into existence.

I knew where I was, at least. In this game, this cruel, endless simulation of survival. I knew about the runes, the levels, the players clawing their way up a ladder that led only to more suffering. And I knew one undeniable truth: I had died. But why, or for whom? That knowledge eluded me, like smoke slipping through my fingers.

It seemed whoever—or whatever—had brought me back didn't think I needed those answers. My purpose was simple: play the game. That was it.

I let my head fall back against the fractured wall behind me, the jagged edges digging into my skin. The name "Lycoris" hovered faintly above my thoughts, teasing me with the possibility of identity. But I didn't like it. It felt foreign, hollow, like a suit that didn't quite fit.

Turning my head slightly, I looked at the guy slumped beside me. He'd been eager to play, hadn't he? I supposed I'd won. He wasn't moving. Probably just taking a nap. Though, to be fair, I hadn't really appreciated the bullet he'd put through my chest earlier. Still, I'd healed quickly. That much, at least, I could be grateful for.

I'd been sitting here for what felt like hours, waiting for him to wake up. I didn't know why, but the stillness didn't bother me. I was smiling, almost without realizing it. My heart felt light—too light for someone who'd just clawed their way back from death. It was as if I had everything I could ever want in this moment, right here in the ruins of a shattered world.

The air was thick with ash and smoke, the skyline jagged with broken buildings and skeletal remains of a city that had long since fallen. But there was something oddly beautiful about it all. Maybe it was the quiet. Or maybe it was just that, for the first time in this second life, I didn't feel like I had to move.

So I stayed, leaning against the crumbling wall, watching the smoke curl into the horizon, and let myself enjoy the view of chaos.

As if to lighten the mood further, the sun peeked over the horizon. The rain had stopped, and the clouds scattered hastily, retreating to unveil the first rays of sunlight. The light broke through the gray, painting the ruins in a soft golden hue. For a moment, it almost felt peaceful—if not for the blood, the gore, and the bodies strewn across the battlefield.

The sunlight grazed the skin of the man slumped beside me. He twitched, his body jerking awake as though the warmth had shocked him. His eyes fluttered open, blinking against the light. At first, he looked disoriented, his hands trembling as he regained awareness. The rune on his neck pulsed faintly, its glow healing ever so slightly with time.

The moment he noticed me sitting nearby, his demeanor shifted. He scrambled to his feet, retreating several paces until there was a safer distance between us. His breathing quickened, and his lips moved as he struggled to form words.

"Why... why am I still alive?" he stammered, his voice shaky as he instinctively summoned a thin sword of stone into his trembling hand.

I didn't know how to answer. Or rather, I hadn't prepared one. But before I could think, before I could even form a coherent thought, the words spilled from my mouth effortlessly, as though they'd always been there.

"Well, because you didnt die."

He didn't seem reassured. His grip on the stone sword tightened as his expression twisted in confusion. "What do you mean? Why didn't you kill me? What do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice cracking.

"Why should I kill you?" I countered, my tone even.

He hesitated, clearly thrown by my response. "You—" he started but faltered. I could see the gears turning in his head, trying to make sense of something that defied explanation.

I sighed. "Look," I began, my voice softer this time, "I'm not who you think I am. This body, this power—they're not mine. I only gained consciousness recently, not long before you decided to put a bullet in my chest."

His confusion deepened. He pointed to himself, brows furrowed. "Do you know who I am?"

I shook my head.

"Maki? Zara? Kael?" he pressed, naming them as though testing for a spark of recognition.

Again, I shook my head.

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, staring at me with furrowed brows. I could see the weight of unspoken questions behind his eyes. Finally, I broke the silence, attempting to ease the tension with a smirk. "Hey, look, it was fun regardless, right? I mean, you and I are both standing here, no injuries. All's well that ends well, right?"

Stolen story; please report.

For some reason, he exhaled sharply—a sigh that sounded halfway between exasperation and relief.

"So you're not the guy who came to the cave before," he said, more a statement than a question.

I shook my head once more.

He scratched his chin, muttering under his breath, his thoughts clearly racing. "Just before I shot you in the chest... huh." He looked at me again, and there was a spark of understanding in his eyes. "I get it now."

His words surprised me. Relief flickered across my face, and for the first time since this strange new life began, I felt something close to hope.

"You do?" I asked cautiously, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

He nodded, a thoughtful look in his eye, though he kept the stone sword in his hand. Whatever realization he'd come to, it was enough to calm the storm within him—if only for now.

He sat down, his body finally succumbing to its injuries. His movements were heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and pain, but it was the grim expression on his face that caught my attention. It was a look of someone carrying more than just physical wounds—a burden far deeper than flesh. I didn't know what had happened to him, but I doubted any words of mine could lighten his mood.

"So, what now?" I asked, breaking the silence despite my better judgment.

He didn't answer. The moments stretched on, the stillness interrupted only by the faint hum of life returning to the ruins around us. As the sun climbed higher, insects began to stir, and distant bird calls echoed through the air—a stark contrast to the blood-soaked scene we were still a part of.

"If you aren't the one who got them killed," he said finally, his voice low and measured, "then I have nothing to do with you anymore. Not that I could do anything to you with the power gap being so... obvious."

His words were blunt, but there was a raw honesty in them. Whatever he had endured, it was clear that he was broken, perhaps even beyond repair. He stared at the ground as if looking for answers in the dirt and debris.

"So, what will you do now?" I asked again, hoping to draw him out of his thoughts.

This time, he glanced up briefly, his gaze heavy with an unspoken question. "What would you do?" he asked, throwing the question back at me.

I blinked. Of course, I had no idea what to do. I mean, I'd just opened my eyes, been attacked, fought this guy to a standstill, and somehow ended up here. I didn't even know whose body this was, or if its previous owner was dead. I didn't know their story, their goals, or even their name.

My eyes wandered to the sky. The clouds had cleared completely, and a few birds soared in the distance, their silhouettes cutting through the pale blue. A strange sense of clarity washed over me.

"Maybe I'll try the game," I said at last.

That got his attention. He turned his head slightly, his curiosity evident. "You know about the game?" he asked.

"Well," I replied, "I did belong to some level of this game in my... previous life."

He stared at me, the faintest glimmer of surprise flashing in his tired eyes. "So, you're reincarnated from within this game?" he asked, his tone sharpening with interest.

"Looks that way," I said, shrugging. "Though it's not like I remember much."

"Interesting," he muttered, almost to himself. Then, after a pause: "You never played this game before?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't remember anything about it, apart from a few basic things."

His brow furrowed slightly as he processed this. "So... you didn't have this kind of power before?"

"Not that I remember," I replied.

"What about your fighting style? Your battle experience?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Instincts, I guess," I said.

His lips quirked, almost imperceptibly, into what might have been the ghost of a smile. "Interesting," he said again, leaning back against the wall. He seemed to be pondering something, though he didn't share it.

For the first time since our fight, the tension between us felt less like a storm waiting to break and more like the calm after. It was tentative, but it was something.

Time stretched on as the aftermath of the rain began to fade. The sun warmed the broken ground, casting long shadows over the shattered ruins. The air smelled of damp earth and blood, a strange mix of renewal and destruction.

I didn't know why, but the urge to climb the game burned inside me.

Why?

To become stronger? Strength felt meaningless. To find out who I was before? I didn't care enough to dig up a past I couldn't even remember. To find someone? Maybe.

But the reality was clear: climbing wouldn't be easy. The path ahead would demand more than I had now. I couldn't do it alone.

The thought unsettled me.

Needing someone felt... strange. Vulnerable. There was something about it that clashed with the quiet resolve that had been building inside me since I first opened my eyes in this strange existence. But even resolve needed more than just willpower. It needed support. A hand to catch you when you stumbled.

I turned to the man beside me. His bruised and battered body spoke of a spirit that had been tested and broken, yet somehow, he endured. His face, despite its grim expression, carried a hint of unshakable resolve.

"What's your name?" I asked.

He frowned, clearly displeased by the question. His gaze dropped to the ground, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. But finally, he murmured, "Garron."

Garron? The name felt heavy, burdened by something I couldn't place. It didn't resonate with me, but I let it pass. Names were just labels, after all.

"I guess you really don't have anything left to do," I said, attempting to break the tension. "Maybe you could try playing the game. You're pretty strong—I can tell."

His face twitched, annoyance flickering in his eyes. Was it at my words? Or at the situation? Maybe he hated the sound of me even breathing in his presence. I ignored it and extended my hand toward him.

"Why not help me climb the game, Garry?" I said, testing a nickname as if it might lighten the moment.

The truth was, I didn't just want his help. I needed it. Whatever this game demanded, I could already feel its weight pressing on my shoulders, and I wasn't sure how far I could carry it alone.

Suddenly, a notification flashed in my mind, crisp and undeniable:

[Party Invite Sent to Garry.]

He didn't move. Head bowed, he seemed lost in thought, his shoulders tense with the weight of indecision. The silence stretched, each second feeling longer than the last.

What was he thinking? Was he weighing my offer, or was he remembering something—or someone? A past that had broken him, much like this world seemed to break everything in its path?

And what about me? Why was I even reaching out to this man? What did I hope to gain?

Maybe it was selfishness. Maybe it was desperation. Or maybe, just maybe, it was that small, quiet voice in the back of my mind whispering that this journey didn't have to be walked alone.

I kept my hand extended, even as doubt crept in. Maybe he didn't want to team up. He was strong enough to climb the game solo—perhaps he didn't see the point in partnering with me.

I was just about to drop my hand when he reached out and clasped it. His grip was firm despite his injuries.

"I was planning on climbing the levels after you died," he admitted, his voice carrying a mix of bitterness and resignation. "I mean, you did die. But after this humiliating defeat, I don't think I can survive on my own. Guess I'll see how far you go."

A new notification appeared in my mind:

[Garry has accepted your party invite.][Garry joined your party.]

For the first time, I felt something close to hope.

Garron didn't seem like the type who would stick around out of kindness. I could tell that this partnership was born more out of necessity than camaraderie. But that was fine. Partnerships didn't need trust or friendship. They just needed a shared goal.

As I glanced at the ruined city around us, I found myself wondering if this game would break us, too.

No.

Not yet.

We would climb this game together, no matter how steep the levels ahead. One step at a time, through blood, through ruin, through the ashes of whatever this world threw at us. Together, we would face the impossible.

For now, that was enough.