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The weight of the realization sat heavily on my chest as I stared at the stone monument—the so-called dungeon gate. My knuckles still throbbed, the blood seeping from fresh cuts and staining the intricate carvings. I didn’t care. My mind was a whirlwind, every thought spiraling into darker places.

A different world.

The phrase circled endlessly in my head, refusing to fade. It wasn’t just the words—it was the implications, the undeniable truth. Everything I’d ever known, every connection, every place, was gone. Not just distant, but unreachable. A chasm too wide to cross, no matter how far I pushed forward.

fuuu

I took a shaky step back from the gate, my legs heavier with every move. The chill of the clearing’s air brushed against my sweat-drenched skin, a stark contrast to the fire building in my chest. Anger, frustration, and grief clawed at me, threatening to pull me under.

"Keep it together," I muttered hoarsely. My voice sounded foreign, weak. "Not here. Not now."

But the words did little to ground me. I turned away from the gate, retreating into the forest until the trees surrounded me like a protective wall. Only then did I stop to take a breath, slumping against the trunk of an ancient tree.

The forest here felt different. Unlike the gnarled and twisted horrors I’d walked through before, these trees were tall and majestic, their branches forming a canopy that let in just enough sunlight to bathe the ground in a soft glow. A brook bubbled gently nearby, it's clear water winding through moss-covered rocks. It was peaceful—almost unnervingly so.

I let my pack slide off my shoulders and dropped it onto the ground. My swords followed, placed carefully within arm’s reach. I couldn’t risk being caught unprepared, even in this calm.

The first step was to build a fire. I gathered wood and arranged it into a neat stack, striking flint until the flames caught. The crackling sound was soothing, and as the warmth spread, some of the tension in my shoulders began to ease. Sitting by the fire, I pulled out the meager supplies left in my pack: a bit of dried meat, some fish I’d caught earlier, and a handful of foraged berries.

Skewering a fish, I held it over the flames, watching as its silver skin browned and curled. The smell was rich and smoky, a rare comfort in this world of constant dread. But even as I ate, the food barely registered. My thoughts were elsewhere.

Night crept in slowly, the sky fading from orange to deep indigo. Stars emerged, brighter and sharper than I’d ever seen before. They stretched across the heavens in constellations I didn’t recognize, their unfamiliarity a painful reminder of how far I was from home.

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For the first time since arriving here, I let myself feel the full weight of my isolation.

My family. My friends. Every familiar face, every comforting place—it was all gone, ripped away without warning or reason. The firelight danced across my face as my eyes stung with unshed tears.

I clenched my hands into fists, but it did nothing to stop the wave of emotion building inside me. It broke like a dam, and before I knew it, tears streamed down my face. Silent at first, then harder, until my shoulders shook with the force of it.

The forest stayed quiet, offering no judgment. The fire crackled softly, the only sound in the stillness.

When the tears finally stopped, I felt hollow, like the act of crying had drained the very energy from my soul. But the ache in my chest was lighter now, bearable.

“I’m still here,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. The words felt like a lifeline. “I’m still alive.”

Morning came with a faint golden light filtering through the canopy. The brook’s gentle sound greeted me as I stirred, my muscles stiff from a night on the ground.

I stretched, shaking off the lingering grogginess, and began my usual routine.

Push-ups, stretches, shadow drills with my swords—it was muscle memory now, a necessary ritual to keep my body sharp and my mind focused. After a light meal of berries and dried meat, I inspected my gear. Every strap, every blade, every piece of armor—I couldn’t afford to let anything fail me.

The runic fragment’s pull was sharper now, its faint hum almost insistent. It didn’t just tug at me physically; it resonated in my thoughts, a constant reminder of the path ahead.

“Back to the gate,” I said aloud, the words steadying me. I strapped on my gear, sheathed my swords, and set off.

The forest seemed friendlier this time. Or maybe I was just more attuned to its rhythm, the way its shadows danced and its light shifted. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and greenery. But the unease in my chest never fully left. My steps were careful, deliberate, my hand never straying far from my weapons.

When I reached the clearing, the gate stood exactly as I’d left it. Its imposing stone frame towered over the trees, the carvings on its surface pulsing faintly in the sunlight. I approached it slowly, every step deliberate.

This time, there was no anger, no desperate screams for answers. Just a quiet determination.

I placed a hand on the cold stone, its surface rough under my fingertips. The runic fragment in my pouch flared to life, its energy syncing with the gate in a hum that reverberated through my body.

“I don’t know what’s waiting for me in there,” I said softly, my voice carrying only as far as the clearing. “But I’ll face it. One step at a time.”

The air seemed to shift, growing heavier with a tangible energy. The carvings on the gate glowed brighter, their faint hum rising into a low, resonant vibration. The ground beneath me trembled, and a sharp wind tore through the clearing, rustling the trees like a warning.

I stepped back, gripping the fragment tightly as the gate’s energy built to a crescendo. The light from the carvings burst outward, blinding for a moment, before fading into a soft, pulsing glow.

The gate was open.

My heart pounded as I stared into the swirling void beyond the stone frame. It was impossible to see what lay on the other side—only darkness, shifting and alive, as though daring me to step through.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. Fear clawed at my chest, but I shoved it down.

No turning back.

With a final glance at the forest behind me, I stepped through the gate and into the unknown.

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