Well, a version of me. Younger, cockier, and oozing disdain.
"You thought you could make a difference?" he spat. "You're just a guy with a useless degree and no clue what he's doing."
"Hey, that's not—" I paused. "Okay, that's kind of true, but still!"
Another specter took shape, this one resembling my old boss. "You were never cut out for this, Carl. You don't belong here. You'll never succeed."
The voices piled on, each one dredging up insecurities I'd buried deep.
For a moment, I wanted to believe them. But then I remembered the journey that had brought me here—the trials, the creatures, the moments of triumph against all odds.
"You call this surviving?" Younger Me sneered. "Tripping over your own feet and relying on a cat for guidance? Pathetic."
More shadows emerged. My old boss materialized, arms crossed and radiating disappointment. "I told you this dream of yours was ridiculous. Look where it got you—lost in the underworld, barely scraping by."
