Flash.
Time stretches.
Reality distorts, like a badly edited film.
Every fraction of a second drags on for eternity.
My mind doesn't even have time to process—I'm slipping.
Flashbacks. Duplications.
Sensations crushed, warped by an invisible pressure.
BAM.
I'm here. Again.
Eight years old.
The accident.
The vine snapping under my fingers, then concrete.
A dull impact.
The world blurs.
Everything freezes.
— Me (bitter laugh): I just face-planted like a cartoon character… but in my underwear!
Iris' voice, cold and clinical, crackles in my earpiece.
A thin thread connecting reality to the chaos unraveling around me.
— Iris (calm, distant): Analysis in progress. Master William, the results indicate you were already under the influence of Ozen's Eye at the time of the accident.
A chill runs down my spine.
— Me (shocked): So, it wasn't an accident.
— Iris: No, Master. According to my analysis, it was a test.
— Me (bewildered, skeptical): If that was an aptitude test, I need a refund, bro. They hit me with a Game Over before I even pressed start.
The old rasta, now sitting across from me, breaks the silence.
He has this tranquil yet imposing aura.
Unmoving, even as the world around us fractures.
— Roch (calmly): Around here, they call me Roch.
He looks straight at me. No hesitation. No emotion.
Just truth in his gaze—like the ocean before a storm.
— Roch (slow, almost hypnotic): Before… others called me different names. Alpha, Zeta, Eight… or even Sixteen.
— Me (mentally spiraling): Shit, he's dropping too much lore… and I have way too many questions.
My brain glitches.
Too many puzzle pieces, none of them fitting.
— Me (panic rising): Damn! No way to take notes. Iris?! Help!
My mind drifts.
Roch keeps going.
— Roch (his voice like a slow-acting venom): Not everything that shines are made of light… Under the sun, we shield ourselves with shadows. Under the moon, we find our way with light.
A truth brushes against me.
But I can't grasp it.
A veil is ripping, but I'm still trapped between two worlds.
Like DJ Khaled, Another one.
— Me (realizing): The Fusion Mode activation. During the chase.
Iris, distant, grave:
— Iris: You've died twice. You just don't know it.
Ice cold fear.
A rush of déjà vu.
— Me (stunned): My coma.
I remember the abyss beneath my feet.
A void.
A black hole.
Roch smirks. Not a comforting smile.
More like the kind that tells you you're not ready for the truth.
He nods slowly.
Like every word, is nailing something into my mind.
— Roch (too calm, way too calm): Yeah, rasta… This isn't your first time crossing.
I want to run.
But my legs refuse.
The words echo, growing louder.
The truth turns violent.
— Roch (neutral tone): You've walked this path before… but you don't remember.
The sentence drops like a hammer.
Like a judge delivering a verdict I can't appeal.
— Me (voice cracking): That's impossible.
The ground tilts beneath me.
The world folds.
Time collapses.
Roch, still eerily calm, doesn't move.
He's there, in the shadows—like a ghost waiting for me to catch up.
— Me (sarcastic, grasping for logic): So, what, I already farmed goblins to level up?!
No reaction.
He stares, unblinking.
Then his voice falls—heavy, unyielding.
— Roch: Truth doesn't wait for your approval, rasta. It just is.
Silence thickens.
My head is burning.
I want to scream—
But nothing comes out.
— Roch (solemn): The real question is… what do you plan to do with all those goblins you farmed?
His finger barely touches my forehead.
A simple tap.
But I feel it in every atom of my being.
Like the universe itself just punched me in the soul.
— Me (disoriented, dazed): Did he just glitch-teleport, or am I straight-up losing my grip on reality?
I blink.
And suddenly.
DJ Khaled, again ! Another one.
Pain.
An electric surge.
My skull thrums like a war drum.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
A deafening sound erupts inside my head.
The world distorts.
Like a corrupted file trying to rewrite itself.
Whispers.
— Iris (distant, glitching): Rewriting in progress.
Ice-cold shivers.
I feel my skin tighten.
Like something is reprogramming me from the inside.
Then, nothing.
Oh, Roch is still there.
Still unchanged.
— Roch (calm, unwavering): You think you're the same.
But deep down…
You know something's different.
Even if you don't understand it yet.
You're not who you were.
— Me (empty, distant): Just fragments… blurry memories…
Like a corrupted file waiting for a system update.
Mine crashes without warning.
The silence thickens.
Crushing.
Suffocating.
The world stands still.
The void eats at my soul.