The mountain stood tall. Not just tall—huge. Bigger than any building Ash had ever seen. It looked like it could swallow the sky.
Ash stared at it for a while.
His chest still ached a little, but he kept it to himself.
"Stay here," Ash said softly.
He looked at Ken, who sat on a rock nearby. Quiet. Still not saying much. Still carrying something in his eyes that felt heavy, like he hadn't really come back from the darkness he spoke about.
Ash crouched down in front of him.
"I'll climb it. Might see a way out."
Ken didn't nod or shake his head. He just blinked slowly.
"Don't die," he said, voice dry.
Ash gave him a crooked smile, but it didn't stick.
Then he stood, turned, and walked toward the mountain.
It looked even taller up close. Sharp rocks, jagged lines, black stone that reflected no light.
Ash took a deep breath. His boots sparked.
He jumped.
The first leap took him higher than most people could ever dream of jumping. But it still wasn't much compared to the size of this beast. His hands grabbed a ledge. His boots sparked again, bouncing off another rock, then another.
He wasn't flying. He wasn't gliding. He was climbing. With power, sure. But the mountain didn't care about that.
He slipped once. Almost lost his grip. Dust and pebbles crumbled beneath his feet. His hand slammed against a sharp edge, tearing a bit of his skin. Blood trickled out and vanished in the wind.
"Damn it," he whispered.
He didn't stop.
There was no plan. No rope. No fancy hero gear. Just him, the sparks in his boots, and the mountain. He climbed higher, little by little, breath getting shorter. His arms started to ache. His legs burned.
The world below started to shrink.
But he wasn't even halfway yet.
He stopped at a narrow ledge. Just wide enough to stand on. He leaned against the wall, chest rising and falling, the cold wind smacking his cheeks.
The forest below was still there. Silent. Grey.
He looked down.
Ken was no longer visible. Maybe behind a tree. Maybe still watching. Maybe sleeping. Maybe pretending to sleep again. Ash didn't know. Didn't want to think about it.
The truth was... he didn't want to go back down yet.
Not because of the view.
But because the higher he went, the more he felt like he was getting away. From the pain in his chest. From the screeches at night. From the fact that he had almost killed his best friend just a few hours ago.
He let his head rest against the cold stone.
The silence up here was heavy. Not peaceful. Not beautiful. Just empty. Like the world had given up screaming.
Ash's fingers twitched.
He remembered something suddenly. Something dumb. Something small.
He remembered how he used to stack chairs just to climb on the fridge and grab candy. And how his mother almost always caught him doing this.
Ash chuckled. It was the softest laugh in the world. Then the wind blew harder, and he was back again—on a narrow ledge, halfway up a monster of a mountain.
He looked up.
The top was still far.
Ash kept climbing.
The cold had started to bite through his jacket. His hands were sore, scraped from the sharp rocks. His fingers had gone a little numb, but he didn't stop.
He was getting close now. He could feel it. The wind was stronger, harsher. It carried nothing but silence. Not even birds.
And strangely... There were no flying creatures.
No monsters. No winged demons trying to eat his face. Nothing. That was the strange part. This place—this dead, cursed world—always had something waiting around the corner. But now? Nothing.
Just the wind. And the sky. And the sharp breath in his chest. He pulled himself up one last ledge and finally—finally—reached the top.
And there... right in front of him... Was a man. Lying down. Still. Almost peaceful.
Ash froze.
The guy was lying flat on the rocky surface, arms behind his head like he was napping. He had a black and red mask covering his face. Sleek. Cool-looking. Almost too perfect. The kind of thing someone wouldn't wear unless they wanted to hide everything.
Ash's heart started beating faster.
He didn't know why. But something about it felt off. This place was quiet, too quiet. And this guy… just lying here? Alone?
He waited a bit. But the man didn't move.
"Hey…" Ash said quietly.
No reply.
Ash slowly walked forward. Every step echoing just a bit too much in the cold air.
He crouched beside the man.
Was he dead?
Ash reached toward the mask. Something about it felt wrong, but he had to know. Just as his fingers touched it—
A fist came flying from nowhere, fast and hard. Ash barely had time to block it. The guy moved like a shadow, rolling away and jumping back onto his feet in one smooth move.
But he almost slipped. His foot slid on the edge of the cliff, and for a second, his whole body tilted backwards—arms flailing.
Ash's heart dropped. Without thinking, he jumped forward and grabbed the man's arm. The guy dangled there, legs swinging above the deep fall below.
Ash held on.
"Tch—let go!" the masked guy shouted, voice muffled through the mask.
"You're welcome!" Ash grunted.
The guy was heavier than he looked. Or maybe Ash was just tired. Either way, his fingers were burning, and his arm felt like it might pop off.
But he didn't let go. He pulled. And the man finally scrambled up, panting, falling on his back again.