The chained Rudra stepped closer, the sound of dragging chains echoing softly through the darkness.
"Let's see if you can truly bear this burden."
He lowered his head slightly, his crimson eyes locking onto Rudra's.
"Come."
"Press your forehead against mine…"
A faint, cold smile crossed his face.
"And I'll show you…"
"…just how much of a coward you really are."
Rudra fell.
Not through space, not through air—but through something deeper. A silence without weight, without direction. There was no wind here, no sound of the world he had left behind. Only a slow, endless descent into something that didn't feel like darkness… but absence.
Then—
he stopped.
His feet touched something solid, though he hadn't seen it coming. The ground beneath him was cold. Smooth. Endless. It stretched in all directions, fading into a dim horizon that held no sky, no stars—only a dull, muted glow, like a world that had forgotten light.
Rudra tried to breathe.
His chest tightened.
"…where… am I…?" His voice echoed strangely, as if the space around him wasn't meant to carry sound.
No answer came.
But something moved.
A faint sound—metal shifting.
Rudra turned.
And then he saw it.
Chains.
Massive. Golden. Stretching upward into nothingness, their ends disappearing into the void above. They hung under tension, trembling slightly, as if holding something in place—something that didn't want to be held.
At their center—
someone stood.
No.
Not someone.
Him.
Rudra's breath caught.
The figure looked identical—same face, same form—but everything about him felt… wrong. His posture was too still. His presence too heavy. His eyes—
they weren't like his.
Where Rudra's were filled with confusion and pain, those eyes held something deeper. Older. Colder. A quiet awareness that felt completely out of place.
The chains wrapped around him—across his arms, his torso, binding him in place. Yet he didn't struggle.
He simply watched.
Rudra took a step back.
"…what… is this…?"
The chained Rudra tilted his head slightly.
Then—he smiled.
Not wide.
Not cruel.
Just enough to feel unnatural.
"So," he said softly, his voice echoing with a strange calm that didn't belong to a child. "You finally made it here."
Rudra's body tensed.
"…who are you…?"
A pause.
The chains gave a faint, hollow sound as the figure shifted just slightly—not breaking, not loosening—just enough to remind Rudra they were real.
"I could ask you the same," the other Rudra replied.
His gaze didn't leave him.
"But I suppose that would be pointless."
Silence settled between them.
Rudra swallowed, forcing himself to speak.
"…what is this place…?"
The chained figure looked around, as if considering the question.
Then back at him.
"…this?"
A faint breath left him.
"This is what remains."
The words meant nothing—and everything at the same time.
Rudra frowned. "…I don't understand…"
"No," the other Rudra said quietly. "You don't."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then—
"You think this is about power, don't you?"
Rudra didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The chained Rudra's eyes narrowed slightly.
"That's why you're here."
A faint sound echoed again—the chains tightening, almost imperceptibly.
"You're looking for something to save you."
His gaze sharpened.
"Something to make all of this… mean something."
Rudra's fists tightened.
"…if you know that, then tell me—what is this place? What are you?"
The other Rudra studied him for a moment.
Then his expression softened.
Not with kindness.
With understanding.
."…you still don't remember this feeling."
Rudra frowned, his breath uneven. "…what do you mean by that?"
The chained Rudra smiled—faint, almost mocking, as if he were looking at something painfully obvious.
"This feeling…" he said quietly. "…you've felt it before."
A pause.
"…remorse."
The word landed heavily.
"Remorse of being weak."
"Remorse of being the reason someone died."
Rudra froze.
And then—it hit him.
The courtyard. The battle. Lumi.
His breath broke. "No—"
The memory crashed into him all at once, sharp and unforgiving. His chest tightened as if something inside him was being crushed again. "No…!" he shouted, his voice echoing into the empty, endless space—but there was nothing there to answer him. No one to stop it. No one to pull him back.
Only silence.
Only him.
The chained Rudra didn't stop.
"…this is your reality."
His voice was calm. Certain.
"If you remain as weak as you are now… everyone you care about will die."
A brief pause.
"…and it will be because of you."
Rudra's fists clenched, his whole body trembling.
"…you're lying," he forced out, his voice shaking. "You're twisting things… trying to break me…"
For a moment—just a moment—his gaze faltered.
Then it hardened again.
"I won't accept that."
The chained Rudra's gaze sharpened.
"…I expected nothing more from a coward."
The word cut deeper than anything before.
"And if you think I'm blaming you…" his tone lowered,
"…then I will let you witness the truth you've been running from."
A faint shift of the chains.
"…but tell me…"
His eyes locked onto Rudra's.
"…do you have the strength to carry it?"
Rudra's jaw tightened.
"I can accept anything…" he said, his voice rough, unsteady—but refusing to break.
"But I won't accept that their death was because of me."
He stepped forward.
"Show me."
A pause.
"And if you're wrong…"
His gaze hardened.
"…I'll tear you apart myself."
Then the chained Rudra stepped closer, the sound of dragging chains echoing softly through the darkness.
"Let's see if you can truly bear this burden."
He lowered his head slightly, his crimson eyes locking onto Rudra's.
"Come."
"Press your forehead against mine…"
A faint, cold smile crossed his face.
"And I'll show you…"
"…just how much of a coward you really are."
Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction.
No sky. No ground. Only cold silence pressing against Rudra from all sides.
The chained Rudra stood motionless beneath the weight of golden chains, his crimson eyes fixed somewhere deep within the void.
Then—
laughter echoed softly through the darkness.
Warm.
Distant.
Rudra froze.
A faint light appeared ahead of them, flickering weakly before slowly expanding into the shape of a small home.
Amber.
Golden light spilled gently from the windows while the scent of flowers drifted through the air like a forgotten dream.
Rudra stared at it blankly.
Something about the sight made his chest ache.
Inside the house, a woman laughed softly while chasing a small child across the room. Nearby, a man sat beside the table, watching them with tired but peaceful eyes.
The warmth of the scene felt unbearable.
Rudra's brows slowly tightened.
"…who are they…?"
The chained Rudra remained silent for a moment.
Then—
"…the first victims of your weakness."
The words struck strangely hard.
Rudra's gaze trembled slightly as he continued watching the memory unfold. The woman gently brushed the child's hair aside while the man placed food onto his plate with quiet care.
Everything felt… familiar.
Too familiar.
The chained Rudra's voice echoed quietly through the darkness.
"The first people who died because of you."
Rudra's breathing faltered instantly.
"…what?"
"You heard me."
The chains shifted faintly as the other Rudra slowly stepped closer.
"And yet…"
His crimson eyes narrowed.
"…you forgot them."
Rudra's expression shook violently.
"No… I…"
"You buried them."
The words came colder this time.
"The ones who brought you into this world."
Rudra stared at the family inside the house as something inside him began falling apart piece by piece.
The woman's smile.
The man's calm voice.
The warmth of that home.
Why did it hurt so much to look at them?
The chained Rudra stopped beside him.
"…do you even have the courage to learn who they truly are?"
Silence.
Rudra's fists tightened slowly at his sides.
Fear crawled through his chest.
Not fear of the darkness.
Not fear of death.
Fear of the answer.
But this time—
he didn't run.
His voice trembled weakly.
"…yes."
A pause.
"I don't want to run anymore."
For the first time, the chained Rudra's mocking smile disappeared completely.
Then he raised his hand toward the memory.
The light inside the house flickered softly.
And the child turned slightly.
Rudra's breath stopped.
Blue eyes.
Dark hair.
That face—
His face.
The world around him suddenly felt distant.
No sound.
No air.
Nothing.
The chained Rudra looked directly into his eyes.
"…those are your real parents."
Something inside Rudra shattered completely.
His legs gave out beneath him as he collapsed onto the darkness below, his entire body trembling violently.
"…no…"
His voice cracked instantly.
"No… no…"
The woman smiled softly while fixing the child's clothes.
The man laughed quietly as the boy complained about vegetables.
Ordinary moments.
Tiny moments.
Moments he had forgotten.
Rudra's hands shook uncontrollably as tears blurred his vision.
"…Mom…"
The word barely escaped him.
"…Dad…"
A pain far worse than physical agony tore through his chest.
Not because they died.
But because he had forgotten them.
Forgotten their voices.
Forgotten their warmth.
Forgotten the people who loved him before the world became cruel.
The chained Rudra stared down at him silently.
Cold.
Unmoving.
"…now watch carefully."
The memory had already begun to change.
The candlelight flickered violently.
The warmth inside the house slowly faded.
Outside, the wind grew colder.
And somewhere far beyond the quiet streets of Amber—
something moved.
Rudra's chest tightened instantly.
"No…"
The shadows outside stretched unnaturally across the walls as distant footsteps echoed through the silence.
Slow.
Heavy.
Certain.
The younger Rudra climbed into bed peacefully, unaware of the darkness approaching his home.
Rudra's breathing became uneven.
"…stop…"
But the memory continued forward mercilessly.
A violent sound shattered the silence.
The younger Rudra woke instantly.
Then came the voices.
"Find them."
"Don't leave anyone alive."
The warmth of the house vanished completely.
Fear slammed into Rudra so suddenly that his knees nearly gave out.
"No… NO—"
But he couldn't stop it.
He watched his younger self walk trembling toward the half-open bedroom door.
And then—
blood.
The world stopped.
Meera's body lay motionless upon the bed beneath dim flickering light, crimson staining the sheets, the walls, the floor. Her severed head rested beside her body, her lifeless eyes frozen in silence.
Rudra staggered backward violently.
"…Mom…"
The smell hit him next.
Blood.
So much blood.
Hot.
Metallic.
It filled his lungs exactly the same way it had that night.
For years he had tried to forget that smell.
But now it surrounded him again.
Real.
Fresh.
Alive.
His body shook uncontrollably as the younger Rudra stumbled through the hallway, crying, desperate, terrified.
"Dad…!"
Ashok sat collapsed beside his desk, blood pouring endlessly from his wounds, yet even then—
he smiled.
Not because he wasn't afraid.
But because his son was still alive.
The chained Rudra's voice echoed quietly beside him.
"Listen carefully."
The younger Rudra grabbed Ashok's trembling hand desperately.
"Dad… please… don't leave me…"
Ashok coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips as his fading eyes locked onto his son.
"You can't just die yet…"
His voice trembled weakly.
"Life will not be easy for you…"
A faint light began forming beneath Rudra's feet.
"…but you must live."
Tears streamed endlessly down the child's face.
"Even if it hurts you more than anything."
Something inside Rudra cracked.
Not from pain.
From understanding.
Then—
the masked figures appeared in the doorway.
Black robes.
Skull-shaped masks.
The same monsters.
The same nightmare.
"Looks like the bastard had a brat too."
"Tch. Let's finish this quickly."
The younger Rudra screamed as the pale light consumed the room.
But just before the memory shattered—
Rudra saw something he had never understood as a child.
Fear.
Not in his father's eyes.
Regret.
As if Ashok already knew his son would spend the rest of his life drowning beneath this night.
FLASH.
The memory collapsed instantly.
The warmth.
The house.
The voices.
Gone.
Darkness swallowed everything once more.
Only Rudra's ragged breathing remained.
The chained Rudra slowly turned toward him, chains rattling softly through the void.
"…now tell me," he said quietly.
His crimson eyes locked onto Rudra's trembling figure.
"After witnessing it again…"
A pause.
"…do you still believe your existence had nothing to do with their deaths?"