❝ 𝙉𝙤 𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 ❞ LONG HIATUS

[𝙰𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐]

Dark.

So, so, so, dark.

And despite the situation he got himself into, he just wanted to get out already.

His body, once-menacing figure lay in a state of profound vulnerability. His body, encased in an otherworldly, luminescent cold liquid, seemed suspended in time itself. This peculiar fluid, an otherworldly shade of cerulean, emitted an eerie, faint glow that highlighted the contours of his pale, motionless form.

The darkness beyond the tube's confines was absolute, a velvety void that pressed in from all sides, enveloping his imprisoned body in a shroud of obscurity. It was as if the world had been reduced to this singular, enigmatic chamber, where time ceased to have meaning.

His body, once brimming with destructive energy, appeared numb and lifeless, yet paradoxically, it seemed as though it might drift away at any moment.

His limbs hung suspended in the fluid, their movements arrested, as if he were a ghost trapped in a strange, ethereal limbo.

The sensation within the tube was disconcerting, as if his very essence had been detached from the physical world. He felt weightless, as though gravity had lost its grip on him, and the frigid liquid surrounding him seeped through his skin, sending chilling tendrils of coldness deep into his bones.

'So dark.'

He tries to move, but his body remains still.

'Too dark.'

As his consciousness teetered on the edge of oblivion, his senses were inundated with this surreal tableau of darkness, cold, and suspension. It was a stark departure from the chaos and violence he had once thrived in, a haunting stillness that seemed to be both his prison and refuge.

Amidst the silence that envelops him, there's a voice.

"Come back to your senses."

For some reason, the voice cradles his ears, cradles him, granting an eerie sense of weightlessness, a sensation both unsettling and strangely beautiful, as if he has transcended the boundaries of the physical realm.

It resonates with an eerie clarity, an echo from the recesses of his fragmented memory. Yet, maddeningly elusive, its source remains concealed, a nameless presence that flickers like a distant star.

His mind, a beacon in this sea of ambiguity, urges him to reach out, to grasp the spectral thread of that voice and pull it closer, to find solace in its familiarity.

It beckons him to ground himself in the echoes of a reality he once knew. But an inscrutable force, a discord between body and soul, compels him to remain adrift, thwarting his efforts to bridge the gap between consciousness and the void.

The voice speaks again.

"Pathetic. Has my training done nothing to you?"

It felt like a dozen pricks were stabbing his heart, yet, it all felt familiar.

Too familiar.

But he doesn't remember anything.

He tried to move. His fingers, his arms, legs, toes, anything. But he felt like he was in a paralysis.

His consciousness, a flickering ember amidst the darkness, struggled to rekindle the connection between mind and body. But the enigmatic coma clung to him like a shroud, rendering him motionless and cold, trapped in a world where shadows danced in perpetual silence.