Systemism

Hyeonwoo's Awakening

"What is your main feeling to push on?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before the answers came, each voice reflecting a different facet of their growth.

Jisoo: "Passion. That's what I felt."

Jin Na: "Desperation. Hatred."

Kai: "Conviction. A man who believes in himself can never fall!"

Kwang Sun: "More motivated? I'm not too sure..."

Evan: "Protecting what's mine."

Bong: "Wanting to survive!"

Mujuk: "Anger."

Though their words surrounded him, none of them resonated with Hyeonwoo. Every answer felt distant, hollow as if they belonged to someone else—someone whose life he could never understand. What had he felt? Guilt? Loyalty?

Could he believe in himself like Kai did?
Had he ever felt the desperation that drove Jin Na?
Was he ever passionate about anything like Jisoo?
Had rage ever fueled him like it had for Mujuk?
Had he ever looked forward to living like Bong?
Did he ever think of himself like Evan?
Had he ever pushed forward like Kwang Sun?

The more he pondered, the more the questions mounted, until they overwhelmed him, drowning him in confusion. The emotions were too much—alien, distant. What did any of it mean to him? Were these answers here to torment him, to break him further?

His world spun. His body, battered and broken, flickered in and out of consciousness. His mind frayed, collapsing under the weight of everything he could no longer comprehend. The cacophony of battle faded into silence, replaced by an oppressive darkness.

======

When his vision returned, he found himself alone in a dimly lit room, his injuries biting at his senses. The metallic tang of blood filled the air as crimson dripped from numerous cuts that marred his body, staining the cold stone floor beneath him. His muscles screamed in protest, as though every movement demanded more strength than he could muster. Breathing felt like a battle—each inhale a stab of fire, each exhale a tremor of exhaustion.

Yet, amidst the pain, there was something different. A strange, unsettling lightness bloomed within him like a burden momentarily lifted from his chest. He could not place its origin or meaning, but the sensation was undeniable. A fleeting respite from the weight he had carried for so long.

His ears rang with silence until a voice—a voice he knew all too well—cut through the haze.

Voice: "I'll do this once. Clear your mind."

The voice, usually laced with mockery and disdain, now held an uncharacteristic gentleness. It was a strange, almost eerie contrast to its usual tone, and yet, it carried with it an unspoken command. The authority behind the words left no room for defiance.

Hyeonwoo stirred, summoning the last shreds of his strength. His body protested violently, but he pushed through the agony. With laboured effort, he rolled onto his back, his limbs sprawling helplessly across the icy floor. His body felt like it was on fire, the cuts still oozing blood, each drop a reminder of how close to the edge he truly was. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, and his vision wavered, the world around him blurring and doubling.