The Void of Souls

Chapter Four: Shadow of the Lost Soul

Kazuya couldn't be certain of what he had seen or felt after Saika vanished. The world around him trembled in an eerie way, as if the earth itself wanted to rid itself of his presence. One moment, a deafening roar filled his ears, and the next, the entire city plunged into silence, as though it had slipped into an eternal slumber.

"Is this the end?" Kazuya whispered to himself, struggling to piece his thoughts together. The air was stifling. He wasn't sure if what he was feeling reflected the world's crumbling state or if it was a sign of something deeper—something he couldn't begin to comprehend. He wandered aimlessly, the haze of existence seeping into his mind, wrapping him in an oppressive melancholy.

Hours passed before he found himself back in the same dark alley where he had confronted Saika and Yuki. The air carried a strange quality, something unfamiliar and unsettling. The shattered windows and crumbling buildings spoke of nothing but an expansive void that consumed everything in its wake.

"You can't escape." Those words Saika had spoken reverberated in his mind, like a ritualistic chant. The truth was now unmistakably clear: there was no escape from anything in this world.

Kazuya's breaths came in labored gasps, as though the air itself resisted him. Yuki had disappeared too, as if she were a fragment of a nightmare or a distant memory. But there was something else—a shadow was trailing him, one that he couldn't tell was a part of him or an entirely external force.

"Am I... a part of all this?" Kazuya muttered, his voice trembling as he stared at his hands. The tattoo on his wrist pulsed faintly, almost as if it had a life of its own. What he had once dismissed as a mere mark now stirred something deep within him, as though it was trying to convey a message he couldn't yet decipher.

He tried to push everything away, to run from the questions that were consuming him bit by bit. Was it him who had pulled the trigger? Was it him who had killed them all? The answers swirled endlessly in his mind, offering no solace, only chaos.

Then, out of the shadows, another figure emerged. It wasn't a person—not fully. It was a silhouette, hazy and indistinct, taking form in the dim alley. The figure bore an uncanny resemblance to Kazuya, but its features were blurred, distorted, as though time itself had warped them.

"You are not alone, Kazuya," the figure said, its voice strange and unsettling, as if it emanated from the depths of nowhere.

"Who are you?" Kazuya demanded, stepping back instinctively. There was no answer, only silence. But the voice persisted.

"I am a part of you," the figure replied, stepping closer. Its face remained obscured, yet it wore a smile—a bitter, twisted smile that Kazuya didn't know how to interpret.

A heavy weight pressed down on Kazuya's chest, as if some unseen force was trying to split his soul apart. He felt everything begin to crumble, the boundaries between himself and the strange, inexplicable conflict around him dissolving.

"Am I..." Kazuya began to speak, but the figure interrupted.

"Yes, you are," it said, its words now sharp and clear. "You are part of this world. Part of the void."

Kazuya found himself unable to move, as though gravity itself had betrayed him. His heart pounded wildly, his mind spinning faster with each passing second. "The void..." he whispered to himself, wondering if this was the source of everything—of the pain, the loss, the destruction.

But before he could delve further into his thoughts, the figure vanished. The alley was empty once again, devoid of any trace of its presence. Yet, deep within, Kazuya knew the truth: that figure had been no one else but himself.

Slowly, he began to walk toward the far edge of the alley, where the shadows grew thicker and darker. Faint, distant sounds called out to him, voices that seemed to emanate from nowhere yet pulled him closer. In that moment, something strange began to tug at his very soul.

It was a feeling that defied explanation, a sensation that forced him to confront questions about life and death. Could a person transcend themselves? Could they escape the weight of their broken soul?

"Why...?" he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Why do I keep going?"

The answer came to him slowly, carried by the faint whispers in the void. They spoke to him as if from the depths of an abyss:

"Because you have no choice."

"If this is the end, then what am I supposed to do?" Kazuya asked, but there was no reply. Only silence—heavier, more oppressive than ever before.

And in that silence, as he teetered on the brink between the void and existence, Kazuya realized a painful truth: the souls he had taken in the past, the ones he carried within him, meant nothing more than a futile attempt to flee the void. And when a person runs from the void, they only end up becoming a part of it.

But the question lingered, haunting him: Could he ever escape?

The shadows ahead seemed to grow deeper, swallowing the faint light that once existed. And as Kazuya stepped forward, a faint glimmer of resolve sparked within him. If there was no escape, then perhaps it wasn't about fleeing at all. Perhaps it was about facing it.

But how do you face something that has already consumed you?