It was a beautiful day. The sun shone. The air was warm and easy. Birds chattered through the trees. Children's laughter carried from the streets. Inside, something sizzled in the kitchen of a modern apartment, tidy and large enough for a big family.

By the sliding glass door, a boy sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, watching the world outside through the closed pane.

"All right, it's finally done!"

A black-haired boy with blue eyes strode over, holding a plate of steaming—pancakes.

The boy at the glass turned. Red eyes met him.

Azriel raised an eyebrow.

"They aren't burned, huh?" he said in a half-dead voice.

Nathan nodded, enthusiastic.

"Yeah! I didn't mess it up this time."

He dropped beside Azriel. Slowly, Azriel reached for the plate on the floor, took a pancake, and bit in. It looked perfect—golden, crisp at the edges—but his face tightened.

"The inside is still disgusting."

Nathan's expression fell.

"Man… I really thought I had it this time. Not like last time."

Azriel chuckled and turned, chewed, swallowed, and let out a breath.

"You didn't have to eat it if it was bad, you know."

"…The only time you made me pancakes was the week after my family died," Azriel said quietly.

"You noticed I wasn't eating. You forced your way in here and cooked. They looked like volcanic rocks. You almost broke your own teeth trying them."

Nathan frowned and glanced away.

"Well, my misery made you laugh—for the first time since then."

"I suppose it did."

Nathan sighed.

"Man, you really went like a madman into the ring this time, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?" Azriel still didn't turn.

"Come on. Don't pretend you don't know how absurd that was. Just to get a phoenix tear, you slowed your heart until you were practically dead, let Corven punch a hole through your stomach, tore off his arm, shot off his hand, took his ring, and instead of finishing him, you cut a deal—threatening every life in a village that belongs to a Grandmaster, the village chief. How is that not reckless?"

Azriel shrugged.

"I saw no way to kill Corven. He was piecing things together, getting more suspicious by the second. We would have lost if I hadn't made that deal with him—and with Marquis Rossweth. Given the circumstances, and Master Ranni failing to do enough damage, it was the best plan left."

"Plus, you didn't expect Corven to actually break his promises."

"I suppose I didn't."

Nathan laughed, bright and wholehearted. In the glass, Azriel could see his friend's reflection, grinning up at the ceiling.

"You were always better at winning than any of us."

Azriel's face darkened.

"No. I was just extremely lucky. That's all."

Nathan scoffed.

"Don't sell yourself short. You are—and always have been. Void creatures, humans, chess, theatre, basketball, piano—you've always been more talented than me. You need to see it instead of running from it. You're amazing. Incredible. Who else can do what you do? You're on a whole other level!"

"What bullshit."

Azriel grit his teeth.

"Don't sell yourself short? Stop running from it? I don't know how you were so stupid back then, Nathan. It was a lie. There was no truth in it. I was never as talented as I made you all think."

His smile died. Azriel narrowed his eyes at Nathan's reflection; the red in them burned with hate, anger, disgust.

"Ah, come on! How long are you going to keep thinking like that? I get it if you can't let us go, but at the very least let yourself heal for a bit! If you keep looking at yourself like that, it won't end well! Instead, genuinely look at everything you have achieved! You are amazing, not some disappointment, man! You have to see it before it is too late!"

"There is nothing else to see but that…"

"That is not true!"

"It is."

Azriel gritted his teeth harder.

Nathan didn't back down.

"It isn't! You're actually talented! You're genuin—"

"Can you stop saying that!" Azriel suddenly cut him off, his voice became sharp and loud.

"No! I'm not stopping! I'm trying to make you underst—"

"And I don't care what you say! It's all a lie in the end! I am a fucking disappointment!"

"No, you need to listen to—"

"I said I am!"

"...!"

Azriel spun around, his voice bursting out so violently that it echoed through the place.

"...."

"I'm a disappointment! That's the truth! Maybe I had some talent, but only that—just enough to grasp the basics a little faster than most! The moment we moved past basics—when it got difficult, complex—my 'talent' vanished! It was small! Useless! I had to work myself raw! I bullshitted my way through everything and deceived you all! I lied, knowing I was worth less than average! Do you know what it's like to be called special for doing baby steps quickly—and then drown the second the water gets real!? To watch everyone's faces twist when they realize the trick is just mirrors and sweat? I hate it! I-I hate me! I hate my name next to 'talented' like it belongs there! It doesn't! Those expectations—look what happened the moment they learned the truth! They all died because of me! Carrying it all was impossible from the start! I saw how shit I was at playing the piano, so I tried chess! I saw how shit I was at chess, so I tried theatre! I saw how shit I was at theatre, so I tried basketball! And then I saw how shit I was at even that! I can't do anything! No matter what it was, I couldn't be a prodigy at anything—except for being a worthless, filthy failure! I'm nothing! I'm useless! I'm trash! Worse than trash! I-I'm the leftover on the floor after... after the floor's already been cleaned! I'm not even strong nor special! I'm not even average! I'm simply less! I'm low! I'm worthless! I'm the reason people die! I'm the reason things break! And... and if I was going to be anything, then… I—I'm just a cancer..!"

Nathan just looked at him—no expression at all. Azriel's breathing came hard; his body shook violently.

"…It must be hard having no one to aim those feelings at except yourself," Nathan said at last.

"Maybe you're right. You lied to them for so long. And without you… it was you who killed them. Maybe Pollux was right, and you're just a coward."

"…!"

Azriel's eyes flared. His hand snapped to the plate of pancakes; a heartbeat later the plate shattered against the wall where Nathan had been, exploding into shards. Nathan had already vanished from that spot.

"You can't kill me," Nathan said, suddenly standing in front of him.

Azriel glared up.

"I'm already dead, remember? We all are. Just like this apartment—gone. This is a dream you built to teach yourself a lesson. You made me because I'm the easiest one for you to talk to—somewhere to bleed off the pressure."

"…Go away."

Nathan pressed his lips together.

"If this is a dream, make me go away. I don't want to be here."

"If you truly believed that, we wouldn't still be here."

"Tch..."

Azriel leaned back against the wall on the floor and stared out at the garden beyond the glass.

"If not as Leo, then as Azriel," Nathan went on, "you're still reaching for the end—not the bad end. You stopped the tragedy in the void dungeon. You killed Zoran, who would have caused another in the future—on the same day. And then you—"

"Just shut up."

Azriel drew his knees in and rested his forehead against them.

"I don't want to hear that crap. 'Preventing tragedies,' 'avoiding the bad end'—I don't even know what the end is. I never read it. And the ones I 'prevented' were temporary. Something worse will replace them. All I did was meddle and probably stunt their growth."

Nathan watched him. The unreadable face turned colder.

"Ah. So you're giving up."

Azriel's head snapped toward him.

"When did I say that?"

"You didn't. But it's true. You've given up. Look at how you 'won' today. That's your proof."

"What proof? I won, didn't I? I didn't kill him, but I still won. I did everything I could for that tear."

"Exactly my point. You fought Pollux inside that spell for so long you forgot why we kept using [Redo]—again and again and again."

"What are you talking about? Of course I remember."

"Apparently you don't, because you're acting like as long as Jasmine lives, everyone else can die. That's not how it works. If you want to be stabbed ten more times, fine. If you want to cut your own limbs, go ahead. Call yourself talentless, trash, worthless—if that's how you see yourself, I can't stop you. Gamble the fodder if you must. But you cannot gamble the lives of those who matter."

"I—"

"You can't trade Ranni's life for Jasmine's. Or anyone else's. That road goes one way—straight to the bad end."

Azriel's eyes were wide now.

"You love to gamble," Nathan said.

"What you love most is all or nothing. It applies here too. Don't forget that."

Azriel pressed his lips tight to keep his voice steady.

"…You talk like it's easy."

"It isn't. Nothing is. And you'll never be satisfied with a bad end. You'll never forgive yourself if you keep trading the lives of the ones who matter."

Azriel stared at him in silence, face unreadable, then finally sighed.

"...This is stupid."

"It is, isn't it?"

"—!!"

A familiar voice cut through the room. Azriel turned his head—so did Nathan—and both of them froze.

A boy with brown hair and green eyes stood there.

Nathan scowled.

"Leo."

Leo stood there, looking at the two of them.

"As much as there's rationality in your words, Nathan, they're just as full of irrationality."

Crouching, Leo met Azriel's gaze—half surprised, half resigned to how stupid and ridiculous this dream was.

"The moment you wake from this dream and return to reality—well, technically you'll still be in a dream, but you know what I mean—you can't indulge in wishful thinking."

Azriel pursed his lips and said nothing. Leo continued.

"Gods, divine spirits, sovereigns, apostles—whatever others there are—compared to them you're weak. Physically, and especially mentally. They don't care about you, Azriel. To them you're a puppet on strings. You don't have the luxury of saving everyone. Forget the rest and save the ones who matter—your family. To hell with everyone else. If you have to trade their lives for your family, then so be it. You don't need a satisfying end—you've probably never even reached one. That's why [Redo] has been used so many times. Think about yourself and your family. Wriggle through the war they're waging against one another. You'll eventually find a path that keeps you alive—which is all that matters—instead of trying to win every time and chase an impossible perfect ending like a child dreaming. No pun intended."

Before Azriel could answer, Nathan whistled.

"Wow. Spoken like a real loser."

Leo shot Nathan a look.

"In the end, it's up to you. The difficulty will only increase from here on out."

"Oh, come on," Nathan said.

"You're saying all this because Corven might come after him the moment he heals—take revenge, get that tear back."

Leo narrowed his eyes.

"Yes and no. That—and the fact we all know it only gets harder from here."

Nathan clicked his tongue.

"You're overreacting."

"I'm not. I'm being logical—unlike you, who only underreacts."

"Huh? Did you just call me stu—"

"Enough!"

Azriel's shout cut through them. They both fell silent.

"You think I don't know any of this?" he said. "I've already considered both your perspectives and dozens more. Sure, what you're saying could be true; it has merit. But there's no way I built a dream—and the two of you, the most annoying voices in it—just to tell me that."

They exchanged a glance, then nodded, turning back to him.

"Well, if that's your question, the answer's simple," Nathan said.

"It's because you came to terms with sacrificing Ranni, if it came to that," Leo said.

"And now you feel guilty—not only for almost breaking your promise to her, but for nearly using her life to win," Nathan added.

"So you don't want to wake up," Leo said.

"Afraid to face her reaction."

Azriel frowned, then laughed.

"Scared? Guilty? It's not like I'm close to her. Are you really saying I put myself in a coma because I'm afraid of how a mere instructor would react?"

They both shrugged.

"If she were just a mere instructor," Nathan said, "you wouldn't have bargained a health potion for her."

Azriel gritted his teeth.

"If I can save a life dying at my feet, why wouldn't I?"

Leo laughed.

"You say that, yet you didn't hesitate to get rid of Instructor Kevin. It would have been just as convenient now as it was then to let an instructor die."

Azriel clenched his fists. He held his tongue for a few heartbeats. Under their two, very different stares, he finally sighed and looked down at the floor, where bits of a shattered plate lay.

"…So I'm afraid she'll hate me, huh."

'When did I…?'

"When did you become so soft?" Nathan asked.

"You always were," he added with a shrug.

Azriel looked up as Leo spoke, wanting to reply but not knowing how.

"No matter what you tell people, or how you deceive them," Leo said, "don't forget who you are, Azriel."

Azriel swallowed.

"And I am…?"

For the first time, Leo smiled.

"You already know the answer."

"He's right—you already know. Don't ever for—"

Before Nathan finished, Azriel blinked, and the two were gone.

He blinked again, and again, looking around—no one.

"Oh…"

He was back in his apartment, alone this time. He drew his knees close, hugged them tight, and whispered,

"...I really don't know."

No one heard. No one answered. Instead, the sudden sound of shattering glass snapped his head up.

A hairline crack ran through the air in front of him, as if the room itself had fractured. Slowly, something on the other side began to tear it wider.

Azriel's heart kicked into a sprint. He couldn't move. He reached for his power and found nothing. He tried to speak; no sound came.

The tearing stopped, revealing a pitch-black void. Silence fell—so complete he could hear only the drowning thud of his own heartbeat. Seconds crawled by; the quiet gnawed at what was left of his sanity.

Slowly, feeling returned. He braced a hand to push himself up—only—

At that exact moment, a shriveled, shadow-black arm shot from the tear. Icy fingers clamped over his face, freezing him in place.

Everything went black.

…and the dream ended.

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