Vivian remained seated, his eyes unfocused, as the woman kept playing.

Her eyes stayed closed, her fingers moving with calm and care.

Every motion felt natural, as if the music flowed through her without effort.

The leaves of the great tree swayed gently, brushing against one another and adding soft sounds that blended with the melody.

Even though it was night, darkness did not exist here.

A gentle light filled the space beneath the tree.

Fireflies hovered in the air like small stars.

Insects stopped their noisy calls and instead stayed still, as if listening.

Birds rested on the branches, their heads tilted toward the sound.

Even the wind seemed careful not to disturb the moment.

Vivian felt himself sink deeper into the music.

The world around him faded away.

The forest, the tree, even his own body felt distant.

Only the music remained.

It wrapped around him, slow and steady, like calm water flowing around a stone.

Yet something felt strange.

He could hear the music clearly, but his mind could not hold it.

The notes passed through his ears and heart, but when he tried to understand them, they slipped away.

It was as if the music was not meant to be remembered, only felt.

He knew it was beautiful. He knew it was important. But he could not explain why.

His chest felt tight, not from fear, but from something deeper.

A sense of closeness. A sense of longing.

Without realizing it, Vivian closed his eyes.

His breathing slowed.

His racing heart began to calm, matching the rhythm of the music.

For the first time in a long while, his thoughts did not wander to training, to limits, or to failure.

There was only the sound.

And in that sound, Vivian felt as if he was standing at the edge of something vast, something he could not yet step into, but was slowly, gently being invited toward.

As Vivian continued to sink deeper and deeper, the music still echoed within him.

But something had changed. The sound no longer entered through his ears.

Instead, it rose directly from his heart, slow and steady, like a pulse.

The feeling was unclear, hard to grasp.

Just moments ago, the music had been filled with longing.

Now it shifted again and again.

Sadness flowed through it, then joy followed.

Anger rose, sharp and heavy, and then all of those emotions came together.

They did not clash. They mixed, forming a deep and layered sound that felt vast and endless.

Vivian felt small. So small that he seemed no different from a single grain of dust.

And yet, at the same time, he felt boundless.

In one moment, he felt like a single being, limited and fragile.

In the next, it felt as if he was spread across everything around him.

He was both still and moving. Both silent and full of sound.

He could not tell where he ended and where the world began.

He felt like one, then many. Then neither.

His thoughts became slow, drifting without direction.

He did not try to hold on to them. He simply let them pass.

As his consciousness wandered, a strange feeling took hold.

At times, he felt meaningless, as if he did not exist at all.

Then, in the very next moment, he felt higher than everything, as if nothing in the world was beyond him.

But that feeling never stayed.

It collapsed again and again.

Each time it did, he returned to nothingness.

Yet he did not feel fear.

There was no pain. No struggle.

Only a quiet sense of falling, deeper and deeper, as if he were being pulled toward the very center of himself, where words, names, and limits no longer mattered.

This process continued for an unknown amount of time.

Vivian kept drifting within that strange state. He did not try to fight it.

He did not try to understand it.

He simply allowed everything to flow through him, as if he were part of the current itself.

Time moved like quiet water.

As it passed, the vague feelings within him slowly became clearer.

The sense of being everything was still there.

The sense of being nothing was also still there.

They did not disappear. What changed was how he felt them.

When he felt like he was everything, it was as if he had become a vast, endless space.

There was no edge to it. No beginning and no end.

Within that space, countless things existed.

Galaxies drifted silently. Star systems formed and faded.

Planets moved along their paths.

Life existed there as well, yet he could not see it clearly.

He only knew it was present, like a distant warmth he could not touch.

Then the feeling shifted.

When he became nothing, it felt like the end of that endless space.

Everything collapsed into a single moment.

That moment felt like a breath taken by a being beyond all measure.

It was impossible to understand, yet the feeling was clear.

It was as if the vast existence he had become was only a newborn, formed from that single breath.

And when the breath faded, so did everything else.

The endless space dissolved. Galaxies vanished.

Stars went dark. All of it returned to nothing.

Then the cycle began again.

Everything rose from nothing, expanded into infinity, and then collapsed once more.

The cycle felt brief, almost instant.

Yet within each cycle, time stretched without limit.

Countless ages passed.

Endless lives were born, lived, and faded away, all within that repeating flow.

Vivian remained within it, neither clinging nor resisting, as the rhythm of creation and destruction continued, over and over again.

After repeating the cycle of everything and nothing for what felt like endless time, Vivian's consciousness shifted again.

This time, he was wind.

He was an endless wind that roamed across a world.

He moved freely, without weight or form.

He passed over vast seas and quiet deserts.

He brushed through forests, slipped between mountains, and followed the paths of rivers.

He went everywhere, yet never stayed anywhere for long.

There was no sense of being everything or being nothing now.

There was only movement.

He drifted without purpose, carried by no will of his own.

Living beings breathed him in, and then breathed him out again.

He flowed through them, touched them, and left them behind.

He did not feel attached. He did not feel distant.

He simply passed on.

In this state, he could not think as he once did as a human.

There were no clear thoughts, no questions, no memories.

It was not emptiness, but it was not awareness either.

It was existence.

He was not within the wind.

He was the wind.

Time lost all meaning. Years passed. Then centuries. Then countless ages slipped by without leaving a trace.

And then, slowly, his form began to change once more.

This time, he became a cloud.

No, he was the thunder hidden inside it.

Endless dark clouds gathered in the sky, heavy and restless.

Within them, power built up, deep and fierce.

Then the thunder roared.

Lightning struck again and again, crashing down onto trees, small houses, and tall mountain peaks.

The world shook with each strike.

Among those flashes of thunder, he was one.

He struck a house, bright and sudden.

And then it ended.

That life was short, gone almost as soon as it appeared.

Then his consciousness shifted again.

This time, he was fire.

A small flame burning quietly inside a lamp.

The flame was steady, warm, and calm.

Its light pushed back the darkness of the room.

Beside it sat a human child, studying with focus.

The child's eyes were sharp, filled with determination. Pages were turned slowly.

Time passed.

Hours went by.

Finally, the child leaned back against the chair and let out a tired yawn.

"That's it for today," the child said softly.

The child stood up, leaned closer, and blew on the lamp.

The flame flickered.

Then it went out.

Darkness returned.

This life was even shorter than the last.

And once more, his consciousness shifted again, moving on without pause, drifting toward another form, another existence, as the endless flow continued.

Endless life cycles came to an end, yet something about them felt strange to Vivian.

Each life felt planned.

Not random. Not chaotic.

First, he was everything. Then nothing. Then an endless space.

Then a single breath. After that came the wind, then thunder, then fire. One form flowed into another as if following a hidden order.

After fire, he became water.

He flowed freely, gentle at times and fierce at others.

Then he became earth, heavy and still.

When the five elements finished their cycle, another new cycle began, and it also ended.

Cycle after cycle passed.

Then, everything stopped.

This time, he was something small.

Very small.

He was a grain of sand.

He drifted through the air, light and silent.

He had no weight, no purpose, no direction.

The wind carried him wherever it wished.

He touched the ground, then rose again, drifting endlessly.

There was no power in this form. No vastness. No force.

Only quiet movement.

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