Third Person’s POV
Aether’s body flinched as he stamred back slightly, his breath uneven, his fingers trembling while holding the rope as though it burned against his skin.
"Aether?" Nightfire’s eyes fixed on him, watching his legs tremble as if the strength beneath him was about to collapse.
Aether blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if to clear the haze clouding his mind, the ghost of sothing unspeakable flashing through his thoughts.
Forcing a chuckle that sounded weaker than he intended, he muttered, "She... really isn’t showing much, is she? Hiding herself all this ti?" His tone carried both amusent and unease, a strange mixture that didn’t fit the smile tugging at his lips.
Nightfire and Starla tilted their heads, confusion etched on their faces, unable to make sense of his words. Aether’s gaze dropped again to the body and soul before him, still trembling violently as though caught between breaking apart and holding together...
"You said she’s rejecting it, right?"
Starla gave a small nod.
Aether humd under his breath before finally speaking, "Well then..." His hand brushed the rope once more, fingers tightening with a strange resolve.
This ti, he focused entirely on his consciousness, pouring his will into it, trying to push himself through the connection bound within the rope. Yet, the mont he pressed forward, his mind slamd into resistance—the rope rejected him as though it was alive, defending its core.
Aether frowned... He pushed again, forcing his will forward, refusing to let go, refusing to be denied entry.
It was like forcing himself into a rushing stream of water flowing in a straight line. He tried to reach into it, tried to make contact with whatever lay beyond.
The mont he reached deeper, the stream retaliated violently, throwing him back.
Aether clicked his tongue sharply.
"She’s... trying to untie the rope?" Nightfire muttered, her eyes narrowing. She could see Nyx’s soul struggling against the binding—fumbling, failing, but still trying.
Not clearly, not decisively, yet there was no doubt she was attempting to free herself.
"I guess... I need to et him then," Aether muttered darkly, his gaze lowering to his legs.
They were fading, piece by piece, dissolving into nothingness.
He was reaching his limit... and he knew it.
[Aether!! You will lose everything for her!! Do you understand what you are doing now?]
His log scread inside his head, the voice thunderous, desperate.
Because of the contract, if he delayed any longer, if he kept pressing forward, his existence in this reality would shatter completely.
His body, his soul, his mories—everything that made him who he was—would vanish forever. And when the next Aether was born, it would not be him anymore. That Aether would begin from the bottom. This Aether would be erased.
Aether only smiled, though, a faint, tired curve of his lips. "Believe ... I am not losing anything. I know what I’m doing," he muttered gently, almost tenderly, as though whispering a secret to himself, as if he carried a certainty no one else could see... that he had a way to bring her back.
[... 😔]
Aether closed his eyes, letting his consciousness slowly drift. The rope, the body, the trembling soul all faded as he slipped deeper.
He connected his consciousness with his bloodline... not because he desired it, but because the twin figures within him demanded it.
Haha... what?
It was ridiculous, wasn’t it?
He had never once contacted them before, never reached for that connection, and now the first ti he did, they imdiately set a trial before him... forcing him to prove himself, forcing him to endure just to see what he was capable of?
Hell nah!
The test they gave was brutal, forcing him to link his very bloodline to his consciousness.
And that was supposed to be easy?
No!!
Well... Yes? he did think it was easy... but the pressure of being among countless versions of himself, the weight of losing his own mind, and the horror of being trapped in an endless swarm of his other Aethers—screaming, clawing, touching, and never shutting up—was unbearable.
It wasn’t easy at all.
And connecting his bloodline to his consciousness... he had only managed a fragnt of it.
After all, his bloodline was still a mystery.
Sure, it could bend ti, twist it like a thread between fingers... but had he ever controlled ti in his consciousness state?
No.
He just used his own blood to reach his others... nothing more. There was nothing grand or glorious about it.
But still... he had managed to connect it.
Not because he wanted to.
But because... they wanted it!
So now, instead of his will driving the action, he was being dragged, pushed, forced by sothing external.
Even if it was his beloveds, it was still an outside force pressing him into a corner.
Aether’s consciousness drifted and drifted, the edges of his mind unravelling, until only a ghostly, pale face remained... round and glowing faintly like a ball of light floating in the deep black void.
Before him stood... the white door. And beside it... the black figure.
Mist poured around its body, shrouding it in darkness, its armour swaying like it belonged to a phantom.
Ghostly, yet not truly a ghost.
As always, the black figure seed to know exactly what Aether was about to do. It had been waiting for him, ready to block, ready to deny, ready to annoy him the mont he tried to step toward the door. It was prepared, like always... ready to stop him again.
However—
"Nyx is on the verge of dying... I need to talk to her."
Aether’s voice rang clear.
The figure flinched, the mist shifting around it. Its head tilted as if in thought. A frown pulled across its hidden face as it stared at Aether for several long seconds, as though searching him, weighing his truth. For a brief mont, nothing happened—until Aether felt a strange pulling sensation, sothing deep inside of him tugged toward the figure.
As if it were checking his mories?
Then, finally, the figure frowned again and said,
"She is not needed."
Aether’s eyes narrowed, "Needed? What do you an? She’s not needed? Motherfucker, I’m not asking you if she’s needed or not. I need her. So fuck off."
The black figure stiffened, its mist curling tighter, then raised its hand slowly, as if to say it would not allow him to pass.
Aether’s teeth ground together, "I see... Well then, I’ll die with her too. After all, she holds the contract, right? If the contract holder isn’t in this world, then I disappear too. What a predicant... how tragic." He let out a heavy sigh, his tone dripping with exaggerated worry.
The black figure flinched at those words, the mist twitching for the briefest second.
Aether’s sharp gaze caught it. A thin smirk tugged at his lips. He pressed forward, leaning into his act, raising it to an almost theatrical display.
"Oh my goodness... I’m the only person who reached this level so fast, the only one who even managed to awaken my bloodline... sothing nobody, and I an NOBODY, has ever done before.
Sigh... What are the chances the next Aether will be able to repeat that? Maybe one in a hundred... nah, I’m too much of a freak. Maybe one in ten thousand... sniff, sniff... maybe even less."
His voice cracked with sorrow, his head bowing dramatically as though overco with despair.
"May the gods bless you... Take care, my buddy~"
Aether let his ghostly flas sway, waving them lazily at the black figure as though bidding a final farewell.... playful, and deadly serious all at once.
The black figure clenched its fist as it lowered its head, shadows rippling over its mist-shrouded armour. Aether curiously watched, eyes narrowing, lips twitching into a faint grin.
He was losing ti, of course... every second spent here chipped away at his existence. But this—this was the only way forward.
He had to push this guy.
Of course Aether knew the truth. He was needed—for the twin figures, for the contract, and for this man standing before him. After all, the current Aether was the only one who had ever activated his bloodline. It wasn’t a bluff. It wasn’t even an exaggeration. Who knew if the next Aether would ever achieve the sa?
Here, there were countless possibilities and countless dangers. If this black figure really was Aether himself, then the situation beca a chess match—a ga neither side could afford to lose, no matter the cost.
Even so, whatever that thing was behind the white door—whatever this figure was protecting—it had to be worth less than Aether himself otherwise... He fucked up!
Aether’s eyes followed the figure, watching its body tremble faintly. His grin widened. ’Co on! Decide already!’ he scread inwardly, his mind beginning to slip, drifting as if sothing inside him was shifting out of place.
Just then, the figure raised a single finger.
"Hmm?" Aether blinked.
"One second,"
The figure said, its voice low and steady, before slowly turning to open the white door.
Aether’s eyes widened for a heartbeat, then he broke into a smile. ’Fuck you, man~’ he giggled, almost dancing in the air as he rushed forward, slipping into the opening as the door creaked wider.
What was inside?
What kind of space existed beyond this door?
What would his soul truly look like?
For a fleeting instant, just a fraction of his ghostly head managed to slip inside the door’s depths, and then—
!~Ding~!
[Trinity: 10↑]
The black figure yanked him violently back out of the door, slamming it shut in one motion.
"One second over," the figure said, indifferent, as its gaze locked on him.
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