Far Beyond the Abyss

— Your souls.

Those words echoed with the weight of a funeral bell, but their impact was deeper, more visceral. It wasn't just the sound—it was the essence behind them, something that seemed to take root in Ethan's mind, tearing at his sanity. He felt as though he were sinking into a swamp of darkness, each breath harder than the last. The world around him dissolved into shadows and whispers, distorting his perception.

The words carried something beyond comprehension. They weren't merely a threat; they were a portal to something unspeakable.

Ethan tried to fight the despair, but his body wouldn't respond. It was as if he were trapped between reality and a nightmare from which he couldn't wake.

Then, a gentle light pierced through the darkness. A voice—calm, firm, filled with wisdom—filled the void, cutting through the terror like a blade that separates chaos from order. It was Lian Xuan's voice.

*"The wind dances, yet never loses its way.

The river flows, yet never rushes.

The thunder roars, yet always fades.

Calm is born where the mind rests.

Breathe in the moment, embrace the chaos.

Within the void, balance grows.

Neither fear nor doubt—only the now.

Like the sky itself, your soul remains clear."*

The words were like an anchor, pulling Ethan back to reality. He could breathe again, and the suffocating sensation faded. His mind cleared, and warmth returned to his body. He didn't know how, but he was certain he owed his sanity to the presence of the cultivator.

"Thank you…" he thought, hoping, somehow, that Lian Xuan could hear him.

But the tension still hung heavy in the air. The villagers, who had previously been lost in mundane routines, were now frozen in place. Every single one of them had their eyes locked onto the group—unblinking, motionless, like puppets whose strings had just been pulled. Something was deeply, profoundly wrong.

And then, everything changed.

The air wavered, like the shimmer of light on water. The crushing pressure vanished in an instant, replaced by a scene Ethan knew all too well.

He was once again at the village entrance. The group stood gathered around the Mad Sorcerer, exactly as before.

The Sorcerer, as if nothing had happened, was once again repeating his words with theatrical exaggeration:

— "Good afternoon, my fine mammalian sir! We seem to be a bit lost. Could you help us?"

But this time, something was different. As he performed his dramatic bow, a pumpkin tumbled from his head, rolling onto the ground from seemingly nowhere. Ethan blinked, confused. He had no idea where the pumpkin had come from, but that mattered far less than the overwhelming sense of déjà vu gripping him.

He glanced around, trying to make sense of it all. Everything appeared exactly as it had in the previous cycle. The group followed the same patterns—Seryne and Kaerith approaching the lizard merchant, Kiyoshi and Zeta 4 scouting different parts of the village. And him, stuck in the middle, a disposable piece on a board he didn't understand.

But there was one subtle, chilling difference. The little girl on Korrak's shoulder. Her eyes glowed, locked onto Ethan. She was staring at him with an intensity that felt like it was piercing into his very soul. He quickly averted his gaze, but the discomfort remained, like an invisible mark she had left on him.

Ethan tried to steady himself. He scanned the group for Lian Xuan, hoping to find solace in the cultivator's presence. But he wasn't there.

"This isn't good," Ethan thought, his heart pounding. Lian Xuan—someone so powerful, so composed—shouldn't have simply vanished. The cultivator's absence was like a gaping void, more terrifying than anything else at that moment.

He turned his eyes toward the center of the village. The well still reflected the star-filled desert sky, and the great tree beside it stood just as it had before. Its twisted branches seemed to form shifting patterns under the well's eerie glow. Everything looked exactly the same as before, but now, without Lian Xuan, the wrongness felt even more pronounced.

"If Lian Xuan fell… what will happen to us?" Ethan thought, panic creeping into his mind.

He knew he had to act—had to do something before it was too late. But doubt gnawed at him. Was he the only one who noticed? Was he alone in this?

Then, he remembered Seryne's words before all of this began:

"Listen to the Sorcerer."

The phrase had seemed simple before, but now it carried an entirely new weight. Perhaps the Sorcerer was the key to everything. Perhaps his madness was the only thing capable of unraveling the knots of this distorted reality.

Ethan made his decision. He took a step toward the Sorcerer. Each movement felt heavier, as if the very world was resisting him. But before he could reach him, the air thickened again. Distant laughter and discordant whispers flooded his mind. The sound wasn't coming from around him—it was coming from inside his own head. The world darkened once more.

When he opened his eyes, he was back. The same scene. The Sorcerer, now wearing a top hat that hadn't been there before, was bowing before the white rat once again:

— "Good afternoon, my fine mammalian sir! We seem to be a bit lost. Could you help us?"

Ethan felt a knot tighten in his throat. The cycle had restarted. Once more, he was trapped in the same moment, with the same crushing sense of powerlessness.

"How long is this going to keep happening?" he thought, as the scream of frustration in his mind echoed yet again.