Lost In Fatal Existence

The world around Ryuta was an oppressive void, a black sea that swallowed everything in its path. He had no memory of how long he had been here—no sense of time, no landmarks to hold onto. Only the endless darkness and the haunting sensation that death was waiting for him. It wasn't real, not in the traditional sense, but that didn't stop him from feeling every bit of it.

His mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. The fight against Joker and The Magician. The battle had been intense, a blur of magic and chaos. He could remember the moment when the world seemed to crack, when he had been separated from his friends.

Then nothing.

No air. No light. Just darkness. And the feeling that death was coming.

Ryuta staggered to his feet, his body still aching from an injury he couldn't remember sustaining. His heart was beating too fast, and yet the pulse felt wrong—slow, like it was dragging him into some unseen abyss.

"No," Ryuta muttered to himself, pushing forward, but with each step, the ground beneath him seemed to shift and dissolve. He felt like he was slipping, like the very world was fighting to drag him under. Every breath he took felt shallow, as if there wasn't enough air in this place to sustain him.

He stopped, his vision swimming as he tried to focus. He couldn't even see his hands in front of his face. The weight of hopelessness threatened to crush him.

He had died, hadn't he? It was the only explanation that made sense. His body had failed him in the battle, and now, he was stuck here—alone in the void, endlessly teetering on the edge of death.

The emptiness around him was suffocating. It wasn't just the silence—it was the knowledge that death was no longer something distant. It was inevitable, always looming, waiting to claim him. Over and over again.

He fell to his knees, his breath ragged. The crushing weight of his isolation was unbearable. What if he died here? What if this was where he was meant to die—alone, forgotten?

"Why?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Why am I still here? Why haven't I died already? Why can't I just go back?"

But the emptiness didn't answer.

And then, for the first time, a voice broke through the silence—a voice that was his own, but not his own.

"You'll never escape," it said, mocking him. "You'll die, and die, and die again. Trapped in this world of nothingness. Do you even know what you're fighting for anymore?"

Ryuta's chest tightened, and his vision blurred. He was falling again. The world around him twisted into nothingness, like he was being swallowed whole. His body ached as he collapsed, the pain of his imagined death more real than anything.

---

He woke again, gasping, the emptiness still surrounding him.

Again.

The feeling of his death had been so vivid. So real. Each time he had died, it had been more agonizing than the last. Each death wore him down further, eroding his resolve.

But no. He wasn't dead. He refused to be.

Ryuta stood once more, his body shaking. The cruel, mocking voice was still with him, but now, it was quieter. Fainter. He couldn't let it consume him.

His mind flashed back to his friends—Alexia, Roy, Merlin, Parker, Zhen—they were all out there. They were still alive, still fighting. He couldn't afford to break down here, to be lost in this cycle of death. He had to find a way out. He had to find a way to move forward.

This wasn't real. The endless dying, the hopelessness—it was a lie.

The voice in the dark laughed again, a low, mocking chuckle.

"You can't fight fate, Ryuta. You can't escape yourself."

Ryuta gritted his teeth, anger rising in his chest. He would not accept this. He refused to let this illusion dictate his life.

"I will not die here!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the void, louder and more powerful than before.

And slowly, the darkness began to shift. For the first time, it seemed to hesitate, pulling back just a little. A crack appeared in the ground beneath him—a thin line of light breaking through the eternal black.

Ryuta's heart pounded in his chest. He took a step forward, then another. With every movement, the ground solidified beneath his feet. The suffocating weight of the darkness seemed to recede, ever so slightly.

He was getting through it. He was breaking free.

---

The blackness didn't completely vanish, but it began to fade, giving way to a subtle, aching light. Ryuta could see shapes now—figures flickering in and out of his vision. He could feel the presence of his friends, not in their physical form, but as a spark of hope in his heart.

He wasn't alone.

The illusion had tried to trap him, to drown him in despair and fear of death. But Ryuta realized now that it wasn't his time. He would not succumb to the endless cycle of dying.

He still had a reason to fight.

And as he walked forward, the blackness slowly parted, revealing a path to something else—a way forward.

Fatal was not his end.

It was just another trial.