Saga of sequence

Sam sat in a meditative position, surrounded by an endless expanse of absolute whiteness. This wasn't just any ordinary space; it was the White Space he had created himself—a place where he would test his ability to remain sane amid the void. According to the vow he had imposed using Nen, he would not be allowed to leave until he completed a full year in this deadly emptiness.

Sam knew this decision might be the most dangerous thing he had ever undertaken, but his goal was worth the risk.

In the early days, everything seemed simple. "I am Sam. I want immortality. This is just deep meditation." These words echoed confidently in his mind as he observed his surroundings in stillness.

The White Space was completely silent—no sound, no movement, just infinite emptiness.

But this silence was far from comforting. As time passed, he began to feel the weight of this stillness, as if the void was pressing in on him from all sides. There were no external stimuli—no sun or moon, no changes in light or temperature—only whiteness.

With no markers of time, he began to lose his sense of it. "Have hours passed? Or days?" These thoughts began to creep into his mind, but this was just the beginning.

After a week in this void, things began to change. His mind, which he thought he had complete control over, started turning against him. There were no sounds or movements, but old memories began to seep into his consciousness.

Scenes from his childhood, mistakes he had made in the past, moments he regretted. At first, he tried to ignore them, but the longer he stayed, the clearer and more insistent the memories became. There was no escape from them.

Then, the doubts began to creep in. "Is this a real test? Or have I fallen into a trap with no way out?" He began to question everything, even himself.

As weeks passed, the psychological pressure became unbearable. He began to hear faint whispers. At first, he thought they were just tricks of his mind, but he soon realized they were more than that.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"You're not strong enough."

These voices came from within, but they didn't sound like his usual inner voice. They were a distorted version of himself, feeding on his fear and weakness.

By the third month, the White Space transformed into something far more terrifying. It was no longer just a silent void—it became a place teeming with illusions. He started to feel phantoms around him, moving slowly as if watching him.

He saw familiar faces from his past, people he had loved and others he had hated. He couldn't tell if these illusions were just parts of his mind or if the space itself had begun to work against him. Even though his eyes were closed in meditation, he could still see them.

The voices grew louder. They were no longer whispers—they became screams and hysterical laughter. He heard his own voice, but not as he knew it. It was a voice that mocked him, threatened him, and questioned his ability to continue.

"You're just a coward."

"You'll never get out of here."

"This is your end."

By mid-year, Sam began to feel a loss of identity. He was no longer sure of his name or why he was here. Everything became blurry. Sometimes, he would wake from a brief blackout, unable to remember when he had lost consciousness, as if his mind was fighting to protect him from something within.

He began to see things he couldn't explain, even though his eyes were closed. The illusions became incredibly real. He could feel touches on his skin, as if someone was standing behind him.

By the ninth month, Sam felt like he was nearing the edge. He could no longer distinguish between reality and illusion. He saw himself as a monster, gradually transforming into a being that had lost all humanity.

"What am I?"

"Why am I here?"

"Was I trying to escape death... or did I willingly enter my own grave?"

These questions spun in his head constantly. Even the idea of immortality, which he had clung to, became distorted. "What's the point of immortality if I lose myself?"

But deep within, there was a small voice still resisting. "I am Sam. I want immortality. I must succeed." These words were his lifeline—the only thing anchoring him to reality.

When the year finally ended, Sam felt something shift. There was no sound or light, just an internal sensation—as if a chain binding his mind and body had begun to dissolve.

He opened his eyes to find himself back in the real world. His body was exhausted, and his spirit drained. His eyes were empty, like mirrors reflecting the void he had faced.

But he survived.

He had fulfilled the Nen vow he imposed on himself. Yet he knew that a small part of him remained trapped in that White Space, locked in that eternal void.

And this was only the beginning.