Confident that he was no longer being hunted down, Rob slowed until his limbs were barely moving. The nervousness and urgency he had experienced for the last few hours gradually left him, surrendering his poor unrested brain to the merciless, cold waves of uncertainty.

  What now?

  The answer to his question came in the form of a silent gaze lingering on his back.

  The same golden liquid stare fixated on him, watching. "What do you think, buddy?" Rob asked.

  No reaction. Rob sighed and left the eerie bird to its devices.

  He had learned enough about this crazy, unchanging world he'd been thrown into—or at least, enough to make a decision. The information was sparse and the source questionable, but it would have to do.

  Then there was the blind boy he'd left behind. Rob couldn't just abandon him. Either he'd have to go back and bring him down to become a settler, or if Rob chose to climb, bring him along.

  Rob twisted his lips inward, a habit from when he concentrated on troublesome problems. Once again, that unpleasant tightness coiled around his chest like a hanging rope, making him feel as if he were breathing mud instead of air.

  He damn well hated not knowing what to do. Rob was a person with few regrets—not that he seldom made mistakes, but he rarely regretted the decisions he made. He never looked back, always asking: What can I do better, not what should I have done better?

  That's why suffocation gripped him now when he couldn't decide. He knew he shouldn't feel this way. There was no wrong or right, only what suited him best.

  Yet two versions of himself constantly clashed. One Rob was covered in dirt and grime, snarling and behaving like a rabid dog. The other was excited, adventurous, full of dreams—always running from death, and more often than not, death catching up to him in the most tormenting ways.

  In the end, Rob did something he abhorred: he delayed the decision. Against every part of himself, he chose to continue down without purpose or goal.

  The battle between the two Robs raged inside while he descended, time passing slow as ice.

  His journey wasn't uneventful, though. He encountered many small gatherings like the one where he'd met Azura, and in all of them, his reception was the same.

  Whenever he went closer to somebody, they would give a demon's glare, show their fangs, and tense their muscles to pounce at him if he got any nearer.

  He felt they might attack even if he kept his distance.

  At that moment, the memory of a dark blue-haired mad girl curling up the corners of her mouth in a promise of certain death resurfaced in his mind.

  Upon noticing their malicious intentions, Rob would put on his best "I'm dangerous" face, then take out his dinner knife and draw the flat side under his chin. The scavengers would change direction, as if they'd never meant to come his way at all.

  Like an animal realizing its prey had teeth, and the meal would come with bites—not from its mouth.

  At first, he didn't give up. He raised his hands, shouted peace and love with every part of his body. Yet they never listened, always looking like they'd eat him alive if he tried approaching their pathetic villages.

  So he left, again and again, until even the small gatherings became rare. Finally, they disappeared altogether. He had descended so low that even the original inhabitants were afraid to go there.

  In the last few gatherings, he noticed some people gave him more than the usual stares of hatred. They looked at him with mockery and disgust. The looks were so brief he thought he'd imagined them. And even if he hadn't, why would it matter? Fuck them and their opinions. He kept his pace, not giving a damn about those savages.

  Inside his mind, the dog whimpered, beaten and pushed to a corner by the adventurous Rob, about to take the final blow that would seal his doom.

  After a long time, Rob finally accepted what he was doing could only be called stubbornness. In an exemplary display of the sunk-cost fallacy, he kept descending, driven by nothing but lethal hope. At first, he believed he'd find someone who'd genuinely help—not like that swindler. Then, when everyone turned out to be selfish assholes, he lied to himself, claiming he was just examining settlements to find the best option.

  And finally, after all the settlements ended and he reached this empty stretch, he still kept moving, searching for something, anything, in this uninterrupted world of white.

  After another alarm from the system—energy at 10%—Rob had almost made up his mind to head back up.

  But Fate wasn't merciful and didn't let him leave in peace.

  After dismissing the alarm, Rob gave one last glance toward the unseen bottom in this landless world.

  And that's when he saw it.

  The change, the interruption, the reason to continue. There, he glimpsed a brief, barely noticeable line of black, cutting through the dominant tyranny of luminous white.

  A drowning man wouldn't refuse the shore. Likewise, Rob wouldn't ignore this strange phenomenon. He’d tested the normal of the wall, and the test was bitter, to say the least.

  He'd been forced to move without rest or purpose, never knowing when he'd find shelter or food. And he'd killed for the first time—because he asked for help.

  That was the usual here in this crazy world. Just like the white seemed to be normal. So if this shadowy area promised change, he needed to find out what it was. He had to find out what it was.

  Hence, Without thinking how no one seemed willing to go there, or how far the distance was, he reasoned himself into sinking down and down.

  The black line never got closer. The more he tried to reach it, the more it receded.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  During it all, the golden bird mutely watched. Sometimes Rob talked to it, though it never responded. Other times, he shouted, swore, and scolded the hateful thing.

  With the passing of time, the worm of doubt commenced its meal inside his brain. he felt tired, exhausted, his energy almost depleted. When his energy level dropped below 5%, he was scared. He feared What would happen at 0%.

  Thankfully, He didn't have to find out. At 1%, a prompt appeared suddenly before his eyes.

  [Your energy is almost fully depleted. Please consume energy card or resume climbing to replenish your energy reserves]

  [Energy 10E detected in your set, would you like to consume it?]

  [Yes, No]

  Rob didn't hesitate. He selected Yes with all his mental power.

  [Energy card 10E successfully absorbed.]

  Soon after, his energy level almost recovered to the fullest. Rob felt as if he had taken a nourishing meal after a day of starvation, leaving his body fully rejuvenated. Not just his body, but also his mind was refreshed—sharp and clear, as if he had just awoken from a full night of deep, healthy sleep. In mere moments, he had transformed into the best shape he had ever been in.

  "Oh, that could be addicting," Rob mused to himself. "Hold on—could energy be the drugs of this world?"

  ***

  When Rob finally reached what he thought was his first landing, he knew deep down he'd made a grave mistake.

  The same feeling of indecision gripped him as he stood there, gazing down at the blackened land. Only a few steps separated him from touching ground after God knows how long spent clinging to the wall like a monkey.

  The shadowy stretch screamed danger. In a world of eternal daylight, any place this gloomy and dark had to be wrong. Especially when, despite being the only solid ground in sight, no one had chosen it as home.

  The place was barren—a black, dead desert that reeked of corpses and misery. He was certain that if he stepped into these lands, nothing awaited him but death.

  Rob was afraid, terrified even. He didn't know why, but any thought of getting any closer to this earth filled him with unexplainable dread and horror.

  He'd been wrong to come here, and he wasn't foolish enough to deny it.

  He did not regret his choice to continue, but now he had far too much to think about. This time, he had really fucked up.

  First, he was almost lost. When he'd left his blind companion, he hadn't meant to go this far. He might find his way back. But even if he knew the way, he wasn't sure he could climb it. His pitiful 13% energy wouldn't get him to where he'd met the crazy local, let alone higher to where he needed to be.

  And finally, even if by some miracle he managed all that and reached their spot again, he dreaded what he might find there. Because, to be honest, whenever he thought of the boy he had promised to return to, all Rob could imagine was a shriveled, mutilated corpse.

  "Useless," he hissed. "All this thinking is useless. I should leave before it's too late.

  "But it was already too late. He just didn't know it yet.

  As soon as he moved to climb, something below stirred.

  He turned his back to the black land and raised his right hand to start climbing. Then he stopped, feeling the change in the wind.

  First came the stillness in the air, as if another wall had risen behind him. Then the darkness engulfed his body. A vast shadow of something colossal swallowed all the light from the heavens.

  Slowly, he turned his head, expecting the worst, only to realize that his worst was an optimistic dream compared to the grim reality before him.

  The black land surged upward with the hunger and malice of a starving devil. His first thought—some great monster had chosen this moment to ambush him, rising from underground after realizing he was escaping.

  And now, he wished that were true.

  Because when he looked down with eyes full of raw, unfiltered terror, he saw nothing—only shifting black sand and hollow emptiness. No monster was crawling up from the depths.

  Rob jerked his neck upward so violently that he smashed the back of his head against the wall.

  There he clearly saw it. A monster—he'd just been looking in the wrong place. It wasn't emerging from the earth. The earth itself was the monster.

  No, that was no earth. It wasn't made of black sand, or ashen dirt, or even mountainous rock. Instead, it was a living creature, or more accurate to say, an innumerable swarm of living creatures. A countless number of insects piled and layered atop one another, shaping that abominable imitation of land in this groundless world.

  The realization dawned on Rob a split second before the dark, unstoppable wave came crashing down on him. Like a ravenous beast opening its maw, the beetle sea grow closer and closer until it devoured him in a single bite.

  He knew there was no escape when his scream of terror died in his throat, trapped behind his insect-filled mouth.

  His stupid brain, however, refused to believe it. So he resisted.

  He clung to the wall, refusing to be dragged into this living ocean. His legs kicked mightily downward, head and shoulders constantly jerking without pause. Despite the mountainous weight pushing him down, he tried to climb upward with every inch of his body.

  None of it changed a thing. It was all useless, just the futile struggles of a dead man.

  The thing wasn't just a wave in name but also in motion. It sucked him back as it receded, and his desperate hold on the wall proved useless against the combined might of tons of insects. Then came the pain. His kicking legs and flailing hands began to burn, aching as if sliced open by razor-sharp teeth.

  Because they were.

  Bit by bit, the damnable insects devoured his flesh. Worse still, they drained the very life from his body with every bite.

  He was dying—there was no doubt. No matter how slow the process, he was dying.

  And as a final act of cruelty, this mad world denied him the right to a quick end.

  The beetles drowning him could strip him to bone in seconds, yet that never happened. More than a minute had passed, and Rob had only begun to feel the pain at the surface of his skin.

  He even hoped he might suffocate before the beetles truly killed him.

  But even that small hope was stolen. A violent surge, probably another wave of these demonic creatures racing to take a sweet bite of delicious Rob, sent him hurtling into the air, where he involuntarily inhaled a greedy gulp of air.

  Feeling the touch of the warm sunlight for the final time, he began to fall into the hungry embrace of thousands of creatures.

  And in those last moments, he was proud to claim he did not fear death. The expression of dread and horror frozen on his face slowly softened, until only a faint, almost unnoticeable smile remained on his bloody, disfigured features.

  His lips quivered, trying to utter some final words, but his mouth failed him. In the end, only two words escaped his dying body:

  "Finally over."

  Summoning all his remaining willpower, he forced open his sticky, bloodshot eyes, casting a final glance of farewell at a world he hadn't belonged to.

  The last thing he saw was a scene both beautiful and pitiful beyond words.

  Beautiful—because before him the sky was adorned with twin golden suns, growing bigger and bigger before the pale white wall. Pitiful because Rob knew it wasn't real, only a final gift from his fading imaginative mind.

  Deciding that for once his illustrative head gave him something good, he let his eyes droop, ready to close them for good this time. Until they snapped open again on their own.

  "Wait… I know those golden orbs," he tried to say, but no voice came out.

  How could he not? They'd been at his back since he began his descent. The eyes of the luminous, taciturn bird that had been stalking him all along.

  "Beautiful…" Rob whispered. It was the most beautiful bird he had ever seen, and he was truly glad that such a stunning creature would be the last thing he saw.

  Even if the creature seemed to be swooping in to snatch a piece of his dying body before the beetles devoured it all.

  He didn't mind. He didn't mind at all. The patient bird deserved it. No, really. It had followed him all this time, waiting for this moment—when he would finally die—to take its share.

  That was why he didn't close his eyes. He simply watched as the bird grew larger and larger, praying silently in his heart for it to go for his neck. In his mind, he begged it to grant him one last kindness: to end his misery a little early.

  When the luminous bird descended upon him, Rob braced himself for the pain that never came. He expected, hoped even, that it would tear open its jagged beak and rip a big chunk from his neck. And if not that, if it proved to be slightly greedier, it would drive its talons into his body, tear away a limb or a few ribs, and vanish into the horizon with its prize.

  Instead, it kept flying at full speed straight toward him, zeroing in on his face until it was eye to eye with him. Then, without slowing, it phased directly into his head.

  Then Rob saw gold.