Tower of Endless: Death Granted Entry

”You want it back?” Ed halted, looking back at Samuel.

”You had other plans for it.”

Samuel went silent for a moment. ”Well,” he said, ”I just don’t feel like giving it to him. He’ll either act too proud and never use it until he gets himself killed or abuse it on the wrong people for stupid grudges.” With that, Ed turned around once again.

Samuel remained in place, and looked into the dark sky. ”What are we doing now?” he asked, the question that had lingered for a while.

Next morning, Dorbish woke up early. He snuck out of the room, leaving Moon sleeping; he was breathing audibly, indicating his fatigue, so Dorbish decided not to wake him up.

Yet, Moon stayed asleep the entire day.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Moon woke up, forgetting about Dorbish, who was supposed to be sleeping somewhere around the room.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he closed them again.

He went back and forth, sleeping in every possible position. He didn’t feel like waking up, nor did he want to leave his bed.

His hand didn’t seek Liquid Mountain like it usually did; instead, he didn’t even check if it was still there.

For the first time, he didn’t secure his weapon the moment he opened his eyes. Even though it should have been an improvement, his mind was far from having improved.

Moon realized he was unable to go back to sleep. He gave up and stared at the ceiling.

He didn’t question how much time he had slept; he felt fatigued and somewhat lethargic. His body even felt heavy, so heavy that he didn’t feel like his legs had the strength to stand and leave the bed.

He absentmindedly kept looking into nothing. ”What am I doing here?” he asked himself.

Moon once again wasn’t sure about his current state.

He closed his eyes, unable to resist it; whatever he was feeling, he wasn’t able to resist nor process.

”Why only now?” He held his chest, feeling empty. His heart was hollow, devoid of anything: desires or dreams.

There was an unspeakable something creeping in, replacing everything that had once filled his heart and driven him to stay sane when he shouldn’t.

Instead, he was afraid.

Afraid of what was waiting for him, afraid of not having anyone to feed him. Afraid of suddenly not having anyone by his side. Afraid of having no place to return to or live in.

He looked around the room: the spoils of battle were around, as well as the empty bucket of chicken popcorn.

Moon felt crippled in more than one way.

His mind was failing to process time, his condition, and the cause behind what he was feeling.

But he didn’t give up. He was far more afraid of getting lost in his current state than anything else.

His hand suddenly started scratching a certain spot on his neck.

His mind went back in time, to the memories of his past: the time when he was a slave.

The long years of abuse, but what he remembered most was something else.

What came to his mind first were his brothers, his victories, his weapons. His mind was slowly painting his past as a glorious one.

”Do I always have to suffer?” he asked himself. ”Do I have to keep fighting not to feel like this?”

His mind started connecting dots.

He only felt this feeling whenever his life began to ease, whenever he could choose what to do next...

”Or maybe...” He thought of another conclusion.

His heart skipped a beat. ”Am I yearning for these times?” he wondered, his voice full of disbelief. ”It’s impossible.”

He felt like his mind was tricking him; his memories were no longer trustworthy.

He forced himself to recall the ugliness of everything there: his early years of near starvation, how he sealed his wounds with mud.

How he never had proper food, and how he never got to get dressed like a free man.

”I’m not yearning for those days,” he spoke, but his heart shook within his chest.

He felt numbness like pain, illusory but also real, crawling over his body... Binding him to his bed.

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

His hand reached under his pillow. ”Right... Maybe dying once again would solve this... I’ve died many times... one more won’t be a problem... right?”

He pulled the knife, the one he had won through the first skirmish round.

He looked at his reflection on the metal; his eyes were fine. The slap mark Mishu had left on him was also gone.

Yet, his face looked fatigued; his eyes were sunken.

His skin was reflective.

He hated how he looked. ”Dying once again would bring me to perfect condition,” he assured himself.

He aimed the knife at his neck and closed his eyes.

[ THE TRIAL IS OVER. ]

[ CONGRATULATIONS. ]

[ YOU CAN DIE AGAIN. ]

These last notifications of the first trial flashed before his closed eyes, forcing his unwavering grip to falter.

Only for a moment.

”So what?” His grip tightened again. ”Still better.”

”Better than what?” Someone suddenly spoke in his room.

Moon opened his eyes and lowered the knife. He lifted his head to see Ed standing in the middle of the room, holding a tray of food that smelled nice.

”How did you get inside?” Moon asked.

”Are you stupid?” Ed asked back. ”I can go anywhere I want.”

Ed paused for a moment before adding, ”Drop that knife. We need to talk.” He spoke calmly.

Moon closed his eyes, lying back, and put aside the knife slowly. ”Why are you here?” he asked.

”You might not be aware, but you’ve been asleep for two days,” Ed said. ”The second round is about to start. I didn’t announce the prize because of that,” he explained.

Moon wasn’t fazed by it in the slightest. He didn’t feel like fighting anyone. He didn’t feel like overexerting himself. He was exhausted as it was, and very heavy as well.

”I’m not fighting this round,” Moon stated flatly.

”That’s fine, but you should eat and hydrate well... Your Echo is useless in that regard.” Ed wasn’t bothered by Moon’s attitude, nor did he show any anger. Instead, he was calmly, almost playfully speaking with him.

”I’m not hungry.”

”Of course you aren’t. Not until you start hydrating that body of yours, that is.” Ed walked closer to Moon. A large bottle of water appeared in his hand.

”Here, drink slowly,” he offered.

Moon looked at the bottle a couple of times before finally forcing himself to sit up.

He started taking small sips; Ed meanwhile pulled the chair of the desk and sat down while setting the tray aside.

He waved his hand, and a reddish bubble of Echo surrounded it.

For some time, Ed only watched Moon slowly drinking small sips of water. As for Moon, he kept looking at the ground, not bothering to make eye contact with Ed.

After waiting for Moon to finish around a quarter of the bottle, Ed finally spoke. ”Are you okay?”

Moon didn’t answer immediately. He closed his eyes for a moment.

He took another sip, swallowing loudly.

Moon raised his eyes to Ed’s. ”No.”