At that moment, everything was still a complete mystery to me. Then, out of nowhere, a wild thought shot through my mind like lightning: what if I really had gone back in time? I know how that sounds—completely insane—but considering we were dealing with an anomaly, maybe it wasn’t as far-fetched as it seemed.
And yet, something still didn’t add up. If I hadn’t actually gone back in time, then why did everything feel like it had reset to the beginning? Every detail around me screamed familiarity, but the weight in my chest told me that something was fundamentally different.
Why do I think that? Pure instinct. Something deep inside me kept insisting that whatever was happening wasn’t just a simple rewind in time—or at least, not just that. The more I thought about it, the more distorted the whole situation felt, like there were hidden layers lurking just beneath the surface.
In the end, the strangeness only grew stronger, and I felt that if I kept overthinking it, I’d lose myself in that tangle of possibilities. So, I took a deep breath and shoved the thought to the back of my mind—for now, at least.
But the moment I pushed those thoughts away, another quietly formed in my head, as though it had been whispered into existence by the trees around me. My eyes scanned the forest, following the lazy sway of the leaves in the gentle breeze. A faint shiver ran down my neck—not out of fear, but uncertainty: (So... where was I supposed to go now?)
Thankfully, I didn’t have to wonder for long. Not that some magical path appeared before me, showing me the way—nothing that convenient. Instead, after standing still for a few seconds, I simply started walking aimlessly, letting my feet choose the direction for me.
Something inside me said that if I just kept exploring the forest, sooner or later, something would happen. The wet leaves crunched under my bare feet with every step, and the air, thick with sap and earth, almost seemed to invite me deeper in.
For the record, I had these thoughts about thirty minutes ago—which means it’s been exactly thirty minutes since I started walking. And in all that time, nothing really happened... except for the constant sound of the wind, making the leaves rustle like an endless whisper.
Even so, something still felt off. For a while now, a strange sense of urgency had been gnawing at the back of my mind, like the very air around me was trying to hurry me along.
For some reason, I felt like I had left something behind—something that shouldn’t have been forgotten. But the more I tried to grab hold of the memory, the more it slipped away, like sand running through my fingers.
It wasn’t like I had truly forgotten it... it felt more like something I was never meant to remember in the first place. Strange, I know, but that’s exactly what it felt like—as if a shadow lingered just beyond the edge of my awareness, silently watching me.
Either way, I tried to ignore the feeling, but the more I focused on it, the more it pushed me not to keep going—or at least, not along the same path I’d chosen before. Before I even realized it, my feet had already strayed from the original trail, leading me down a completely different path, almost as if they had a will of their own.
With every step, the trees grew farther apart, slowly opening into a small clearing. Moonlight broke through the forest canopy, bathing the area in soft silver light and casting long shadows that seemed to dance around me, as though the very forest itself was watching.
I couldn’t say exactly what brought me here. Or rather, technically, it wasn’t even me who chose to come here—my own senses had guided me, like something beyond my will was pulling the strings. The reason behind it was still a complete mystery, and that only made the unease in my chest grow heavier.
Either way, there wasn’t much else to do but look around. I took a deep breath and decided to investigate the place. That’s when something broke my train of thought. A sharp, wet, revolting sound—like flesh being torn apart—cut through the silence, repeating over and over until it was impossible to ignore.
If I’m being honest, that sound had been there since the moment I realized I was in this forest—always present, lingering. It had been so clear it almost felt like it was echoing right next to me, as if something had been following me step for step. And yet, I kept trying to ignore it, convincing myself it was all in my head—maybe just a trick of the mind brought on by the suffocating silence all around me.
But this time, when I turned toward the noise, my eyes finally made out a few shapes—grotesque, dog-like anomalies, all huddled around a single point on the ground, as though something had drawn them there.
I can’t explain why, but a chill ran down my spine, and before I knew it, my feet were already moving on their own, carrying me toward the pack. It was like something invisible was pulling me forward, whispering silently that I had to see this up close.
It was strange... the closer I got, the stronger that feeling became, creeping through me like a slow, unpleasant shiver. It was almost like nausea—something that genuinely caught me off guard. Ever since I became an anomaly, my body had all but stopped reacting to anything unusual.
This was the first time, in a very long time, that I had felt something so physical, so uncomfortable... a raw, almost suffocating sensation that reminded me I was still capable of feeling anything at all. Maybe that’s why it was so disturbing—it wasn’t just discomfort, it was a reminder of something I thought I had lost forever.
Either way, as I drew closer, the wet, tearing, chewing noises grew sharper and sharper, like something was ripping apart flesh just a few steps ahead. Each squelch made my stomach twist.
Soon, a strange smell began to fill the air—thick, metallic, almost suffocating. There was something disturbingly familiar about that smell, like an old, unwanted memory, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t place it.
And of course, those creatures—things only vaguely resembling dogs—that seemed to be feasting on something on the ground, weren’t completely oblivious to me. The instant they noticed me, they all froze at once, as though a single thought had passed through a shared mind. Then, slowly, they rose to their feet, their skeletal silhouettes standing out starkly against the dim light.
It was at that moment that I realized something even more grotesque: their bellies split open in a jagged cut that started just below the chin—if you could even call that thing a chin—and ran all the way down to where, on any normal creature, the genitals should have been. The gash pulsed faintly, as if it were breathing, and a wet shine caught the little light in the room.
An instant later, the cut tore unnaturally wide, ripping open to both sides as though the flesh itself had a will of its own. From within emerged a seemingly endless row of yellowed, brittle teeth, some of them coated with a dark slime that glistened under the dim light.
A putrid, suffocating stench poured out, the smell of rot so strong it felt like it was sticking to my throat. And then, at that exact moment, the teeth moved in perfect unison and shot toward me, as if the entire creature had been hurled forward. Still, to my own surprise, I felt no panic at all.
On the contrary, a strange calm washed over me, as if my body already knew what to do. Maybe it was because, deep down, I remembered perfectly well the first time I ever saw one of these things—and how, despite the horror, I made it out alive.
I was terrified—more than I ever thought I could be. One of those things ripped my arm off in a single, brutal motion, without hesitation, and devoured it right there, in front of my eyes. The whole ordeal filled me with a deep disgust, a sickening feeling that seemed to corrode my insides.
At that moment, in the midst of terror and pain, I swore to myself that I would never set foot on the forest floor again. Those trees became my only refuge, and I was determined never to climb down from them.
In the end, I realized I didn’t need to eat or drink to stay there. I could remain suspended at the top of the trees for as long as I wanted, watching the world below like a forgotten ghost. And yet, something made me climb down.
I don’t remember exactly what it was—maybe a distant sound, a smell that cut through the air, or some inexplicable sensation crawling down my spine. I’m not sure. But whatever it was, it was enough for me to feel no fear. On the contrary, there was a strange confidence guiding me, as if something was calling me to the ground.
Either way, I forced myself to push those thoughts aside and focused on what really mattered. The creatures were already dangerously close, their presence almost tangible, but to be honest, I still didn’t feel afraid.
Compared to what I faced back then, I’m immeasurably stronger now. My Alter Ego, if it wanted to, could wipe them all out with a single blow—and that certainty gave me an oddly calming feeling.
Yeah... with that single thought, I waited. I waited. I waited. But nothing happened. No smoke appeared to attack or protect me. No spark, no sign. Only then, with those massive teeth drawing closer—so close I could feel the creature’s hot, rancid breath—that I realized something strange.
Up until that moment, I hadn’t really paid attention to it, but now, with death nearly brushing against my face, a chilling thought cut through my mind like a blade: (By the way... why can’t I feel my Alter Ego?)
Yeah... the moment that thought crossed my mind, my body reacted before I could even process what was happening. Almost instinctively, I raised my hand in front of me, as if that gesture alone could shield me.
The very next instant, a brutal force clamped down on my arm. I felt something hot and slimy swallow my hand whole, and when I looked ahead, my stomach dropped: rows of teeth clenched tight around my arm, squeezing with a pressure that felt like it was trying to crush the bone.
The sight lasted no more than a moment. The next thing I knew, a monstrous force yanked my entire body forward, and before I could react, my arm was torn off with savage strength. The severed limb fell straight into the beast’s maw, where it was chewed with a wet, revolting crunch.
As always, there was no pain—only that unsettling, ghostly sensation that something that was once part of me had simply ceased to exist.
My trembling eyes drifted down to where my arm should have been. There was nothing—just raw absence. A fleeting thought crossed my mind, cold and sharp as a blade: (Why does this feel like déjà vu?) The question echoed inside my head, cold and detached from the urgency of the moment: (Either way... it should regenerate soon.)
Holding on to that thought, I waited. The seconds dragged by in an almost unbearable way, but nothing happened—my arm didn’t grow back. My regeneration had always been instant, nearly imperceptible, kicking in within fractions of a second from the moment I first awakened this power.
Honestly, since I first gained it, I couldn’t remember a single moment when it had failed or even hesitated to work. But now... now something was wrong. Not only was my flesh still gone, but my Alter Ego—that ever-present force, always ready to manifest—was completely silent, as if it had been torn out of me entirely.
At that instant, a strange, disturbing thought cut through my mind like a shard of ice. As absurd as it sounded, I couldn’t shake it off. With every passing second, the idea became more real, almost tangible.
I wanted to deny it, laugh at it, but considering everything that was happening, there was no other logical explanation: (Could it be...? My powers... are gone?)