The Garden of Dead Wonders

"¡¡¡AAAAAAHHH!!"

The fall was not a simple downward movement; it was a dissolution of all known physical laws.

(...♫ ♪ ♪...♩...♬...♪...)

As Shija sank into the void, the space shifted from black to a kaleidoscope of fractured realities that spun at a nauseating speed.

(...♩♫♬ ♩♫ ♪♫ ??? ♬♫♪)

Around him, the tunnel of descent began to vomit objects that defied reason: pocket watches that melted like warm flesh, dripping seconds of a thick, dark liquid; laboratory stretchers that twisted until they transformed into metallic limbs trying to reach him; and glass vials that exploded into galaxies of pure static.

(...♪...♩...♪♬...)

The air became an amalgam of neon colors so aggressive they seemed to burn his intangible essence, while faceless shadows whispered secrets to him in a language he did not understand, but which made his soul vibrate with terror.

(...♪...♫...♭...???...)

It was a journey through a shattered psyche, a dizzying descent where gravity did not pull on his body, but on his traumas, as the melody resonating around him shifted into a long lament that seemed to stretch into the void. There is no longer curiosity, only an oppressive gravity dragging the melody toward the lowest tones, as if the music itself were losing the strength to keep playing.

(...♩...♭...♩...♭...)

The rhythm became erratic, mimicking the heartbeats of an exhausted heart. Each note fell with the weight of an inevitable loss; in a dense, almost physical melancholy that spoke of a surrender without resistance. It transmitted abandonment, the loneliness of one surrounded by shadows they cannot see, yet which steal their will.

(...???...♭...♫...♬...)

Then, an unusual note reappeared, leaving behind the surprise of amusement. Instead, it evoked distortion, like a muffled scream in the middle of nowhere.

"My consciousness... is fading...!"

The sound was absolute tragedy: the realization that the "comedy" was only a mask, as the melody crumbled into disconnected fragments, conveying a desolation so profound that the momentary silence felt like an abyss.

(...♭.........???)

Finally, the music stopped in a gelid whisper, leaving only the trace of a bitter truth that no one would hear...

(¡VRA-KRAKK!)

Immediately after, the void came to a halt with a dry impact that shook the very foundations of Shija’s consciousness.

"Ugh...! I didn't feel the impact...?"

Shija didn't crash against the ground; instead, he was spat out into a new reality.

"¡¡!!"

Upon pulling himself up, he saw that the scenery welcoming him was an absolute perversion of nature. The sky was no longer white or black, but a purulent color—a rusty red streaked by clouds that looked like shreds of fresh skin.

Around him, the vegetation was a mechanical and organic nightmare: flowers with razor-sharp petals dripping black oil, and giant mushrooms whose stalks were formed by columns of human vertebrae fused together.

"...."

In the distance, islands of earth floated over an infinite abyss, supporting ruined Victorian mansions that rose askew, with windows that looked like eyes watching in the gloom. Bridges made of burnt playing cards and rusted chains connected the fragments of this broken world, where the scent of stale tea mingled with the metallic, piercing stench of blood flowing through obsidian rivulets.

"But... what is... this...?"

Disoriented, Shija stood at the epicenter of a delirium—a land of dead wonders where every corner breathed the madness of whoever had sired it.

"It is no time to rest."

At that moment, finally regaining his senses, Shija pulled himself up with difficulty, staggering over a ground that felt like a mixture of ash and dried flesh, due to the dense air of the place, heavy with the metallic scent of stagnant blood flowing from the obsidian rivulets.

"¿?"

However, at that point, Shija noticed something, standing motionless with his eyes fixed on the Victorian mansions floating in the distance.

(Flut...)

The oppressive silence of the place, interrupted only by the hiss of the black oil dripping from the mechanical flowers at his feet, was broken by a buzzing sound.

(Flut... flut...)

Then, the sound began to intensify more and more in a delicate and somewhat rhythmic cadence, like the brushing of silk against silk that seemed to be born from the purulent sky itself.

(FLUT-FLUT-FLUT-FLUT!)

That sound grew exponentially until it became a massive murmur that flooded the horizon.

"¡¿?!"

When Shija looked up, he was shocked by what he saw...

(FLUT-FLUT-FLUT-FLUT-FLUT-FLUT!!)

In the sky, a colossal flock of emerald butterflies emerged like a river of vibrant light from behind the clouds of skin, staining the red sky with an electric green that momentarily blinded him.

There were millions of them. A chaotic dance that eclipsed the darkness of the abyss and reflected its glow upon the ruined structures.

"... Ahaha."

The beauty of the scene was the final blow to Shija's exhausted mind, following the constant experience of stress, torture, and the fall he had been exposed to over the last few months.

(THUD-KRAK!)

Without the strength to hold himself up, Shija let himself fall heavily; his knees hit the ground before he ended up sitting on the mechanical earth, while the impact kicked up a small cloud of gray ash.

"Haahhh..."

There, surrounded by bone-mushrooms but beneath a sky that now seemed to burn in emerald, he closed his eyes and simply breathed.

"Haaa... Haaa... Fuuuu..."

There, Shija simply took in the air, filling his lungs with the cold ozone of the place.

(Ba-dump... Ba-dump... Ba-dump...)

The rhythmic fluttering of the swarm acted as a balm, allowing his pulse, previously frenetic, to begin to slow down.

"...."

For the first time in his entire journey over the last few months, Shija was able to catch his breath, letting the sound of the emerald silk erase the echo of death.

"At my own pace... Heeh..."

Sitting upon the mechanical ash, Shija forced himself to concentrate. The emerald roar in the sky continued to vibrate, but he was no longer being swept away by the chaos.

(Ba-dump... Ba-dump... Ba-dump...)

His pulse stabilized, marking a steady rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the massive fluttering above his head.

"My body..."

Then Shija looked down at his own hands, and a shiver ran through what remained of his consciousness.

"...."

What he saw plunged him into a new kind of wonder. His body was devoid of flesh; it was a silhouette of pale, translucent light—a manifestation of energy reminiscent of the color of a sky before dawn.

"So this is what’s left of me..."

However, beneath that spectral surface, fine filaments of a toxic green intertwined, pulsating to the rhythm of the swarm—like veins of light claiming new territory.

(Sssss-huuuu...)

As he inhaled, he didn't feel the passage of air, but rather an internal vibration coursing through his chest, exactly where his heart should be.

"I wonder if..."

In that situation, Shija extended his right arm, overflowing with an inexplicable confidence.

"Come here."

He didn't need to search the environment for his weapon; the sword was already imbued within his own will.

(SHING-VREEE!)

And with an instinctive impulse, he closed his fist, reclaiming that extension of himself.

"...."

Without preamble, the hilt of his sword appeared in his palm, responding to its master's call.

"Weapons are like souls... Now I understand what she meant... Master..."

The blade was not of solid steel, but a condensation of his essence that hummed with a frequency so high it made the bone-mushrooms around him vibrate.

"I’m glad to see you..."

Shija held it firmly, noticing that the weight was exactly what his mind remembered.

(Vum... vum... vum...)

He opened his hand completely, allowing the concentration of his will to relax.

(FSSS-SHHH!)

The sword instantly fragmented into splinters of light that returned to his body, absorbed by his spectral skin as if returning to their natural origin.

"...."

Silence reigned once more, broken only by the distant, rhythmic fluttering of the butterflies.

(Zzzzt...)

Shija traced a shadow of a smile and closed his fist again, this time with lightning speed.

(KRA-SHING!)

In response, the weapon materialized with a sonorous impact that shook the ash around him. The blade now glowed with a renewed intensity, showing an emerald line that ran along the edge of the pale light.

"As long as I have my sword..."

Shija stood up; in this dreamlike plane, he and his sword were a single entity.

"I can fight!"

He was no longer a helpless prey in the abyss, but a warrior walking with his very soul unsheathed.

(Tap... tap... tap...)

But at that moment, while Shija was still savoring the sense of security in his astral hand...

"Identify yourself!"

The silence was broken. Not by the fluttering, but by something much more earthly and, therefore, much stranger in that place.

(SHING!)

It was footsteps. A rhythmic, firm, and deliberate walk that echoed over the mechanical ash floor; Shija, without lowering his guard, instinctively dropped into a stance, flexing his knees and pointing the tip of his blade of light toward the gloom stretching beyond the bone-mushrooms.

"Who are you...?"

His gaze, now charged with a gelid determination, locked onto a figure emerging from the shadows.

"... I am."

It was someone shrouded in a heavy robe and a hood that concealed any trace of their face, moving with a parsimony that denoted absolute confidence in that hostile terrain.

"Someone who has been waiting for you."

In that instant, the atmosphere shifted once more.

(Sssss-whish...)

A sudden wind began to blow between Shija and the stranger, heavy with the sweet and bitter scent of melted chocolate.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Shija Retsu."

The figure stopped a few meters away, remaining motionless beneath the emerald sky.

"I have been waiting for you."

Then, a voice emerged from the depths of the hood—serene and devoid of surprise—pronouncing his name again with a tone of familiarity that made Shija’s spectral essence crawl...