"Right now."
Copper growled low, gripping the blade that pierced through his chest, holding it as if it were the only thing keeping him standing. In that moment, he cast aside all fear, pain, and hesitation.
Ren understood. No words needed.
He surged forward like a streak of steel light, sword crashing down upon the monster's final arm, a finishing blow meant to end it all.
But...
He was a heartbeat too late.
The mirror-faced knight said nothing. It twisted its body, driving its arm straight through Copper's chest. Its sword halted just in time to intercept Ren's attack.
The sound of breaking rang out like a requiem of death.
Ren's blade cracked, splintering like fractured glass. Then... it shattered, shards of steel scattering through the air like glowing ashes.
And at that exact moment, the knight's blade, an echo of Ren's own strength, cracked as well, fractures spreading like spiderwebs before it too dissolved in the same heartbeat.
Both blades shattered, as if fate had already been written.
The knight silently withdrew its arm from Copper's body, blood and fragments trailing behind like a snapped red thread.
But Ren was faster by one breath, he gripped the broken hilt tight and swung it like a steel hammer, smashing it into the monster's empty, reflective face.
The blow jerked the faceless head backward, its shape distorting from the impact. Ren immediately spun and kicked the creature in the chest with all the weight in his body.
Crash!
The monster's entire body collapsed onto the stone floor, echoing like a machine whose axis had snapped.
At that very moment, Copper also collapsed, as if the final thread of life had been cut. His body trembled in small spasms, eyes glassy and slowly dimming.
Ren didn't think. He rushed to his side, knelt down, and pressed the last HP potion into Copper's hand, urgent as if offering up life itself.
But Copper gently shook his head, his frail hand pushing the potion away.
No words... just a weary, peaceful look, as if he had chosen this long ago.
Copper let out a quiet laugh, though it sounded more like a wheezing breath, broken and heavy."I... just need a little more time... the charm will... activate on its own..."
Ren knelt beside him, panting, eyes locked on the gaping wound where crimson dust, like burning sand, kept pouring out endlessly.
"…You're lying, aren't you?" Ren whispered, voice cracking as if a thorn had lodged in his throat.
Copper's tired eyes paused for a split second. But Ren didn't let him speak.
"Every time you lie," he continued, "your eyes change. Just a little, hard to notice... but they change. I ignored it before... but not this time."
A moment of silence. Then Copper sighed.
"So you knew..." He smiled, a smile bitter and powerless.
"Yeah... I don't have any charm. I was supposed to get one, but... things didn't go as planned."
Ren clenched his fists, saying nothing. No rage. No blame.
Only a quiet emptiness slowly swallowing his heart.
"Hey, Ren…" Copper's voice rasped, like the final breeze escaping a cracked soul. "You really have gotten stronger… but also more distant… from yourself, and from the world."
He gasped, then closed his eyes for a moment, as if digging through the ashes of memory. "I don't know who you used to be, or what you carried… maybe I'll never know. But if right now, I still have a chance to say something… then I hope you'll listen, just this once."
He took one long, strained breath, each word seeming to cost a heartbeat.
"Everyone in this world is walking a different path. Some walk with ideals. Some crawl with pain. We're not the same. And we don't have to be."
"Some people choose to live for others. Some live for themselves. But the line between good and evil... is sometimes just one wrong step. Just one mistake, one small choice... can turn everything to ash."
He paused, his eyes, clouded with blood and fatigue, glancing up at the ceiling bathed in eerie golden light.
"Ren… we can be good people. We can chase dreams, ideals, justice, or freedom... but we've never...never...been able to hold them all in our hands without giving something up."
"You're strong… but that doesn't make you right. You're alive… but that doesn't mean you're living the right way."
His voice weakened, but his eyes glowed, bright and strange, like a final flame flaring in the face of death.
"There are still good people, Ren. So many. If you haven't seen them... don't give up. Be the first."
"Be the fire. Be the one who clears the path. Be the voice in the dark that someone out there has never heard. Don't let this world steal your soul the way it stole mine."
Ren's hands trembled slightly, but he still said nothing.
"And me...?" Copper smiled, a gentle yet piercing smile, like ashes that still retained the shape of a flower. "I chose a different path. With filthy hands, a heart full of cracks, and a shadow no one could save."
"On that path, I no longer had the right to turn back. No more chances to make things right. And nothing left to hold on to."
"So... let me rest. Don't pity me. Don't pull me back."
"I don't need forgiveness. I only want... if there's someone who can change everything... let it be you."
"You… still have a chance…" Copper whispered, the fading smile struggling through staggered breaths. "So this… is how it feels to know… you're going to die…"
His eyes clouded, gazing up into the silent, golden-lit ceiling. "Not as painful as I thought... just... strangely empty..."
One more breath... then his lips moved slightly, like a final whisper drifting with the wind. "Goodbye..."
"Get up, Copper…!" Ren's voice echoed into the void, choked as if he wanted to scream, but could only release fractured echoes. "You bastard, get up, get up, get up, get up..."
He knelt down, tried to grasp his hand, already cold. His eyes widened, heart pounding, refusing to accept the truth.
But Copper didn't respond.
He lay there, as if merely fallen asleep, eyes closed with a faint smile still lingering on his lips. And then...
A soft breeze swept through the sealed room.
And his body began to dissolve.
Tiny lights broke off from him, like petals drifting silently, blending into the glimmering air. Strands of red, gold, and pale gray pixel dust… spun in a silent dance.
Ren lowered his head. He didn't cry. There were no more tears left to cry.
Only that... the world suddenly became quieter than ever before.
But... it wasn't over yet.
A screeching sound echoed, like metal tearing from the depths of hell.
Ren whipped around, and froze.
The knight. He wasn't down yet.
His body was horrifically ruined: cracked armor, faint smoke rising, only one limp arm dangling like a rag... But he still stood.
Step by step. Heavy. Steady. Like a ghost clawing up from the abyss with one purpose: to drag the living down with him.
He didn't need words. Didn't need a reason.
Only one thing still burned in those dragging steps... hatred.
Ren clenched his teeth. No sword left. Nothing left at all.
He stood. Blood spilled from his mouth. But his eyes didn't blink.
No signal. No promise.
The two bodies lunged at each other.
A punch. An elbow. A clumsy kick. A desperate shoulder throw.
It no longer resembled a fight...
But the violent struggle of two souls not yet ready to fall into the abyss.
Ren slammed his fist into the mirrored mask, a crack appeared.
The knight tilted his head, his remaining hand swinging, grazing Ren's shoulder, leaving a long red trail like shattered glass.
Ren didn't stop. He roared from his throat, grabbed the enemy by the shoulder, yanked him close, then slammed his forehead into the cold mask.
"CLANG!!"
A crack rang out. The mask fractured further.
The knight staggered.
Ren roared like a cornered beast, and with all his remaining strength, drove his fist into the center of the golden mirror.
CRACK!!
A spiderweb of fractures spread across the surface, splitting the reflected face in two.
Ren gasped. But the rage didn't cool.
He saw it. The face in the mirror.
Not the knight. Not the enemy.
It was him.
A cold, expressionless face, slick with sweat, stained with blood, weak and so unfamiliar it made him sick.
Ren screamed, shoved the knight to the ground. Straddled his chest.
And began to... punch.
With his bare hands.
One strike.
Not for victory. Not for survival.
Only to shatter that cursed image...The self he always avoided, the shadow sealed behind the walls of reason.
Fragments of mirror pierced through the leather gloves, embedding deep in his flesh, each strike bringing pain.
But Ren didn't stop.
Didn't stop.
Didn't stop until… there was nothing left to reflect.
No familiar silhouette. No eyes always looking away. No face of a hypocrite.
Ren hated himself.
A weakling wearing a brave mask.
A kid who always hesitated, always made excuses, always tried to convince himself that "everything would be fine," while deep down… he knew it never would be.
Each punch fell on the shattered mask, not for the enemy, but for the fractured self screaming inside his chest.
For every time he turned away from someone's pain.
For every chance he let slip.
For every person he couldn't save.
For Copper.
Ren screamed hoarse, like he was trying to rip open his own ribcage.
His hands could no longer feel. Muscles numb. Fingernails torn. Bones cracking. But he kept going, with his head.
Thud.
One strike.
Thud.
Another.
THUD.
The sound of his skull slamming into steel rang like a death knell in a ruined cathedral.
Each blow, each strike, like he wanted to crush that weak "Ren" into powder, dissolve it in blood, erase every trace from this world.
The room had no more sound. Only ragged breathing, cracking bones, and the iron scent of blood colder than winter night.
Until finally... he collapsed too,
His head resting against the shattered mask,
No more strength left to scream. No more reason to scream.
Only silence. And a promise yet to be spoken.