The sweltering heat of the desert surprised him. The atmosphere here felt significantly different from the underground ruins. He hadn't really considered the change before—mostly because of the constant danger.
His neck hurt, as if it had been hit by a hammer.
'Somehow, I feel more dead than when I actually died.'
He laughed, causing even more pain in his neck.
'I really should rest,' he thought—but simply couldn't. He was too scared that the invisible attacker would somehow catch up, that it would appear again, this time to behead him for real.
Astel stood up, his battered body protesting.
'I have to go—go toward the mountains.'
He looked around. When he saw the snowy peaks, he froze. They seemed close. Too close.
"No way... I couldn't have traveled that far… right?" he said out loud, to no one in particular. His throat was sore from not drinking water for… however long it had been.
He realized he'd completely lost track of time.
"Great, just awesome… Not that it matters. I still need to survive. Who cares if it's been two months or two years," he grumbled to himself, preparing to start walking toward the not-so-distant peaks.
"Foolish!"
He heard it—it sounded like his voice, but it wasn't him. Thinking he was hallucinating again, he simply started walking, paying the voice no attention.
He walked for a long time, under the sunless sky, which seemed to have started warping.
'Warping, huh...'
He thought about his newly acquired notion and began inspecting it. Probing it with his energy, he got the most basic feel for the... energy?
'I thought it would be some sort of object, maybe a weapon or armor. But it's just pure energy?'
Confused, he inspected further.
"Wait, what?" he blurted out loud. If he'd had water in his mouth, he would've spit it out.
'This… it's of the 3rd category?'
He couldn't have been more astonished.
'But… but the monster was definitely of the 4th category, I'm sure of it.'
"Are you?"
He heard his own voice resound in his mind again.
'I think I am.'
"Foolish!"
He heard it again—only then realizing how strange it really was. These weren't his thoughts... but... they sounded like his thoughts.
No—they were his thoughts, but also weren't.
'How is that possible?'
This time, there was no response. Astel waited a moment longer, but there really was nothing.
'Am I actually hallucinating?'
His head hurt. He didn't want to think about it anymore. His train of thought quickly returned to the notion. It was like a dark ball of energy nestled in the deepest parts of his mind. He noticed its presence was a lot weaker than when he first got it—before he used it.
'So that's how it is.'
The notion was of the ability kind, and it had a limited number of uses. As for how many, Astel speculated it was five. He reluctantly tried activating it again, but nothing happened. The energy moved—or at least wanted to—but unlike before, darkness didn't welcome him into its cold embrace.
'That's odd,' he thought as he kept walking. 'Maybe I'll figure it out later.'
The mountains were closer than ever, yet it felt like no matter how long he walked, he wasn't getting any nearer. They felt... unapproachable. But he kept walking.
The heat of the desert dried out his already water-starved body. His lips cracked, his throat sore. A dry cough escaped his lips, causing him more pain than he'd like to admit.
His condition was worsening. The sky appeared to be twisted—warped. His sight was blurring. The distant horizon felt like it was moving.
He stumbled, took a half-step—then another. He slowly dragged his drained body across the desert. His wounded arm didn't feel like it would heal anytime soon. He was already numb to the pain.
At this point, he'd been walking for hours—possibly days. He didn't know. He had been on the verge of collapse for a long time now. Every second in the desert felt like torture. It wasn't a pleasant feeling—but he couldn't stop. He had to walk.
Soon, he began forgetting again, his thoughts slowly gathering into one:
'What am I even doing? Where am I going?'
He felt more lost than ever. The absence of water made its presence known. He often collapsed onto the ground, only to get back up and continue walking.
Sometimes, he would come across what seemed like ruins. It was hard to spot them—harder still to walk toward them. But whenever he reached one, he simply rested.
He never rested for long. His unconscious always urged him to keep moving—so he did.
Eventually, he heard the familiar voice again. It stood out among the uncountable voices assaulting his mind every waking second.
"You really are pathetic, you know?"
Astel didn't have the strength to react. He could barely form a single thought, much less acknowledge the voice's existence—let alone respond.
"Are you really just going to walk? Don't you think it's pointless?"
The taunting words were met with silence. The boy simply kept walking—as if it was the only natural thing to do.
"Hey! Don't ignore me, you fool!"
The voice—his voice—tried to get his attention. But again, it was met with silence.
"You should have died a long time ago. You were supposed to never come here. You were never supposed to survive meeting the Scavenger, and most of all, you were never supposed to beat that reptilian stalker."
The voice sounded infuriated.
"You are weak. Just give up and die. Your life serves no purpose."
Finally, those words struck a nerve within Astel.
'Don…t…say….th….at.'
"Huh? What was that, you dumb fool? Did you say something?"
Astel mustered all his strength to form a coherent thought.
'I said… Don't… say that.'
The voice laughed mockingly.
"Don't say what? That you're useless? That you serve no purpose?"
Its laugh turned into a growl of irritation. The voice yelled:
"I mean, look at yourself! You let your mom die in front of you while you were out there playing hero! You couldn't save those people from that oversized vulture! Instead, you cowered in fear and ran away like a little bitch!"
It paused for a moment, then continued.
"You've been useless even before that. You say you miss Lyra, but what did you do when she was taken away by the recruiters?"
Then, even louder—anger boiling over:
"That's right. You did nothing! You hid and ran away. You didn't even try to stop them. You weren't strong enough to be recruited by them either. Just admit it—you're worthless!"
The voice seemed to exhale, though no breath could be heard.
'I did try,' Astel responded, his tone subdued. 'I tried to catch up to her. I did everything I could. But it just wasn't possible.'
His internal voice turned into a yelling, frustrated one.
'I trained every day to unlock my Mind Palace—to conquer the first Fragment—but it just didn't work!'
The voice responded coldly.
"What didn't work? It's your mind. If anything didn't work, it was your own stupid head!"
Astel fell to his knees. He wanted to cry, but his body was so dry that no tears came out.
"To top it all off, the Fragment you ended up conquering was that of Control. But look at yourself. You're a failure through and through. You call yourself a Fragmenter when you can't even wield your only Fragment. What a fool you are."
Astel was starting to get angry at the voice in his head. He felt crazy—arguing with his own mind, insulting himself so much it felt like physical pain.
He tried forcing his mind to quiet down—but nothing happened. He couldn't control this. It was all too much. The voices were too much.
Still, he slowly stood up and continued walking, forsaking all his pain and suffering to reach his goal.
"And where do you think you're going? Are you running away again? As you always do?"
Silence.
"Say something, goddammit!"
The voice yelled, but was met with nothing. Eventually, it fell quiet, leaving behind a single word:
"Foolish."
Astel ignored it and kept walking. His mind was already starting to shut down. His body was probably in an even worse state.
He didn't know anymore.
It was all too much.
If only he could rest… just for a minute.
He collapsed to the ground—his consciousness failing him, perhaps for the last time.