The fire consumed everything.

  Jason surged forward, his body moving on instinct, flames raging around him. The heat, the fury—it all converged into a single strike. Bellion’s expression shifted, his usual smugness replaced by something else. Fear? Surprise? Jason didn’t care. He was going to end this.

  But just as his fist came down—

  The world shattered.

  A violent CRACK, like reality itself had splintered.

  Suddenly, the fire was gone. The coliseum vanished. The roaring crowd, the crushing heat, the scent of blood in the air—all of it blinked out of existence.

  And in its place—

  Chaos.

  Jason was no longer in the arena. No longer facing Bellion. Instead, he was on top of someone else.

  The weight beneath him shifted, struggling, but not with the strength of a battle-hardened enemy. No, this was different—panicked, erratic. His vision blurred, but when it cleared, he found himself staring down at Nelson.

  The guy’s usual smug arrogance was nowhere to be seen. His eyes were wide, frantic, darting around like a trapped animal. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his face pale with sheer, unfiltered panic.

  Jason’s fists were still clenched. Too tight. Too ready to strike.

  Nelson flinched, his voice cracking as he thrashed beneath Jason’s weight. “W-what the hell! Get off me!”

  Jason didn’t move. His breath was too fast, too sharp, his muscles still locked in that same lethal instinct.

  Nelson’s panic exploded. “SOMEONE GET HIM OFF ME!” His voice was shrill, his hands clawing at Jason’s arms. “HE’S LOST HIS DAMN MIND! GET THIS PSYCHO OFF ME!”

  The classroom was wrecked. Desks lay overturned, some cracked against the floor. Chairs were scattered in jagged angles. Papers fluttered through the air like fallen leaves in a storm. The walls felt too close, the fluorescent lights too harsh, stabbing into Jason’s skull like knives.

  A cluster of students had huddled together in the corner, whispering in frantic, hushed tones. Professor Jefferson stood rigid near his desk, his face frozen in a mixture of disbelief and alarm.

  Jason’s breath hitched. His hands were locked into fists, one still hovering over Nelson’s face—mere inches away from striking.

  What... what was he doing?

  “Jason, stop!”

  The voice came from behind.

  Strong arms wrapped around his torso, yanking him backward. Jason resisted instinctively, a guttural growl ripping from his throat. His mind was still half-trapped in the illusion, still fighting Bellion, still burning with fury.

  The grip tightened. “Wake up, man! It’s not real!”

  That voice—Tyler.

  Jason’s chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow breaths. His muscles trembled, his entire body still poised to strike, still wired for battle. But Tyler didn’t let go. He held firm, grounding him, anchoring him to something real.

  Jason blinked.

  The flickering embers in his mind faded. His heartbeat slowed—only slightly, but enough. The scene before him sharpened. Nelson, still cowering beneath him, his breath ragged, his arms shaking as he scrambled backward, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

  Nelson’s voice broke through the ringing in Jason’s ears. “Jesus Christ, man!” He gasped, his back hitting an overturned desk. His whole body was trembling. “What the hell is wrong with you!?” His voice cracked, too unsteady to even sound angry.

  Jason didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

  His eyes drifted around the room—the students, eyes wide with fear. The destruction surrounding him.

  His own hands.

  They were trembling.

  No fire. No chains. No arena.

  Just a wrecked classroom and the realization that something was horribly, horribly wrong.

  Jason shoved his notebook into his bag with shaking hands, his breath coming fast and uneven. The classroom around him felt suffocating—too small, too loud, despite the dead silence hanging in the air. Chairs were overturned, papers scattered across the floor like fallen leaves after a storm. Every student in the room was pressed against the farthest wall, their faces a mixture of shock and fear. Even Professor Jefferson, usually calm and composed, stood stiffly by his desk, his expression unreadable.

  “Jason! Wait!”

  The professor’s voice cut through the stillness just as Jason turned toward the door. His footsteps faltered for the briefest moment, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag.

  Then—

  “Let that psycho go!”

  Nelson’s voice. Sharp. Spiteful. The words dug into Jason’s skin like claws.

  A bitter taste filled his mouth. His stomach twisted, his entire body tensing as if something inside him was ready to ignite again. He gritted his teeth and forced himself forward, pushing through the door without looking back.

  The hallway stretched out before him, impossibly long, as if it were closing in on him. The sterile white walls pressed in from both sides, their unyielding emptiness amplifying the buzzing hum of the fluorescent lights above. Each flicker stabbed into his skull, magnifying the pounding ache in his head. His footsteps echoed in the silence—uneven, unsteady—as he stumbled toward the bathroom, dragging his feet like they were weighed down by the chaos still spinning in his mind.

  He shoved the bathroom door open, his breath ragged and erratic. The dim fluorescent lights flickered faintly overhead, casting a cold, sickly glow over the row of sinks and mirrors. Water. He needed cold water. Maybe it could wash the burn in his mind away.

  He dropped his bag onto the counter, gripping the edges of the sink as he leaned over it. His fingers were trembling. His reflection stared back at him—his usual face, but… something felt off.

  With a sharp inhale, he turned on the faucet and splashed icy water onto his face. The shock sent a shiver down his spine. He stayed there, gripping the porcelain, trying to steady himself.

  Then, as he lifted his head again—

  His breath caught.

  The face in the mirror wasn’t his. Not exactly.

  It was still him, but older. Sharper. His jawline was more defined, his features hardened by experience. The boyish edges of his face had faded, replaced by something resolute. His hair—still that wild, untamed red—was longer, a living blaze that framed his face like an ember-fed inferno. His eyes, those same icy blue depths, burned with something… heavier. They looked through him, not just at him.

  Jason’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. He lifted a shaking hand, fingertips grazing the skin beneath his eyes, as if confirming that this was real.

  The second he touched his reflection—

  The image shattered.

  Not like breaking glass, but like a ripple across a still lake. The older version of him dissolved, fading back into the normal reflection he’d always known. He was just Jason again—disheveled, wide-eyed, and breathing too hard.

  He barely had time to process it before the door slammed open.

  “Jason!”

  Tyler’s voice echoed in the tiled room. Jason turned sharply, still gripping the sink. Tyler stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling like he had just sprinted there. His usual easygoing expression was gone—his face was tight with concern. With something else, too.

  “For god’s sake, man—what the hell happened in there? Are you okay?” Tyler stepped forward, his hands moving in frantic gestures as he spoke. “Do you even realize how bad that looked? You nearly—no, you actually lost it!” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “This is not good. Not good at all…”

  Jason barely registered his words. His mind was still spinning, still trapped between the lingering image in the mirror and the chaos in the classroom. His pulse roared in his ears.

  “I… I don’t know,” he muttered. His own voice sounded distant, almost foreign. He clenched his jaw, frustration rising in his throat like bile. “I don’t know, okay? Since that day—” He stopped, shaking his head as if that could somehow make it all go away. “The visions. The drawings I don’t remember making. The dreams. That woman.” His breathing turned ragged. “Everything is wrong.”

  Tyler’s pacing stopped. His brow furrowed.

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  “What do you mean—‘since that day’?”

  Jason hesitated. His grip on the sink tightened.

  “I…” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his wild red hair. “I never told you about it.”

  Tyler’s eyes darkened with something unreadable. “Told me what?”

  Jason didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed his bag and shoved past him, heading for his locker.

  Tyler followed.

  As Jason headed toward his locker, Tyler stepped in front of him, stopping him for a moment.

  "So, what now?" Tyler asked, searching Jason’s face.

  Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m going home."

  Tyler hesitated for a second before nodding. "Okay, you know what? I need to head back to class, but I’ll come find you after school, alright?"

  Jason gave a small nod. His face, drawn and tired, spoke of the weight pressing down on him.

  "Thanks for holding me up back there…" he muttered. "God knows how that could’ve ended. It just— it felt so real."

  Tyler smiled faintly. "It’s okay. I guess that’s part of my job as your best friend, right?"

  Jason started to turn away, then hesitated. Something in his chest tightened. He looked back at Tyler.

  "Hey, T… You believe me, right?" His voice was quiet, almost pleading.

  Tyler’s expression flickered—just for a second, like he was carefully choosing his words. Then, he met Jason’s gaze.

  "Of course, man. I do." He reached out, clasping Jason’s hand in a firm, friendly shake. "Just… we need to talk it through, okay? Later."

  As Jason turned to leave, Tyler called after him. "Hey—careful out there. The storm’s still going strong."

  Jason paused for a moment but didn’t look back. He just nodded and kept walking, his mind elsewhere.

  Jason stopped in front of his locker, staring at the stubborn lock. His fingers tightened around it as he twisted the combination—once, twice—nothing. His frustration grew with every failed attempt.

  "Damn it!" His voice came out harsher than he intended. He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment before resting his forehead lightly against the cool metal.

  "What do I do now…?" he murmured to himself. His mind raced. "Can I even come back after this?"

  For a moment, everything blurred—until a single image surfaced in his thoughts. A face. A name.

  Esmé.

  His breath steadied. His fingers unclenched. A faint, almost involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "So that’s your name…" he whispered.

  The scene faded.

  Somewhere in the background, the crackling of the school PA system cut through the hallway.

  "Jason from class 3A, please immediately come to the principal’s office."

  The announcement echoed, then faded into silence.

  It was a hot summer day, and Jason gazed out of the car window, watching the landscape roll by. The road stretched ahead, winding through fields and forests. This trip was a tradition—every summer, his father took them to his special place in the wild, far from the city’s noise.

  "Are we there yet?" Liam, his ten-year-old brother, broke the silence. No surprise. They’d been on the road for hours, and patience wasn’t Liam’s strong suit.

  "Almost… just a little longer," their father, George, reassured him. Then, glancing in the rearview mirror, he asked, "You doing okay back there, Jason?"

  "Yeah, Dad." Jason was in a good mood today. He couldn't wait to explore the mountains again—maybe sketch some of the wildlife or capture the landscape in his notebook.

  "Mom! Jason took my biscuits! He already ate his!" Liam whined.

  "Come on, Liam, share with your brother," their mother, Mary, said with a patient smile. "Are you hungry, honey?"

  "I am!" Liam answered before Jason could say anything. Jason just smirked and finished the last biscuit.

  Liam groaned in frustration and turned back to his phone.

  "And… here we are!" George announced as he pulled up beside the log cabin.

  "Finally! Yay, the river!" Liam cheered, throwing open the car door.

  "Not so fast! First, we unpack. After that, you can go," George said firmly. Then, turning to Jason, he asked, "Give me a hand?"

  Jason stepped out of the car, stretching his legs. It was always funny seeing his father squeeze out of the driver’s seat—at nearly two meters tall and built like a bear, even the biggest cars seemed small for him. His mother, in contrast, was much smaller, delicate but with a warm strength of her own.

  "You okay there, honey?" Mary teased, laughing as George finally straightened up.

  They got to work unpacking. The cabin was large and well-maintained, so there wasn’t much to worry about—just settling in.

  "Okay, kids! You can go to the river, but be careful! And be back in an hour for lunch!" Mary called out once everything was in place.

  "Jason! Jason! Let’s go!" Liam was already tugging at his arm, his earlier grudge completely forgotten.

  "Alright, alright, I’m coming…" Jason sighed, letting himself be dragged along.

  As they stepped outside, they caught sight of George already chopping wood, the sound of the axe splitting through logs echoing in the summer air.

  As they walked to the river, Jason glanced at the mountains in the distance. They were breathtaking. He often wondered how incredible the view must be from the top. Maybe today, he’d finally have the chance to go for a walk and see it for himself.

  “Finally, haha!” Liam laughed as he stripped off his shirt and stepped cautiously into the river. The water was cool against the summer heat, its gentle flow making it safe despite its depth.

  “Jason! Come in!” Liam splashed water at him, grinning. Jason smirked and shook his head.

  “Just you wait!” he called, ready to take his revenge.

  They spent time playing, splashing water at each other, and letting the river cool their skin. But as their mother’s voice called them back for lunch, Liam ran ahead while Jason lingered behind.

  Then, suddenly—

  His whole body shivered.

  “Jason...”

  It was a voice. Deep, strong, and urgent, yet distant, as if spoken directly into his soul. The sound echoed through his mind, pulling at something deep inside him. His heart pounded. There was something about that voice—something powerful, something he didn’t understand.

  “Jason... please... wake up...”

  Pain. A sharp, splitting ache throbbed in his head. The voice, that call—it wasn’t just sound. It was a force, reaching for him, demanding something from him. His breath hitched as his vision blurred, and his eyes locked onto the distant mountain.

  “JASON!”

  The final call slammed into him, like a shockwave through his chest. He gasped, stumbling, his body tense with something unexplainable. And then—

  “Jason, boy, are you okay?”

  Jason blinked. He was back. His father stood before him, concern clear on his face.

  “Mom, what’s with Jason?” Liam asked, curious but unconcerned.

  Jason’s breath was unsteady, his skin cold despite the heat. He looked into his father’s eyes, grounding himself. “Dad...” He swallowed. “Y-yeah... I’m okay. I just—” He shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”

  George studied him for a moment before giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Alright then. Let’s go eat.”

  Jason followed as his father led him back. The cabin porch was set for lunch, and Liam was already seated, excitedly lifting the lid off one of the steaming pots. The rich scent of their mother’s cooking filled the air.

  “Whoa, Mary, this looks amazing!” George grinned. “Right, Jason?”

  “Y-yeah... it smells great,” Jason murmured, sitting down.

  As he did, his mother reached across the table and placed a warm hand over his. “Are you okay, honey?” she asked gently, her thumb caressing his skin. It was a simple touch, but one filled with warmth—motherly love. A comfort that melted into him, chasing away the lingering chill from before.

  “Y-yeah, Mom, I...” Jason hesitated, almost saying something. Almost.

  But before he could, she gave his hand another soft squeeze. “Let’s just enjoy our family lunch, okay?” She smiled warmly. “I love you, Jason.”

  Something about the way she said it made the strange moment from before feel distant, almost forgotten.

  “And you love me too, right, Mom?” Liam chimed in, looking at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

  “Hahaha, of course she does! And I love you too, boys,” George added. “Aaaand now—let’s eat!”

  With that, the family meal began, laughter and warmth filling the air. For now, Jason allowed himself to settle into the moment, pushing aside whatever had just happened.

  At least, for now.

  Jason followed the winding forest path leading toward the mountains, his steps light as he took in the surrounding wilderness. His father and Liam had set off to the river for an afternoon of fishing, while his mother remained at the cabin, finally able to indulge in the quiet comfort of her books. She had always loved reading, losing herself in the pages of stories that carried her to distant worlds. It was rare for her to have uninterrupted time, and Jason was glad she could enjoy it.

  By now, the strange experience from earlier had faded into the background, leaving behind only a faint, lingering unease. His mind, however, was too occupied with the beauty of the landscape to dwell on something that seemed more like a passing illusion than anything real. Every few minutes, he paused to observe something that caught his eye—an ancient tree whose twisted roots coiled around the earth like the limbs of a sleeping giant, or a delicate wildflower standing defiantly among the moss-covered rocks. Whenever inspiration struck, he knelt down to sketch, capturing the details with precise strokes of his pencil.

  The deeper he ventured into the forest, the fresher and crisper the air became. Instead of exhausting him, the gradual ascent filled him with an unusual energy, as if each step forward breathed new life into his body. He felt lighter, more awake, almost as if the land itself was lending him strength.

  Taking a deep breath, he let the cool mountain breeze fill his lungs before exhaling with a sense of relief. "It feels so good to be here," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Lifting his water bottle to his lips, he drank deeply, savoring the refreshing coolness before continuing on his way.

  Soon, he reached the base of the mountain trail, the well-worn path stretching upward before him. With a small, satisfied nod, he prepared to move forward.

  "Finally… that took me—"

  The words caught in his throat as an unfamiliar sensation rippled through his body, sending a cold shiver down his spine.

  There was an echo—but not the kind caused by the mountains.

  It was his voice, yet at the same time, it wasn’t.

  "—longer than expected."

  Jason’s breath hitched, his entire body freezing in place. A creeping unease spread through him, but before he could fully process what he had just heard, his eyes landed on something that made his blood run cold.

  Just a few steps ahead, another figure walked the same path.

  It wasn’t just anyone. It was him.

  His own body—moving forward, mirroring his own steps, following the very path he was about to take. The realization sent a jolt of panic through his veins, but before he could react, an even more terrifying sight greeted him as he turned around.

  Stretching down the path behind him, countless versions of himself were making their way toward the mountain, each one walking in perfect unison. Their movements were identical to his own, their faces obscured just enough to blur the line between reality and nightmare. One by one, they all spoke the same words—his words—but fragmented, breaking apart into an overlapping chorus that grew more distorted with every repetition.

  "Finally… that took me longer than expected."

  "Finally… that took me longer—"

  "Finally… that took—"

  The voices piled on top of each other, a deafening cascade of echoes that warped and twisted until they no longer resembled words, but a maddening, rhythmic chant that drilled into his skull.

  His head throbbed with an unbearable pressure, his vision blurring at the edges as the world around him began to warp and collapse inward. Just as he thought he couldn’t take it any longer, another voice—different from the rest—pierced through the chaos.

  "Jason…"

  The sound sent an almost physical jolt through his chest. Unlike the endless echoes surrounding him, this voice carried weight. It wasn’t part of the illusion—it was something else entirely. Deep, urgent, filled with desperation, it reached for him as if trying to pull him back from the abyss.

  "Jason… please… wake up."

  His heart slammed against his ribs, his entire body shuddering as an unfamiliar yet strangely familiar force wrapped around his very being. His mind screamed at him to move, to run, to break free from whatever was happening, but his body refused to obey.

  The voice called again, louder this time, shaking him to his core.

  "Jason!"

  His pulse quickened, a crushing weight pressing down on his chest as the words repeated, growing more forceful with each passing second.

  "JASON!"

  The overwhelming cacophony of echoes reached its peak, the fractured voices colliding in a chaotic whirlwind until Jason could no longer tell what was real and what wasn’t. The pressure in his head became unbearable, his surroundings spinning into an uncontrollable blur. His own screams mixed with the voices—

  And then, everything shattered.

  The next thing he knew, he was falling—

  But not down the mountain.

  The sensation of hard wooden planks against his back snapped him out of the chaos, his body sprawled on the porch of the cabin. The world around him had shifted in an instant, the suffocating nightmare replaced by the open sky above, the soft rustling of trees, and the familiar warmth of the afternoon sun.

  "Jason! Are you okay?"

  Liam’s voice rang with panic, his small hands clutching Jason’s arm as he peered down at him with wide, worried eyes.

  "Dad! Mom! Jason is not feeling well!"

  Jason gasped for breath, his entire body trembling as if he had just been yanked out of something far beyond his understanding. His pulse pounded in his ears, and despite being back in a place he recognized, a deep, unsettling fear remained lodged within his chest.

  Everything around him seemed real—the cabin, the trees, his family rushing toward him—but after what he had just experienced, he could no longer be certain.

  Had he truly woken up?

  Or was this just another illusion?