Path of the Extra - Chapter 345: Ding Dong, It’s Existential Dread
Chapter 345: Ding Dong, It’s Existential Dread
There was a knock at the door.
Then another. Then another.
Someone kept knocking.
The sounds didn’t land right in Azriel’s ears—muffled, distant, as if wrapped in wool. Through the glass of the garden door he could see night laid over the city, and, strangely, the stars still pierced the city’s light like needles through cloth.
He sat on the sofa and listened to the steady banging. It didn’t stop.
“Are you not going to open it?”
“…”
“Maybe look through the peephole, at least.”
“…”
A sigh slipped from Leo’s lips as he sat beside him, eyes closed.
“Why am I here again?”
Azriel asked without looking at him. A small smile touched Leo’s mouth.
“Because you needed this.”
“Why would I need this?”
“Shouldn’t you know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you’ve reached a dangerous stage with your mental health, so this is what your mind decided to use as a coping mechanism.”
“A coping mechanism?”
What was there to cope with, exactly?
“What isn’t there to cope with?”
Azriel fell quiet. True. There were… issues. Maybe more than a few.
The knocking went on. He wanted to clap his hands over his ears until the world went blank, but he didn’t move. He sat perfectly still.
“At some point, you’ll have to open the door.”
“Why? What good would it do? There’s no reason to open it.”
“You’re a coward.”
“Because I’m not bothered by some persistent knocking?”
“Because you’re afraid of the pain waiting on the other side.”
“I’m not.”
“Now you’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re lying again.”
Azriel pressed his lips together.
“No matter what face you wear, you’re still a coward running from pain.”
Azriel let out a dry, mocking laugh.
“You shouldn’t say that when I just mutilated my own body.”
“Physical pain is easier.”
“…”
Azriel looked at the door again.
“I’m not a coward.”
“Yes, you are.”
“…How would you know?”
“Because I’m scared.”
“…”
“I’m in pain.”
“…”
“I don’t want to open that door.”
“…”
“Whether I am you or you are me, the thought of actually talking to our parents—in either world—terrifies me.”
A conversation where they bared what they truly felt.
Leo opened his eyes and looked at Azriel, a wistful smile barely there.
“And in the end… I am you.”
The fists on Azriel’s lap clenched tight.
“…That’s not why I’m a coward.”
“Then you know why?”
“…”
“If you don’t want to talk about this, we can talk about something else.”
“About what?”
Leo hummed as if thinking.
How many times would this happen now—every time he slept? Azriel remembered dozing off after a maid woke him with a simple soup. He’d eaten, then fallen under again.
’Is this some kind of sleep therapy my mind will keep forcing on me?’
“For example,” Leo said, “how about we talk about how you feel about losing to Corven.”
“How I feel? There’s nothing to feel. I lost. I wasn’t strong enough.”
He should have simply known his limits.
“That’s not true.” Leo shook his head and closed his eyes again.
“You’re frustrated you didn’t win. Angry, frustrated, and sad. Maybe a little unhinged.”
“…”
“Anyone would be. Who doesn’t get frustrated by a loss? But winning means something different to you than it does to most people… doesn’t it?”
Azriel looked at him with a dark expression. Leo noticed but didn’t care.
“Humans are contradictory creatures, aren’t they?” Leo let out a small, dry laugh.
“We think one thing and do another. Some people can fight off the contradiction. Some can’t. You don’t have to be human to be contradictory, either.”
“What are you talking about?”
“…The guilt must be eating you alive, isn’t it?”
“…!”
“You convinced yourself it would ease if you kept winning. But it’s getting worse. You keep raising the ceiling, and the guilt sinks deeper and deeper. How long until you can’t carry it anymore? You’re the most contradictory of all humans. Maybe that’s why you’re also the most human.”
The knocking still hadn’t stopped.
“Maybe I should just spell it out,” Leo went on, “as if you were a toddler who doesn’t understand his own mind?”
At that, Azriel bit his lip hard enough to break skin. Blood welled.
“Don’t mess with me.”
“Messing? I’m not mess—”
“You are.”
Azriel cut him off, glaring.
“You’re not me.”
“I am created by—”
“No.”
“…”
“You weren’t created by me. You were created by the goddess of death.”
“…”
The moment he said it, the knocking ceased. Azriel’s voice dropped even further.
“More precisely… you’re [Soul’s Crucible].”
This dream.
And the one before it.
They were different from the others. Something was off.
…They weren’t him.
It had been [Soul’s Crucible] all along.
Leo smiled, wide and bright.
“Look at that. Smart enough to figure some things out.”
“Basta—”
“Well, if you’re going to insult me, know this: none of this needed to happen if you’d ever bothered to talk to someone. Even a therapist.”
“…Talking to someone won’t help.”
“You claim you don’t want to lie anymore, but you just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“You—”
Before Azriel could finish, his eyes widened. Leo’s face went ice-cold, and a new voice—familiar, deep, arrogant, almost regal in its pride—came from behind them.
“Act. Lie. Contradict. Wear whatever mask suits the moment. The Son of Death is very capable of that.”
“What the—!?”
Azriel shot to his feet, his expression twisting. Leo turned to look over the back of the couch, and he didn’t look pleased either. Azriel ground his teeth until his jaw ached; his glare sharpened, and his voice came low and trembling.
“Pollux…!”
Yes. That vile, putrescent, ignoble, malefic divine spirit emperor.
The root of this world’s rot.
The cause of its suffering.
The cause of Azriel’s suffering.
Azriel whipped his head toward Leo.
“You think showing me this… this trash—will make me better!?”
His voice rose before he could stop it. He had rarely felt hatred so pure. If anyone deserved it, Pollux did.
Leo’s expression darkened.
“He… wasn’t created by you or me.”
Azriel froze.
“What…?”
What had he just said?
“…He’s real.”
Azriel’s eyes blew even wider.
’He entered my mind again…!?’
“I thought after that pathetic display of begging for my presence, I would finally show myself again. You couldn’t even last a proper week, could you, Son of Death?”
Azriel felt the heat of anger settle into a smolder, his heart hammering against his ribs, his lungs dragging at the air.
“Bullshit,” Azriel snapped, a scowl cutting his face.
“’Bullshit’?” Pollux tilted his head, as though genuinely curious, repeating the word as if tasting it.
’Calm down…’
“Yes—bullshit. You don’t show up out of pity, least of all after I tried to reach you.”
Pollux went silent. Those deep, unreadable eyes—depth without bottom—fixed on Azriel and did not blink.
“…You want this to end, don’t you? You want to know why I’m doing this?”
“…”
Pollux turned his head toward Leo.
“You are no martyr.” Then he looked back to Azriel.
“I simply want the key.”
“What key?”
“You know what the key is.”
’What is he talking about?’
“Haven’t we played long enough, Son of Death? All of this ends if you tell me the key.”
“Again: I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Irritation pricked Azriel’s skin—and, strangely, mirrored itself in Pollux.
“I will not stop until you tell me where it is. I am patient. If you want to waste a thousand years until one of us yields, so be it. But perhaps I will tire of waiting. Perhaps you need… extra motivation, if I don’t get the key soon.”
“…What are you talking about?”
“…He believes you have something he wants,” Leo said quietly. “He has believed it all along. Time moves differently for him than for us. The ’months’ he killed us in the Forest of Eternity—mere seconds to him. Unless we give him the key, he’ll keep pressing, and we’ll suffer more.”
Azriel’s lip twitched. Leo sat there like a man watching rain.
“And maybe you’ve both misunderstood me,” Azriel said, steady now.
“Let me spell it out: I don’t know what key you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” Pollux replied.
“No. I don’t.”
Pollux refused the refusal.
“I have no interest in your little tricks. Lying will get you nothing.”
Slowly, Azriel’s mouth curved. His hands curled into fists. Across the walls, the floor, the upholstered arms of the couch, ice began to bloom—petals of frost unfurling like pale roses, the room pearl-cold in answer to the storm inside him.
“…How can you be so sure I’m lying?” he asked softly.
“Because she told me.”
“She?”
The room was already frigid, yet the temperature seemed to fall from something colder than Azriel’s ice—from a place even winter feared.
“The goddess of Death.”
’The goddess of Death…?’
Azriel’s heart began to race—for a different reason. The room kept growing colder; the air thickened. Outside, the stars burned unnaturally bright while the darkness between them deepened. A chill rode the faintest whisper of wind, slipping through despite closed doors and windows.
What was this feeling—this swelling, ominous wrongness?
Azriel’s teeth ground together.
“…It’s hard to recall. If you told me what you discussed, I could actually help.”
Pollux shook his head.
“What we spoke of is irrelevant to you.”
“How could it be!?”
The disrespect set Azriel’s blood boiling.
“You have the key. You act weak, pathetic, worthless; then you beg for mercy. Amusing—for a time. But my patience is gone. I won’t fall for your act, Son of Death. You won’t fool me.”
’An act?’ Azriel’s thoughts stumbled.
’How ridiculous—how could he suddenly decide I’ve been pretending all along…?’
He couldn’t find words. Even Leo’s eyes widened at that.
“’The Fourth Authority’ won’t know I’ve broken my promise,” Pollux went on.
“No one knows I’m inside your mind. No one will believe you.”
“…!”
“For all your strength, you’re reckless to let me in so easily. Then again, the seals you’ve placed elsewhere—strong enough that even I can’t break them.”
“It’s time for you to leave,” Leo said sharply, rising and flicking a hand—
“Uhk—!”
He crumpled a heartbeat later, on his knees, clutching his right wrist, hand bent the wrong way.
Azriel swallowed hard, looking from Leo to Pollux, who hadn’t so much as shifted.
“You’re misunderstan—”
“I’m not. You’ve already deceived me once, letting me see only the pasts of Leo Karumi and Azriel Crimson in this loop. You sealed the others on purpose, so I know nothing. There aren’t enough stars in all the skies to make me trust you.”
’What kind of madness is this? Has he thought this all along?’
Azriel’s pulse thundered. Pollux had always tossed him like a toy; the helplessness frayed him raw.
“The only paths left are that you give me the key—or you die. In your death, there will be a window to scour your memories… all your loops… and find where you hid it.”
Cold sweat slid down Azriel’s face.
’He’s serious…’
“Even if I must face the wrath of the goddess of death for killing you, it will be worth it.”
“You… you’re genuinely insane.” Azriel couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice.
Pollux chuckled, haughty and low.
“There must have been a loop where we met face to face—truly met. One where you and I fought. I can feel it. There are many scars on my soul, but one of them burns at the sight of you. I wonder what happened there.”
Gooseflesh rippled over Azriel’s skin.
“So—what will it be, Son of Death?”
Azriel’s mouth felt chalk-dry.
’What am I supposed to do? Give him a key I don’t even know exists—or die and let him take everything? Is that why he wanted me to end myself with the void artifact—to see the memories of all my loops afterward?’
If so…
Azriel pressed his lips together.
’What the hell…’
“I’ll take that as a refusal,” Pollux sighed behind his mask.
“Predictable. Disappointing.”
“Watch out!” Leo shouted in panic.
Pollux vanished. Time seemed to snag; when it released, he was already beside Azriel, so fast the moment barely had edges. Azriel turned, pallid, meeting the angle of Pollux’s mask inches from his own face.
The bad feeling detonated.
An instant later, agony bloomed in Azriel’s right chest. He clutched at it, groaning through clenched teeth.
“I’ll give you one last chance,” Pollux said.
There was no blood.
“You have one month to give me the key.”
There was no wound.
“If you haven’t by then, I’ll kill you.”
Azriel glared up at him.
“You think a threat will make me hand it over?”
“You will.”
For a heartbeat Pollux seemed titanic—something looking down at a blade of grass.
“I don’t care how this scenario proceeds. I don’t care who I must hurt. I don’t care which gods descend—the real ones or their imitations. I want the key. If you refuse, I’ll kill you. But before that, I’ll kill almost all the participants. I’ll kill your sister. Then I’ll kill you. Then I’ll take the key anyway—before she comes for me.”
“You—!”
“If you want anyone you care for to survive this, make up your mind and hand over what I desire most.”
“…”
“Goodbye, Son of Death.”
Azriel blinked—and Pollux was gone.
His body trembled; the pain still burned under his chest. Leo knelt, panting, sweat slicking his hair and pooling on the floor.
Azriel’s gums tasted of iron as his jaw locked harder.
’Dammit—what key? What key!? I don’t know anything!’
All of it over some deranged, festering misunderstanding—one even he hadn’t known existed.
If something happened now—if Pollux could fool the Fourth Authority—he’d go unblamed. He had just proved it. He wouldn’t hesitate to break his word.
Cracks spidered through the air—like glass shattering, though it was the room itself splitting along invisible seams. Azriel barely registered the sound. He only knew the mistake when it was too late: dozens of white hands burst from the fractures and seized him, and the world went dark—
—and Azriel woke.
