He sat on the bridge with his legs crossed, his left elbow resting on his left knee, fingers tangled in his hair as he barely registered the sensation while lost in thought. The chain-hilt dagger lay before him, its long chain sprawled across the golden bridge.

His eyes narrowed at the blade as he contemplated: ‘Was it the one that healed me? But how? I left it embedded in that creepy eye.’

He resolved not to leave the bridge until he discovered who or what had healed him—and why they had done it. Frustration bubbled within him, and he pulled harder on his hair, gritting his teeth.

“Tsk.”

‘Glaring at it isn’t helping.’ He loosened his grip on his hair, sliding his fingers out to look at his palm, which bore the number ‘47.’

He surmised that whatever had healed him did so while he had been unconscious for the last three days. He racked his brain, trying to recall any unusual sensations or occurrences during that time, but nothing came to mind.

“Ga!!” He ruffled his hair with both hands before gripping it tightly once more and thinking back to Vulgar. ‘Maybe there was a term in our deal that allows me to be healed if I win against the monsters here.’

“Ha!!” He pulled harder. ‘No! That doesn’t sound like Vulgar; he made it clear… he wants me to lose… to die… and become a Deadman... whatever that is. But then, who healed me?’

He gritted his teeth, digging his nails into his scalp. ‘A hidden term or condition in my deal with Vulgar could be the first possible answer, but why would Vulgar include a term that could heal me? Wasn’t the dagger all he gave me? Doesn’t he want me dead? No, no, no, there can’t be any such term or condition.’

Warm crimson liquid slowly began to stream from his scalp down the sides of his face, but he barely noticed, too focused to care. ‘What if defeating that monster automatically healed me? But how?’

He closed his eyes, trying to recall everything that had happened during his battle with the ruby eye. ‘I jumped, swirled the chain, sent the dagger flying, and fell into a body of water—'

Suddenly, he froze. ‘I fell into a body of water! A body of water at the base of the altar!’

He slipped his blood-stained fingers out from his hair and immediately jumped to his feet. He looked up at the bright blue sky and along the walls, yet he still found nothing.

‘I fell into a body of water!’ He frantically repeated, searching for a clue. ‘Maybe it had a tunnel that led to this place… and I somehow got healed in there!’

He glanced behind him at the doors. ‘Or maybe one of these doors leads back to the shrine.’

Absently, he kept backing up, lost in thought and speculation, until he tripped on the dagger’s chains, causing them to clank loudly.

“Ahk!”

He stumbled, arms flailing, and before he could regain his balance, he fell into the water with a loud splash. Panic gripped him as he thrashed in the cool, azure liquid, desperately trying to get his bearings.

Breathing heavily, his body was flipped by the water, and he found himself facing the bottom. What he saw there struck him. Rather than a soft pool floor, the bottom of the water body revealed a dark, foreboding abyss. Tendrils of ethereal darkness writhed beneath him, moving slowly and deliberately as he caught glimpses of his blood fading into the clear water.

“Nmm!” Air escaped his lips in a bubble as he felt a slight tinge on his scalp, which disappeared as quickly as it had come. His gaze returned to the dark liquid, which seemed to pulsate with a mystical energy, sending a chill down his spine.

His heart pounded in his chest as realization dawned on him. This dark, tendril-filled void was not just an eerie underwater scene; it was the passage back to the shrine, the body of water at the base of the altar.

The tendrils, the darkness—everything.

Feeling a surge of urgency, Fallen’s heart raced as he began to swim back toward the golden bridge, his arms cutting through the cool water. The smooth, silky texture glided over his skin, but the chill seeped into his bones.

Each stroke sent ripples through the sky-blue water, the liquid parting easily as he moved. The dark tendrils below appeared to stir restlessly, as if sensing his departure, yet they remained confined to the depths. He held his breath as water began to seep into his nostrils, but he forced himself to stay calm, focusing on the shimmering golden bridge ahead as he squinted.

As he drew closer, the intricate engravings on the bridge’s surface glinted in the ambient light. His muscles ached with exertion, but he pressed forward, driven by the need to escape the ominous passage below.

Finally reaching the edge of the bridge, he grabbed hold of it, feeling the cold metal solid beneath his fingers. With all his strength, he pulled himself up and climbed onto the golden surface. He lay there for a moment, panting and drenched, the cool air mingling with the remnants of water on his skin.

As he caught his breath, he glanced back at the serene yet deceptive water, the dark tendrils now a haunting memory.

‘So that’s how I got here…’