There's this thing about silence. People think it's peaceful. I think it's just noise that forgot how to speak.
We're inside this lunar dome—call it a prison, or salvation wrapped in silver cellophane. Same thing, really.
The light here doesn't feel real. It's soft, artificial. Like the kind of kindness people give when they don't actually care but want to look like they do.
Our wounds are gone, sure—"lunar blessing" from a constellation that, frankly, seems way too invested in our drama. But right now, no one's talking. It's the kind of silence that feels like it's holding its breath. Like we're all waiting for the curtain to drop on a play we never auditioned for.
Tick, tick.
Yeah, I hear it too—that imaginary countdown inside my head. Classic anxiety trick—no batteries needed.
Eventually, time's going to run out. And when it does, we'll have to do what we have to do: survive.
---
"Status Window"
> [ STATUS WINDOW ]
Title: ■■■■■■■■■■■ Of ■■■, The Extra Who Shouldn't Exist
Name: Lucifer ■■■■■ ???
Age: 18
Race: Human
Rank: E
Supporting Constellation: None
Stigma: None
Personal Attribute: ■■■■■'s ■■■■■ (?)Eye of Tsukuyomi
Exclusive Attribute: Perfect Recall
Statistics:
Strength: 12 | Stamina: 15 | Speed: 10
Perception: 14 | Health: 13 | Magic Power: 08
Perseverance: 13 | Luck: 05 | Charm: 03
Remarks: The Extra Who Shouldn't Exist. You could make a decent villain. ]]
Cute.
Apparently even the status window thinks I'm better off as a villain. I'd argue, but it's not exactly wrong. I mean, look at that charm stat—pretty sure rocks score higher.
Sometimes I stare at that screen and wonder if the numbers are supposed to define me. Strength, stamina, luck... As if a person can be boiled down to digits and labels. I get it—it's convenient. But how can I be so pathetically weak?
Anyway, here's the shiny, double-edged prize I apparently "earned":
> [Exclusive Attribute: Perfect Recall]
Grade: EX
Type: Passive / Mental
Description:
Perfect, instant recall of all memories. Visual, auditory, emotional—you name it. Immune to illusions, lies, and memory tampering.
Perks:
Replay any memory, frame by frame.
Mimic skills after seeing them once.
Detect inconsistencies in what people say.
Drawback:
You can't forget. Anything. Ever. ]]
Sounds impressive, right?
You'd think so.
But it's a prison disguised as a gift.
And every day it drags me deeper.
Imagine every awkward moment, every scream, every silence — burned into your mind like a scar you can't heal.
Every promise broken, every "I'll stay" that vanished into nothing.
You don't just remember. You relive it.
Over and over. In brutal, unending 4K.
Blessing or curse? Depends on how sentimental you are, I guess. Personally, I think it's the Akashic Record's idea of a bad joke. A punishment disguised as potential. Like handing a starving man a photograph of food and saying, "Here, remember this."
---
"Lucifer, do you have a plan to survive this mess?" she asks me, her hand still clutched to her shoulder like pain is a souvenir she's too stubborn to let go of.
"It's healed," I say. "Let it go."
"What...?" Her voice is so fragile it might shatter.
She looks at me like I'm supposed to say something inspiring. Save her with words, maybe. But I'm not that guy. Never was. I'm the background character who gets five lines before being deleted from the script.
And yet, I remember. I remember how she died in the novel. How the demon inside her took over. How she stopped fighting because it's helpless.
So I said something cruel instead.
"Let go of your shoulder, idiot. How can you call yourself a princess of the Elven Domain if you can't even grasp the situation properly?"
Yeah. Harsh. But sometimes comfort is a drug, and I didn't want her overdosing on false hope.
She clenched her fist. Blood welled up like a tiny rebellion, but it healed instantly. Thanks, moonlight. Too bad you'll be gone when we actually need you.
"I never saw... this kind of situation in my life. Always someone there for me," she whispered.
She didn't cry. Dignity wouldn't let her. Even here. Even now.
"Elena," I said quietly, "pull yourself together. I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. But we're past the point of fairy tales. No one's coming to save us. So... let's survive together, yeah?"
I reached out, barely brushing her hand.
A flicker of warmth—quiet, unspoken reassurance.
Just enough to say, you're not alone, without making it a big deal.
Elin and Aren were watching. Both looked like they'd already given up but were pretending not to. You know, the kind of fake optimism—exhaustion in disguise.
"I have a plan," I said.
"Want to hear it?"
No answer. But they didn't walk away either. That's as close to hope as I get these days.
Inside the energy dome, it paced—a twelve-foot nightmare wrapped in black armor that looked like twisted tree bark from some cursed forest. Its eyes leaked a thick, red mist, curling like smoke from a fire that burned memories.
The air around it tasted bitter, metallic, like ash lingering on your tongue.
Every breath threatened to pull that hallucination mist deep into your lungs—poison for the mind and soul.
"Elena," I said, voice low, "that thing's no ordinary beast. It's an A-rank mutant—Obsidian Howler."
She flinched as it grinned, revealing dagger-length fangs slick with some strange, glistening sap.
"Armor like obsidian—Mana bullets just bounce off. Its right arm? Strong enough to crush a magic jeep ." I paused, watching her eyes widen.
"Left arm's worse. Twitching vines with thorns that move like they have a mind of their own."
No one spoke. The silence weighed heavy—thick with fear they weren't ready to admit. So I kept going, steady and sharp.
"The eyes leak hallucination mist. Get that in your lungs..." I tapped my throat, "and you'll see all the things you try to forget. Your failures. Your shame. Your fears."
The words hung between us, like a curse being spelled aloud.
"But it's not invincible."
I tapped my temple, then pointed at the beast's neck.
"Take out those eyes—no mist. The joints—knees, armpits, base of the spine—soft spots."
Elena swallowed hard.
"Fire burns the vines. Sonic bursts throw it off balance."
Elena's voice cracked, barely a whisper.
"Then... how do we kill it?"
I looked at her, then the others.
Slowly, I turned my head, exposing the back of my neck.
"One clean stab here."
I let it hang for a second.
"Deep and fast enough..."
Then, "Ends it."
"We don't have sound-element magic users, or fire types. All we can do is create a moment—a split second where I get that hit."
My voice steadied with the weight of the plan because, yeah, I actually have a trump card.
Thanks to my Exclusive Attribute: Perfect Recall.
Near the seventh volume of "No Happy Ending in the 999th Regression", the author dropped concept art of forbidden magic. I used to cling to that novel like oxygen—it was my lifeline.
Now, I remember the whole spell diagram, every magic circuit. Because it's neutral element magic. I'm hoping it'll work.
********
Author's Note:
Hey, thanks for reading! If you liked this chapter, a power stone or comment would mean the world. Your support keeps me going!