The world changed. The wall, the fall, the sea of beetles—all vanished. Only two golden eyes remained, gazing at Rob from the heavens.

  They were the heavens. Two stars burning with condensed golden light, stretching endlessly in each direction.

  Rob wasn't himself anymore. Light as a feather, he stopped falling. He had no body to fall with anymore.

  He was formless. He couldn't even say that his soul had left his body, for he was no more than a thought—fleeting and powerless.

  He tried to speak, to ask what was going on, or maybe to wonder if this was how death felt. Yet he couldn't.

  The only thing he instinctively knew he could do was send some kind of feeling, maybe with some images and visuals, like he usually thought in his head.

  So he sent a ripple of emotion that mixed curiosity, interest, and puzzlement to the most likely culprit for bringing him here.

  The golden bird that had become the size of the world.

  It didn’t reply, not right away. He even suspected it was never going to respond.

  Then he heard it.

  A small murmur like the burble of flowing water or the song of morning birds.

  The voice was childlike but held the weight of ages. Muffled, as if from the other side of the world, yet clear as a whisper in his ear.

  "What… do… you… desire?" it asked.

  Rob radiated confusion. It had been the one to summon him here—wasn't that what he should be asking?

  "Your… desire?" the voice pressed, echoing all around him, as if he were trapped within the speaker's throat.

  Rob unconsciously radiated confusion again, this time tinged with a flicker of annoyance. He couldn't grasp what the creature mean. Was it offering him a final wish?

  It couldn't be… could it?

  Then he remembered what that local—Azura—had told him: in this mad world, strange magical powers were the norm.

  He tried to shake his nonexistent head, disbelief thickening around his consciousness until it felt as heavy as water.

  Realizing he hadn’t answered yet, Rob considered the question seriously. It wouldn’t be wise to anger the mythical bird.

  He wanted to express his desire to live, but there was no emotion tied to the mere act of survival. In the end, he managed only to send a wave of fear and danger, laced with the image of the bird catching him in its talons and flying him away from the black sea of beetles hungering below.

  The star-like eyes flashed with a white-golden light, clear proof the bird had received his reply.

  It paused for a moment before two words rippled through him:

  "Not true."

  Like him , the bird's voice carried its own blend of emotions—amusement, indifference, and above them all, a cold, inhuman contempt.

  Rob was infuriated, and he made no effort to suppress his emotion.

  How could this bird know his true desire? And if it already knew, why ask?

  He wanted to live. At least, he thought he did.

  This gave him pause. Slowly, the storm of frustration and anger surrounding him gave way to calm reflection and reluctant understanding.

  Since he came to the wall, Death was the only correct path. deep down, Rob believed his demise was the final answer for the questions and doubts in his heart. He could struggle all he wanted, But he was already dead.

  He was far from home, stranded in a strange, alien world. Hadn't his old life already ended?

  It had. The ordinary, mundane life he once knew had reached its quiet conclusion the moment he woke in that white, featureless room.

  With all its dreams, hopes, and normalcy—it was gone now, and he didn't know what to do.

  So what now? What did he really want in this new life of his?

  Then, it dawned on him. The answer was painfully simple; he just didn't want to admit it.

  Rob wanted nothing from this world, at least not when the cost was his old one.

  So he answered the bird again, this time with absolute clarity and conviction.

  He sent the feeling of home, of belonging—the feeling of his mother's warm, unconditional love and his father's silent, unwavering support.

  That was what he truly longed for. He wanted it back. His normal, unmagical life. Rob yearned for his old dreams of being a football legend, for that surge of pride when he snatched victory for his team in the final moments, for the joy of returning to the welcoming shouts of his younger siblings.

  More than anything, he longed for a way back to his world.

  At first, Rob was conservative with his emotions. He tried to reason with himself, to justify his desire to go home. Then, halfway through his declaration, he realized he didn't have to.

  Desires don't need to be logical or reasonable. So he let it all out. Like rain, his feelings first came in bursts. Then the rain grew into a flood of raw emotions and tangled memories.

  Rob poured all of himself in front of the mythical bird, hoping—just hoping—that it might truly grant his desire.

  The bird received it all in utter silence. The two golden suns it had for eyes stared right through him, peering into the heart of his soul, into the flame of desire that raged and burned deep within.

  "Sweet," the bird spoke with the voice of singing children. "Your fire is so sweet."

  It paused—just for a heartbeat—before continuing, its tone now soft and sorrowful, like a child denied their favorite candy.

  "But it's not enough."

  The bird's words this time held no discontent, only a childish sort of disappointment. It uttered them with the sadness and innocence of a little kid who once thought his father to be the most awesome man alive, only to realize that he was merely a man like the rest.

  Rob mentally recoiled, torn between feeling insulted—having his emotions, memories, and entire life treated like an unwanted meal—and feeling distressed for being rejected a second time.

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  He knew this was a chance. For what, he couldn't say. But if he didn't convince the bird, he would regret it.

  Maybe not for long, for he would die soon after, but he ought to try at least.

  So he changed his approach, perhaps to give the bird what it wanted to hear.

  Rob radiated ambition. He sent forth another desire, one he had believed too costly to even consider, for its price was the extinguishing of all hope of returning home and the acceptance of this world as his new reality.

  He channeled his curiosity, his anticipation, and the hunger to learn and explore this strange new world. Desperately, he directed those newfound feelings toward the golden-eyed bird. But more than that, Rob wasn't going to settle and lay low. No, he longed to reach the highest point of the wall and feel the pride and joy of achieving what no one else ever could.

  And the bird took it all.

  It waited for him to finish, a strange light kindling deep within its watchful eyes.

  "Lovely!" it exclaimed with bright, flashing joy that didn't last long. "But still not enough," the bird continued, its childlike voice growing lower and lower. "I want to, but it's not enough… not enough, not enough."

  "I want to… I really want your fire… but it's not enough…"

  "Not enough, not enough."

  "…not enough…"

  The last words reverberated around him, scattering in every direction as if claimed by the wind. Then they grew distant, retreating as though entire worlds were stretching between him and the bird.

  Rob panicked, a dreadful thought dragging him into the depths of despair. The bird had given up on him—a thought that was confirmed moments later as its radiant golden eyes began to dim, fading until they were swallowed by the shimmering expanse around him. Then even that golden space began to ripple and twist, trembling as if ready to collapse and cast him out into the world beyond.

  His thoughts crashed and tangled, colliding so violently he could almost hear the sound of rattling within his formless body. The damned bird couldn't just give him hope and then abandon him. He had accepted death because there was no choice. But no one wanted to die, not like this, not in such a cruel, meaningless way.

  He had to convince the bird to save him. But how?

  The damnable creature wanted his desires, and when it saw them, it found them wanting.

  He had shown it his longing, his burning desire to go home. He was sure he wanted nothing more than that. Yet it refused.

  So Rob compromised. He gave in. He laid aside that most yearning desire to see his family again and forsook any chance to achieve his old dreams.

  He would try, no matter how hard, to forget his old life and embrace the new one. All to ignite and fuel another desire: to experience all this world had to offer.

  He would adventure. He would wield mythical power and see his childhood dreams come true. He would rise higher and higher—higher than anyone had ever gone.

  And there, he would make it his own. If he had no way home, he would carve one for himself in this new world.

  Yet the stubborn bastard still refused.

  To be honest, he wasn't even sure about all that talk of reaching the highest point and stuff. Sure, he wanted to, but whether he actually could—that was another matter entirely. He'd only said it to impress the bird. And clearly, it hadn't worked.

  Like a dying star, the golden space around him trembled violently, cracks spreading everywhere like a mirror about to splinter. Rob realized he had less than a second to act, to find one last desire to offer this unreasonable, wretched creature.

  Hopeless and with nothing left to lose, he gambled.

  Greed.

  He chose to be greedy. That was what his final emotion screamed—deep, endless, unfathomable, and unsatiable greed.

  Both. I desire both. Rob all but screamed at the departing bird.

  If he still had a voice, he would have shouted it to the heavens that he desired both: to explore and experience every wonder this strange world had to offer, and, in the end, to return home. He was unwilling to leave his old life behind. This was just a journey. A long, impossible, dangerous journey, but it was just a journey nonetheless.

  And at the end of it, he would be home. His real, warm, familiar home.

  That was his final desire.

  Rob couldn't tell if his outburst had worked or not, but he didn't have to wait long to know.

  No sooner had his declaration ended than the golden space snapped back, solid and stable, as though it had never teetered on the edge of destruction. Then, the golden eyes reappeared before him, closer than ever—so near he thought that, if he still had hands, he could almost touch them.

  "My, oh my," said the bird with a melodious chorus of children's laughter. "How delicious! How sweet!"

  At first, relief surged through him , thankful for the extra seconds he'd gained. Then came joy and elation. Rob clearly sensed the bird's amusement, its immense happiness and undeniable approval. But soon, joy twisted to dread as the laughter grew louder and louder, until each sound struck like a hammer in his skull.

  The sounds drowned him, seeping into his consciousness. It filled every thought, every fragment of his being, until he felt himself tearing apart, dissolving into the golden space. And still, the laughter didn't stop. The cacophony grew and grew, until it completely consumed him.

  Then, it became him.

  Rob was happy—so extremely happy that he laughed and laughed. The other three were so mean. They had been playing outside without him for so long, but finally, he could join in the fun.

  Then, with the sound of countless birds, he spoke:

  "Now, that is a worthy desire."

  After that, Rob became whole again. But this time, there were no golden eyes watching him, for he was looking through those exact golden eyes.

  For a brief moment, his gaze lingered on the place where his consciousness had once drifted. A ripple of wariness and unease surfaced deep within his golden irises before, softly, he closed them.

  The vast, sun-drenched white sky was the first to welcome Rob as he opened his eyes. His conversation with the golden mythical bird had felt too long, as though hours had passed in that radiant golden void. Yet in truth, it hadn't lasted longer than a single breath in or out.

  Rob's gaze swept left and right, searching for the bird that was supposed to swoop down and snatch him from the jaws of danger, flying him away to safety. Despite being sure that it had agreed to help, his heart almost stopped when he saw no hint of any luminous golden feathers anywhere.

  But thankfully, the bird had not abandoned him. Just a heartbeat after he regained consciousness, he sensed a gentle force pushing from behind.

  Then, in a burst of golden colors, he began to rise, his body straightening as if lifted by an unseen pillar of air.

  Rob's jaw nearly hit his knees, a dumbfounded expression etched across his face. Looking down, he saw himself bathed in a swirling halo of radiant gold. He turned his head in a full circle, eyes wide with awe, taking in what surrounded him. He saw the majestic outline of a luminous golden bird engulfing him completely.

  He stood at the center of its image, the very same golden bird that had followed him since the beginning. Except now, it appeared far more immense and magnificent than before.

  In addition, he could see it clearly now. It was no creature of flesh and feathers. Instead, it was made of pure, living light.

  And now it was enveloping him. Its vast wings stretched at his back, colored like golden dawn. Its long, terrible talons glimmered below his feet. And above him arched its proud, mighty beak, crowned with a mane of shimmering feathers.

  Rob couldn't stifle the shout of pure ecstasy and excitement as he imagined the grand creature taking hold of him and shooting upward like a rising star.

  He felt a connection forming between himself and the phantom bird. And as the link deepened, he let go of all his worries and spread his arms wide, surrendering to the torrent of gold swirling around him.

  The bird, as if approving, lifted its beak toward the heavens and released a joyful, defiant cry.

  "Yes, yes, yeeeeeees!"

  He could sense it now. The bird had finished its manifestation; it was ready to soar. Overcome with exhilaration, he threw his head back and shouted, howled, and laughed.

  He laughed and laughed.

  "Something's wrong." Rob halted his wild laughter, murmuring to himself.

  The bird had clearly finished whatever it was doing. He was certain of that; Rob could tell.

  So why wasn't it flying? Why was the golden halo around him slowing, dimming, fading as though it were about to vanish?

  And worst of all—why did Rob feel the bird was drawing closer, folding back into him instead of taking to the skies?

  "Nooooo!" he screamed. "No, you stupid bird, come back outside and fly me out of here!"

  But the bird didn't listen. Inwardly, it continued to gather the last threads of golden light around Rob's body, condensing them tighter and tighter until all of it rushed upward, absorbed into his head through his forehead.

  In the end, when the last spark of light vanished, a playful giggle brushed against Rob's ear, followed by a wave of reassurance and encouragement, as if the bird were patting him on the back and saying, You can do this.

  "You cursed bird—"

  He was about to commence insulting the bird and demand the creature's return, but he froze halfway.

  Because honestly, he had no time. A far more urgent problem demanded his full attention. The invisible force that had been gently supporting him mid-air was gone.

  So he was falling again.

  Worse still, the black beetles that had been blasted away by the explosion of golden light were already returning. They swarmed from every direction, sealing off every possible escape.

  Guided by strange, instinctive impulse, Rob hurled out his hand toward the white wall and tugged.

  Instantly, his fall halted. Body jerking forward, he sharply approached the wall as if pulled by unseen force.

  The beetles, however, wouldn't just watch their prey slip away. Abandoning their earlier plan to surround him, they gathered in front of his path, throwing wave after wave to form wall after wall of writhing black bodies.

  Once more surrendering to that alien yet increasingly familiar instinct, he did something incredibly reckless.

  He poured every ounce of his new power… and pushed away from the wall.