Vol3 Chapter 51 Idiot

Morning came quietly.

Amos opened his eyes.

For a moment, he forgot where he was. Then the chill of the stone beneath his back brought it all rushing back—the ruin.

His eyes darted around. Harold was already up. Daren sat close by, finishing what seemed to be the last of their preserved meat. Vena busied herself with tightening the straps on her gear, while Tessa leafed through her spellbook. All four of them were present.

Alive.

Amos just stood there, unmoving, his gaze fixed on them. Harold was the first to notice.

“You're awake.”

Amos blinked.

He glanced at Daren, then Vena, then Tessa. All still there. Nothing had changed—no fading, no strange vanishing, no gaps where people had once stood. Amos let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

“Hah…”

His shoulders slumped, and a quiet, weary laugh slipped out before he could hold it back. Daren glanced over.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Amos rubbed his face.

“Just…”

He looked at the four of them again.

“You're all still here.”

Daren frowned.

“Of course we're still here. Where else would we go?”

Amos laughed again.

“Yeah. Right.”

Harold gave him a strange look.

“You slept badly?”

“Something like that.”

Amos pushed himself up and stretched, the pressure in his chest eased slightly.

They're here.

Whatever the ruin had caused, whatever those other versions were, whatever had gone down in that underground facility… these four were still sitting in front of him. That had to mean something. Maybe they really were the originals. Maybe the facility hadn’t made them at all. Maybe the remains belonged to a completely different group.

Maybe—

Amos paused, refusing to let himself spiral—at least not yet. His eyes shifted to Daren, chewing with a hint of suspicion, then to Vena, and finally to Tessa. That’s when an old memory surfaced.

***

One of the stories they had told him around the campfire.

Daren had apparently once fallen asleep during watch and tried to convince everyone afterward that he'd been “resting his eyes while remaining fully alert.”

Amos smiled.

“You know, Daren…”

Daren looked up.

“Yeah?”

“I've been thinking.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

Harold snorted.

Amos chuckled.

“Didn't you once say you could sleep during watch without actually falling asleep?”

Daren's face immediately became defensive.

“I said I could rest my eyes.”

“While standing?”

“Yes.”

“And you fell over?”

“I did not fall over.”

Vena glanced at him.

“You fell into the campfire.”

Daren pointed at her.

“That was unrelated.”

Tessa quietly added, “You also blamed the fire.”

“I stand by that.”

Amos laughed, a sound that was genuine. For a brief moment, everything felt normal—almost painfully so. He gave his head a small shake.

***

“I remember thinking that was probably the stupidest thing I'd heard in this ruin.”

Daren stared at him.

“...What?”

Amos stopped.

“Your story.”

“What story?”

The smile on Amos's face remained.

“About falling asleep during watch.”

Daren’s face shifted gradually—no hint of amusement, no trace of confusion, just something edging closer to unease.

“I've never fallen asleep during watch.”

Amos's smile remained.

“You fell into the campfire.”

Daren stopped chewing.

“I... didn't.”

Harold looked at Amos.

“Eoghan, Daren has never done that.”

Vena nodded.

“He's careless sometimes, but he has never fallen asleep while on watch.”

Tessa closed her book.

“I don't remember that either.”

Amos stayed silent, his smile lingering for a few more seconds before fading away. He turned his gaze toward Daren.

“You told me.”

Daren shook his head.

“No.”

“You told me.”

“I didn't.”

Amos’s gaze shifted between them—Harold, Vena, Tessa. All four were certain. Then, suddenly, another memory surfaced. Not the story itself, but the feeling. The way they’d laughed. How Daren had flushed with embarrassment. Harold’s resigned sigh. Vena slipping in another detail. Tessa hiding her laughter behind her hand. He remembered every bit of it. But they didn’t.

Amos lowered his head.

Then he laughed.

A quiet, empty laugh.

“Of course.”

Daren frowned.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Amos rubbed his face.

“I'm just an idiot.”

He laughed again.

This time, there was something almost mocking in it—not aimed at them, but at himself.

I really thought destroying the machine solved everything.

He glanced down the dark corridor. The reconstruction facility had vanished, its power source destroyed. And yet, the answer sat plainly before him. Slowly, Amos’s expression began to shift.

They're still here simply because they haven't disappeared yet.

He remembered the facility—its hum of energy, the shimmering crystals, the reconstruction chambers, the replicated figures. Everything ran on that power; everything relied on it. And now the source was gone. 

If they're connected to it...

His gaze returned to the four.

Then they're running out.

Not physically—something worse. Their very existence was slipping away, whatever had been keeping it alive slowly fading. The first to vanish would be the memories. Small ones at first. A single story. One event. Then another. And another. Until, piece by piece, it was all gone. Amos swallowed.

“...That's what's happening.”

“What?” Harold asked.

Amos looked at him.

For a moment, he almost told them.

Instead, he smiled.

“I don't feel like exploring today.”

Daren blinked.

“You?”

“Me.”

“You've been dragging us through this ruin for days.”

“I know.”

“You've been the one complaining that we need to find the others.”

“I know.”

“And now you don't want to explore?”

Amos nodded.

“I feel sick.”

It was a lie.

He wasn't sick.

Not physically.

But none of them needed to know that.

Harold studied him for a moment before finally nodding.

“Then we'll stay here.”

“Thank you.”

Amos sat down.

Then he looked at them.

“I want to ask you all something.”

The four exchanged glances.

“What?”

“Tell me about yourselves.”

Daren raised an eyebrow.

“You've been asking us questions for days.”

“I know.”

Amos gave him a small smile.

“But tell me again.”

“Everything?”

“As much as you can remember.”

There was something strange about the request.

None of them understood it.

But they agreed.

So they began.

***

Harold spoke first, reminiscing about his childhood, his first sword, and the person who taught him. He shared the story of the first monster he killed, the moment he met Daren, and the time when the four of them finally became a proper team.

He talked for nearly half an hour.

Amos listened without interrupting or correcting, taking in every word and committing it to memory.

Then Daren started talking, his stories spilling out in no particular order. He bounced from childhood memories to embarrassing blunders, from old adventures to heated arguments, from shared meals to tavern brawls, all peppered with endless gripes about Harold.

Amos laughed occasionally.

Sometimes it was genuine, other times it was simply because Daren expected it.

Then Vena spoke, recalling places, roads, villages, people, and little details the others had long forgotten. Tessa followed, her memories softer—her first spell, her teacher, her first failure, and the moment she knew she wanted to become an adventurer.

Amos listened to every word.

An hour passed.

Then another. Slowly, Amos began to notice something—Daren had stopped midway through a story.

“Wait.”

Harold looked at him.

“What?”

Daren frowned.

“I can't remember what happened next.”

“You were talking about the northern ruins,” Vena said.

“I know.”

Daren stared at the floor.

“I remember going there.”

He paused.

“But...”

His brow furrowed.

“I don't remember why.”

Amos's fingers tightened.

“That's okay.”

Daren looked at him.

“Is it?”

“Yeah.”

Amos smiled.

“Take your time.”

Daren kept talking.

A few minutes later, Vena couldn’t remember the name of a town.

Then Tessa lost the picture of her old teacher’s face.

Harold forgot the name of the horse he’d had when he was young.

Small things.

Little things.

But they kept happening.

Amos said nothing.

He simply listened.

Until—

Tessa suddenly stopped speaking. Her eyes looked distant.

“...I think I'm forgetting something.”

Amos's heart sank.

“What?”

She looked at him.

“I don't know.”

Her voice became quieter.

“I don't know what I'm forgetting.”

Amos forced himself to smile.

“Then don't worry about it.”

She nodded.

They continued.

Another hour.

More memories faded away—names, faces, places, conversations, experiences. Bit by bit, pieces of their lives vanished. Then Amos spotted something strange: Harold’s hand was turning see-through.

Amos stopped breathing.

“Harold.”

“What?”

Amos stared as part of Harold’s fingers seemed to dissolve into thin air. Harold glanced down, his face draining of color.

“...What?”

Daren glanced at his arm and noticed a faint transparency spreading across his skin. Vena’s shoulder seemed to flicker, while Tessa’s hair turned almost see-through in the dim light. None of them screamed. None of them knew what was happening.

Amos did.

The energy was fading fast. The source keeping them alive was dying, and because he had destroyed it, they were dying too.

He had killed them himself.

Amos's eyes burned but he didn't let the tears fall.

He simply kept listening.

Harold kept talking, even as pieces of him vanished. Daren launched into another story, though he couldn’t recall how it ended. Vena tried describing a place, but the name had slipped away. Tessa spoke about her teacher, then forgot their face, then their name, and finally forgot she’d ever had a teacher at all.

Amos listened.

He didn’t stop them or tell them what was going on. He couldn’t—there was nothing he could do. As their voices grew faint and their bodies slowly disappeared, Amos finally realized the cruelest truth.

The facility had given them a reason to exist.

And he had taken that reason away.

One by one, the four people sitting before him became increasingly transparent.

Until Harold looked directly at Amos.

“Eoghan.”

“Yeah?”

“I think…”

Harold smiled faintly.

“I've forgotten something important.”

Amos's throat tightened.

“It's okay.”

Harold nodded.

“Yeah.”

His body flickered.

Daren laughed weakly.

“Guess I forgot something too.”

Vena looked at Amos.

“I don't think I know you anymore.”

Those words hurt more than anything else.

Amos's smile trembled.

“You don't have to.”

Tessa stared at him. For a fleeting moment, recognition flickered in her eyes before vanishing. The four of them began to fade—not violently, not painfully, just quietly, like memories softly erased from a page.

Amos sat there.

Watching until nothing remained. No bodies, no voices, no footprints—just four sets of equipment left scattered on the cold stone floor.

Amos stared at them.

Then he laughed.

Once.

A broken, quiet laugh.

“...Of course.”

He covered his face with one hand.

“I finally figured it out.”

His shoulders trembled.

“And I figured it out too late.”

He lowered his hand.

There was no one left to hear him.

“...I'm really an idiot.”

“... I am sorry...”