The moment his palm touched the smooth trunk, he opened the eyes on his arms and legs again. The strain returned instantly, but he needed every angle now.
The earth split.
The stone and soil burst upward in a slow, heavy bloom, four meters wide.
Dust rose like a curtain, and something pale crawled out from underneath, dragging itself into the light.
A Vowalker.
Its hands shot forward, reaching for Ayanokouji's leg.
Ayanokouji saw it before it moved.
One of the eyes on his calf watched the fingers rise in slow motion. His speed made the danger feel delayed. He simply pulled his leg back, the motion so quick that in his own vision it looked normal.
Shirou's posture changed above.
His eyes widened further, and Ayanokouji caught the shock in his face.
The Vowalker missed.
It did not pause.
Its head snapped upward, and the slit on its face widened. It abandoned the leg and lunged for Ayanokouji's sealed face, fingers spread, aiming for the eyes.
Ayanokouji tilted his head aside.
The claws cut through air.
Then the tree itself reacted.
A vein burst from the trunk.
It was the same dark, rope-like growth that ran through the tree's surface, but now it moved like a whip.
It snapped toward Ayanokouji's neck, so fast that it appeared close to normal speed even through his slowed vision.
He leaned back and let it pass.
The vein tore a line through the air where his throat had been.
Ayanokouji stepped in.
The Vowalker's face-slit was still open from its lunge. He grabbed the edge of the slit with two fingers and pulled, forcing it wider. Inside, The heart was open.
Ayanokouji tore it out.
The Vowalker went limp instantly, collapsing with a dull shudder. Blood spilled from the slit.
Another eye behind his shoulder caught movement.
A second Vowalker burst from the ground behind him, faster than the first. It came up in a crouch, arms already swinging toward the back of his head.
Ayanokouji dropped.
His knees bent and his body folded low. The claws swept over him and struck the tree, scraping the trunk.
Ayanokouji's hand flashed up into the Vowalker's face-slit, two fingers hooking inside.
He ripped the heart free.
The second body collapsed on top of the first.
The ground erupted again.
Two more Vowalkers rose from opposite sides, one with its head tilted strangely, the other staring straight at him without blinking.
Their movements were uneven, but their attacks were direct.
Ayanokouji's eyes tracked both.
He shifted left, then right, threading between their swings. One tried to catch his legs. The other aimed for his eyes again.
Ayanokouji stepped into the gap between them.
He struck upward, not with strength, but with speed. His fingers slid into the first slit, tore out the heart, then rotated and did the same to the second before either could recover.
Two bodies dropped.
Shirou leaned forward at the top.
Ayanokouji started upward.
The trunk had shallow ridges, uneven grooves that looked like scars. He used them like footholds, running diagonally, cutting across the surface in a rising motion. His hands slapped the trunk, his feet pushed off.
The tree lashed out.
Veins snapped from the trunk in rapid bursts, striking like spears. Some were slow enough to avoid easily. Others were fast enough to demand full attention, appearing almost normal speed in his vision.
Ayanokouji moved between them.
One vein aimed for his ribs. He twisted, letting it graze past. Another came for his face, and he turned his head just enough to let it miss by a breath. The eyes on his limbs tracked every strike.
Then the next Vowalker appeared.
It crawled out of the trunk itself.
Its fingers pushed through the wood like it was soft, and its face-slit opened wide. It lunged for Ayanokouji's ankle, trying to anchor him to the tree so the veins could hit.
Ayanokouji's foot lifted.
The claws closed on nothing.
He drove his knee into the Vowalker's head, forcing the slit open further. The heart inside was visible for a fraction of a second. Ayanokouji's fingers snatched it out, and the creature fell away.
He kept climbing.
Two more came from below, leaping upward with unnatural timing.
Ayanokouji saw them in the eyes on his calves first, then in the eyes on his elbows. They aimed for his legs, his waist, anything to slow him.
Ayanokouji did not stop.
He ran up the trunk and used a ridge as a pivot, kicking off sideways. The first Vowalker's hands missed, grabbing air. The second reached higher, closer, and its slit widened in anticipation.
Ayanokouji's hand shot down.
He tore the heart out mid air.
The body fell.
The other followed a heartbeat later.
By the time he reached halfway, the count was already rising.
Vowalkers came from the ground, from the trunk, from the ridges themselves. Each one had a different focus, but the same weakness. Each one guarded its slit instinctively, yet attacked like it had been built for a single purpose.
Ayanokouji exploited that purpose.
A lunge meant the slit opened.
A grab meant the face came close.
A rush meant the organ became reachable.
All of this was possible because his sharp mind met with fast eyes.
He ripped them out one after another, leaving a trail of collapsing bodies at the base and along the trunk.
All he felt was exhaustion.
By the time the tenth fell, his head was pounding again.
The eyes on his limbs burned with strain, and his thoughts threatened to slow. He closed half of them again, keeping only the ones he needed for the next seconds.
The tree punished him for it.
A vein shot out from above, not below.
It struck downward like a falling spear, aimed at his skull. Ayanokouji barely saw it in time. He twisted, and the vein slammed into the trunk, cracking the ridge beside his shoulder.
The impact sent splinters flying.
Another vein followed immediately, then another, forcing him into a narrow path. Ayanokouji ran it, climbing diagonally, shifting his weight across ridges while the tree tried to pin him in place.
Shirou was closer now.
Ayanokouji could see his feet on the flat top, the way he adjusted his stance. Shirou's eyes stayed locked on him. Even now Ayanokouji couldn't see a hint of fear.
Ayanokouji pushed harder.
The world stayed slow.
The attacks stayed fast.
And the vow stayed in his head, repeating itself with the same cold certainty.
Today.
***
Soon Ayanokouji reached the top of the trunk and forced a few more eyes open.
The forest around them was dead again. No matter how far his vision stretched, there was only destruction, and the scattered remains of Vowalkers.
Now even the world beyond that stream had been destroyed.
Most of his eyes narrowed onto the man standing near the edge of the trunk.
Shirou did not flinch. He stood with his feet close to the drop, posture straight, face unreadable.
Blood had dried on his clothes. Fresh blood still clung near his eyebrow, and the slightest tremor in his hands betrayed the exhaustion he refused to show.
Ayanokouji saw every detail.
Shirou stared back, calm enough to be terrifying.
Ayanokouji moved.
He ran so fast the distance vanished in a second, appearing beside Shirou without warning.
His body expected a strike, a desperate counter, some last attempt to survive.
What happened was worse.
Shirou's eyes tracked him.
They followed perfectly, predicting the exact angle and timing. Shirou's gaze slid to where Ayanokouji would be, not where he was, and his body shifted with it.
Shirou jumped backward into open air.
Ayanokouji's eyes widened.
One of the eyes on his chin opened wider, and he saw the trunk respond. A slide began to form from the tree's surface, growing outward beneath Shirou like a ramp being pulled from the wood.
Shirou's eyes narrowed, already calculating.
Ayanokouji could not jump.
His speed was too high. A leap would overshoot, sending him past Shirou and wasting the only chance he had to end this. The vow still sat in his skull like a nail.
Today.
The only path left was the slide.
Ayanokouji shifted his weight to launch toward it, but every active eye tightened at once. Another platform started generating from the tree, rising to cover the slide.
It was not slow.
It was not fast.
It was in the middle, a speed that made it useless. Ayanokouji could not step onto something that did not exist yet.
Shirou had completely figured out Ayanokouji's memory after just paying attention to it a little.
He forced three more eyes open.
Time thickened further.
The strain made his skull throb, but the world finally slowed enough for him to react. Ayanokouji dashed to the right side of the trunk, searching for a better angle.
Shirou's eyes followed him again.
Then the trap began.
The surface where Ayanokouji was about to place his foot started to dissolve. The wood thinned, hollowed, and a spike rose from beneath it, slowly replacing the ground with a jagged point.
Ayanokouji watched it unfold in slow motion.
His eyes narrowed.
He put speed into the step.
Before the trap could fully form, his foot landed on the surface while it still existed. The wood held for a fraction of a second, just long enough to take his weight.
Then it gave.
Ayanokouji did not feel pain.
He still knew.
The pressure was wrong. The angle was wrong. The weakness in his bones made the damage certain. His foot had taken too much force. Something inside it cracked, maybe more than one bone.
He did not stop.
Ayanokouji jumped.
Now he had the distance. Now he could commit. He could not let Shirou stretch this out. The longer it went, the more the tree would reshape itself around them.
Veins snapped from the trunk.
Multiple at once.
They whipped through the air in tight lines, aiming for his throat, his eyes, his joints. Ayanokouji slipped between them with narrow movements, letting them miss by inches.
Shirou landed on the slide.
Ayanokouji landed right above him.
Shirou's expression tightened into annoyance for half a second, the closest thing to a human reaction he had shown since the fight began. His palm pressed into the slide, and the wood shattered beneath them.
The ramp broke apart.
Both of them dropped.
The fall was not free.
The tree guided it, turning the broken slide into a downward channel. They were flowing along the trunk now, carried by the tree's surface as it reshaped itself under their bodies.
Shirou's right hand came up in front of Ayanokouji's face.
His left hand went behind his own back.
Everything happened in slow motion.
Shirou's right fingers flexed, and a vein fired outward like a needle, aimed directly at Ayanokouji's eyes.
Ayanokouji tilted his head just enough, and the vein passed beside his face.
Shirou's left hand moved.
A vein erupted from his palm and drove into his own stomach.
Ayanokouji's eyes widened.
Blood spilled out, thick and dark, floating in the air between them as they slid. Shirou's face tightened for a moment, but he did not lose control. His eyes stayed sharp.
Ayanokouji opened more eyes.
Time slowed again.
His head felt close to splitting, but he needed it. He needed every angle. He needed every second. His vision expanded until he could see the curve of the trunk, the forming veins, the shifting ridges, and Shirou's breathing.
Shirou's lips moved.
The words came out in fragments, too slow to complete a sentence in the time they had. His mouth formed the start of each word, and Ayanokouji read them without effort.
The vein in Shirou's stomach thickened.
It did not stay a vein.
It grew.
The thin line swelled into a trunk, then into a full tree-like pillar, widening inside Shirou's body. The wood forced itself through flesh, anchoring into him, using him as a root.
Ayanokouji understood.
Shirou was turning himself into a brace.
The tree was no longer only a battlefield. Shirou was merging with it, forcing it to grow through him so he could redirect it. He was giving up his body to gain control of the trunk's movement.
He was gonna kill both himself and Ayanokouji.
Ayanokouji's mind searched for escape routes.
Left, the surface was closing.
Right, veins were forming.
Above, the slide was gone.
Below, the trunk was shaping into a narrow channel that would crush anything inside it.
Shirou's eyes flicked to the forming wood.
He predicted the next movement.
Then he moved his arm.
The tree that pierced him shifted with his palm, turning from a weapon into a guide. It opened a gap, a thin corridor through the wood, just wide enough for one body to pass.
Not two.
Ayanokouji's eyes widened further.
Shirou looked at him.
For the first time since Ayanokouji surfaced, Shirou's expression softened. Not into mercy. Into something that belonged to the past.
Into something that belonged to two boys who had once shared the same air.
Shirou's lips moved again.
This time the words were clear.
"Let's consider it a tie."
Ayanokouji's throat tightened.
He had no mouth. No way to answer. The eyes on his face trembled.
Ayanokouji understood that shirou had spared him.
From realizing what Shirou had decided.
The White Room had never taught sacrifice.
It taught survival. It taught efficiency. It taught winning. It taught how to use people until there was nothing left of them.
Shirou's decision did not come from training.
It came from the part of him that had survived despite it.
The human part.
The part that remembered Ayanokouji.
Shirou pushed.
The wood shifted again, and Ayanokouji was redirected toward the gap. The tree's surface angled him into it with perfect timing, forcing him along a path that would carry him through.
Ayanokouji passed close enough to see Shirou's blood.
It ran down his stomach, dark and steady, soaking into the wood that had grown through him. Shirou's hands trembled now, not from fear, but from the strain of holding the tree in place.
His eyes stayed locked on Ayanokouji.
Ayanokouji moved through the corridor.
The wood scraped his sides. Veins snapped behind him, closing the path the moment he passed. The tree sealed like a mouth shutting, leaving Shirou on the wrong side of it.
Ayanokouji's body shot out of the trunk.
He stumbled onto the surface of the top again, sliding across dead wood. His cracked foot nearly gave out, but he caught himself. His eyes spun across the battlefield, searching.
The gap was gone.
The trunk below twisted.
Shirou was still there, pinned into the wood, half held up by the tree that had grown through him. Blood poured down the smooth surface in a thick line, staining it like paint.
Ayanokouji stared.
His eyes opened wider.
More eyes across his body fluttered, trying to open again, trying to slow time enough to fix this, enough to undo it. His head throbbed so hard the world threatened to blur.
There was nothing to fix.
Shirou's chest rose once.
Then again, weaker.
His gaze did not leave Ayanokouji.
Ayanokouji remembered the White Room.
The cold halls.
The tests.
The silence between lessons.
The way Shirou had once stood beside him, not as an ally, not as a rival, but as the only person who understood what it meant to be raised without a childhood.
He remembered every time they had looked at each other and said nothing, because nothing was allowed.
Shirou took a breath.
It was shallow.
His shoulders dropped a fraction.
His eyes finally blinked, slow and tired.
Then his body went still.
The tree held him for a moment longer.
Then it stopped moving too.
Ayanokouji stood at the top of the trunk, surrounded by dead forest and dead bodies, with eyes that could see everything.
He could not hear the world.
He could not speak.
He could not even feel his own hands.
Yet the emptiness in his chest was so heavy it felt like pain, even without pain.
Shirou had let him live.
Not because Ayanokouji won.
Not because Shirou lost.
Because Shirou decided one death was enough.
And in the end, that choice hurt more than anything the nightmare had done to him.
Ayanokouji thought.
'You truly are a wonderful human being, Shirou."
He fell back first onto the trunk.
'I survived, yet it feels like I lost. I lost myself in the White Room, but you found yourself. It's my defeat, Yet I must continue.'
'Luna. Luzi. Perla. Eichiro. Shirou.'
'Spell.'
Nothing actually happened, Ayanokouji thought. No way that he did all that for nothing.
He once again went through all the words that had been used by his friends.
And it finally opened when he thought of status.
shimmering runes appeared in the air in front of him.
***
Name: Kiyotaka.
True Name: —
Rank: Aspirant.
Soul Core: Dormant.
Memories: [Vow of Life & Death], [Whisper of Malice].
Echoes: —
Attributes: [Hated by Fate], [Seeker of Reflection], [Witness of Fate].
Aspect: [Fraudulent Penitent].
Aspect Rank: Dormant.
Aspect Description:
[A penitent is a sinner who kneels in regret and swears to change. A fraudulent penitent is the same, except your repentance is an act and your shame is a disguise. You do not seek redemption, only survival, and every vow you speak is another lie told with a steady voice.]
So this is what I had killed everyone for.
I had taken everyone's life for just some words floating in the air.
...
First thing my eyes went to was the memories, specifically [Vow of Life & Death.]
I tried to raise my right hand to tap that memory but it didn't raise.
I tried again, I felt no pain.
It's probably broken.
I tapped with my left hand instead.
And what came shocked me.
Memory: Vow of Life and Death
Memory Rank: Dormant
Memory Tier: V
Memory Type: Charm
Memory Trait: [Growth], [Soul-Bound]
Memory Description: [He was a King whose word was Law. When the Remorse Eater feasted on his pride, a sovereign was forced to crawl. This is his hollowed echo, a vow of blood and silence.
Shackled in a Dormant shell, the King's majesty drinks from your life to mend its broken divinity. It grows with your shadow, yet it offers no crown only a thousand eyes to watch your descent. To wield the King's gaze is to inherit his end, you shall hold the world in your sight, only to realize you no longer have hands to touch it.]
Memory Enhancement: [Crown of the Fallen King], [The Weight of a Promise], [Hundred-Eyed Gaze], [Tribute of the Martyr], [The King's Sustenance]
Can tier V be the lowest tier?...
No. Tier V could not be the lowest.
If the Great Spell had been lenient enough to grant even the weakest rank five enhancements, it would not have demanded the slaughter of everyone.
My body trembled atop the smooth trunk, the right hand and one leg useless, useless yet forced to bear me forward.
This is a memory of regret. How fitting that it comes now.
The rulers from Dry Water's memories flickered faintly in my mind.
Could this one have been among them? I dragged myself across the tree's surface, sliding my broken leg forward, muscles straining against gravity, the eyes on my body recording each twitch.
He may have crossed the river when it shrank to a stream, buried in mud, buffeted by wind that tore at his robes. A sovereign, humiliated by forces beyond his control.
My spine moved uncontrollably with each movement, though I could not feel the bones break beneath my touchless limbs.
Could he be the one who uttered that prophecy, the ruler of the largest village?
I pressed my face against the trunk, trying to steady myself, each motion wrenched by exhaustion, dehydration, and the weight of dozens of eyes crawling over my skin.
My rank is Aspirant. This memory is Dormant. Unless it is tied to my soul core… Then there are probably more soul cores beyond Dormant.
Vowalkers were also dormant. What will Remorse Eater be?
I forced the first enhancement. My dozen eyes burned, stabbing awareness into my skull. My body shivered violently, muscles quivering under the weight of broken bones.
I pushed myself upright, letting my broken leg drag and my useless hand dangle.
Memory Description: [Crown of the Fallen King: (Passive) The authority of a suppressed ruler dwells within. This Memory's logic is absolute, its effects cannot be suppressed by those of a lower Rank.]
This memory tells me that there are other memories that can suppress memories.
Memory Description: [The Weight of a Promise: (Active) The user surrenders four of his five sense for seven days. In exchange, the body is flooded with ancient vigor, granting either Enhanced Physical Strength or Speed.]
I froze.
My body shook violently.
Soul Bound trait...
The effect would follow me even if I returned to my original body.
My stomach became purple, My vision kept going up and down because of my uneven movements.
I leaned my broken leg forward, dragging it without sensation, knowing it could snap entirely.
A week. Seven days. Even after Dry Water left, his influence lingered.
Seven was already entwined with my suffering.
I crawled, sliding my useless hand along the smooth trunk, every inch forward a battle against gravity, exhaustion, and the dozen eyes recording every imperfection.
Memory Description: [Hundred-Eyed Gaze: (Active) Dozens of eyes manifest upon the user's flesh. You possess 360-degree vision. The more eyes that open, the slower the world moves.]
The eyes burned as they opened. Each blink pressed shards of awareness into my skull.
My broken limbs dragged along the surface of the trunk, my body trembling with fatigue.
Memory Description: [Tribute of the Martyr: (Passive) This Memory cannot be fueled by Soul Essence. Instead, it consumes the user's life force. Each day the Vow remains active, one month of the user's vitality is devoured, The more you activate this memory the more it eats away your vitality.]
I pressed my chest, Sadly I had lost the sensation of touch.
My broken leg dragged, leaving faint streaks on the smooth wood. My useless right hand swung as blood escaped it, irrelevant, but my eyes adjusted, seeing every tiny movement in slow motion.
The last enhancement. My body shook. Dying sooner. The first activation costs a month. The second… What? seven months?
Memory Description: [The King's Sustenance: (Passive) The user is sustained by the Memory and does not need to eat or breathe. However, if the user's vitality is depleted before the seven days end, the Vow will begin consuming the user's Internal Organs to maintain the Gaze.]
Each eye blinked independently. Tears streaked down my face, My body is letting tears out as an reflex.
My broken body could not feel the bark beneath me, yet every inch burned with effort.
My arms shook violently.
My legs quivered.
Even without feeling them, I could tell using the eyes on them.
Life slipped from me steadily, but I moved, inch by inch, dragging myself across the precarious trunk.
Could I transfer this memory like Shirou did with Eichiro?
The cost outweighed the benefit.
The truth of this Memory was a blade at my throat, cold, absolute, and unavoidable. And yet I moved.
***
It was about to be night soon.
Ayanokouji couldn't waste any more time staring at the runes. He had to move. He had to finish this nightmare today.
He got down from the trees, landing on his already broken hand and leg. Bones
probably fractured, maybe shattered.
Pain didn't matter anymore. Exhaustion, starvation, dehydration each sensation circled in his mind, mocking him.
He couldn't stand. Even without feeling pain, his body resisted. Everywhere he looked, the world spun in cruel spirals.
Tears or maybe something worse, sticky, strange escaped his eyes. Saliva? Puking through his eyes? He didn't care. He didn't question it.
A stick lay a few steps away. Crawling was agony, hand and leg dragging, scraping against the jagged earth.
Every movement tore his skin, but he reached it. He grabbed the stick, using it to rise.
Walking was a struggle, the broken leg lagging. His vision, panoramic and cursed, caught every corpse of a Vowalker.
Ayanokouji had destroyed the world after the lake. He had torn through life itself.
The leg faltered again. Could the man have returned? No. Impossible. Just a crack, a fracture. Pain had lost all meaning. He walked anyway.
He reached a stream.
His reflection struck him.
Cheeks hollowed, eyes bloodshot, skin glued to bone. He had fallen completely.
Tears streamed from his eyes. Rest was a luxury he no longer had. He couldn't stop.
Crossing the stream, he entered another ruined world. Hair clung to his face.
He walked, feeling the weight of nostalgia, yet this world had changed.
Not by fate, not by chance, but by him. The cracked terrain, faded yellow grass, all replaced by scars, craters, upheaval.
The land seemed violated. broken in impossible patterns. Some craters deep enough to bury a person upright, others shallow but spreading like ripples of old destruction.
He narrated the destruction anyway. It didn't matter. It never did.
The world had been used, bent into collapse. Their deaths had emptied it. And he had done it.
He hadn't intended destruction.
But he had destroyed.
Because the only way forward was through ruin.
That thought did not unsettle him. It did not comfort him. It simply existed.
The world behind him, the world beyond the river, all broken.
One untouched direction remained, beyond the nightmare. But for how long?
Every step he had taken was gone. The ground behind him decimated.
Landscapes burned under his gaze.
Wherever he went, destruction followed.
The weight of it pressed down on him. Probably, the world beyond would bear it next.
He could not walk further. One eye glanced back. His broken leg had caught in a crater.
He tried to free it, hand first, then stick, but the remnants of Vowalkers blocked him.
He fell headfirst into the crater, blood blurring his sight. He did not care. He rose again, stick planted firmly, and continued.
Searching for something sharp to cut off the leg or hand proved futile.
He walked. Alone.
Him and his stick against a ruined, dying world.
The well appeared, transformed.
A gargantuan tree grew from it, thousands of Vowalkers forming its roots. Light poured from its depths. Normally, he would narrate its scale, its grandeur. It didn't matter. It didn't.
At the tree's end sat a child. The Remorse Eater had taken form, the embodiment of everything Ayanokouji had fought and lost.
He instinctively crawled back, filling the tree with memories. Every eye caught a fragment.
First, him swimming down the lake as thousands of Vowalkers fell. He asked himself: does their death matter?
It don't.
He moved forward.
Perla, hostage after her teammate's death. Her tears. Her fear. Did they matter?
It don't.
He walked.
Two memories collided, confronting Eichiro, then killing him.
He paused, an echo of apology for Matsuo lingering.
His son's death. Did it matter?
It don't.
He moved.
Perla dead.
He did not stop.
Memories with Shirou.
His closest thing to a friend. Sacrificing himself, taking a theoretical draw.
Shirou pierced by the tree, blood flowing.
It did matter.
But it wasn't Remorse.
If needed, he would kill Shirou without hesitation again.
He walked.
Face to face with himself as a child. Does Ayanokouji's past matter?
It don't.
Everything that shaped him?
It don't.
The Remorse Eater. Cause of all suffering. Made him kill. Turned humans into Vowalkers. Ruined lives. Does it matter?
It don't.
Hatred?
Anger?
He fell. He struck the child with his stick.
The child cried, begged.
Kiyotaka no longer was Ayanokouji. The self had died. Only the will to win remained.
He kept hitting, memories flooding, each blow a declaration, it don't.
He struck one last time. The message came.
[You have slain an Awakened Terror, Remorse Eater.]
And the world dissapeared.
***
As Dry Water departed from Ayanokouji, he drifted into the void, slowly disappearing.
He called back the eyes that had been spying on them, using his powers.
Fifteen 𓁹𓁹 appeared. They widened as they witnessed how someone from Ayanokouji's past had perceived their existence.
Dry Water simply stared at them.
"Why are you prying into his past?" he asked, but no answer came.
He fell silent for a few moments, contemplating everything.
The void was filled with laughter as Dry Water spoke again.
"So this is it? You decided to recover his first nightmare using fifteen people, each carrying a fragment of his suffering? Suffering divided into fifteen parts, I see."
He scanned each of the eyes in turn.
"He is a demon, and his ending is already destined to be a tragedy."
Then he disappeared.
And the eyes were left to question everything.
*******
The chapter was so big webnovel didn't let me publish as one, Consider both as one charger.
So how was this nightmare?
Too big, Might have rushed the ending.
But wanted to get it over with.