It happened quickly. Ethan felt something was wrong. Terribly wrong. His breathing accelerated, his heart rate was through the roof, beads of sweat formed all around his body, and a sense of urgency took hold.
In the air, he wondered what it was. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. It had just been moments since he flew into the air, he had pushed past the eighth and seventh shadow... So what was it?
He felt... hot. Extremely hot, and at the same time, he felt cold. There was a burning sensation somewhere in his body, and the rest was beginning to feel cold. Eventually, his instincts took over, and his brain stopped thinking for a brief moment.
He did as he had been trained to do, his Ki swept all through his body, trying to figure out the abnormality, and it did.
"When...?"
A confused gasp escaped his mouth, followed by a scream. A bloodcurdling scream full of pain and agony. The cry of a kid exposed to too much pain, pain he wasn't ready for.
Ethan Rakaru plummeted into the ground, towards the sixth platform, where he saw the perpetrator. The one who had cut his legs off from the knees. In a final act of defense, his Ki stopped his bleeding and gathered around his head to protect it.
Ethan fell headfirst into the sixth platform, and although his Ki had managed to save him from the worst, it wasn't perfect. A river of blood descended from his head, dyeing his beautiful golden hair scarlet and clouding his vision. He had split his skull.
In a world of red, Ethan finally saw who it was, the shadow who had dared to cut his legs off... and he recognized him.
More accurately, he recognized the stance of the shadow and the sword he wielded. He knew that stance and that sword. He could never forget it, never in his life.
For it was his own, the sword stance, one that prioritized speed and perfection over everything else. A sword style that he had honed for the last ten years, a sword that he had been taught by none other than his Grandfather.
"Grandpa...?"
He called out, dismissing the pain for a moment to call out to family, but alas, family did not answer. The injury to his head had caused him to forget his situation.
"Grandpa, I'm not the ene-"
A flash occurred, as Ethan's arms went flying, and a confused scream was let loose, as Ethan finally snapped out of it. The Shadow stepped closer, and he could hear a woman laughing in the distance.
Now, Ethan finally realized why these shadows felt familiar. Why did everything feel familiar? It only took the ruined visage of his grandfather slicing his body apart to notice.
He had seen these guys before, in a book, in portraits. He knew who these Shadows were.
The eleventh shadow, he who wielded a strange pair of swords, The Fourth Head of the Rakaru Family, Eliott Rakaru, The Drunken Genius.
The Tenth Shadow, He who wielded a gigantic axe, the third head of the Rakaru Family, Brutus Rakaru, The Mountain Cleaver.
The Ninth shadow, he who wielded a set of daggers, The Seventh Head of the Rakaru Family, Thomas Rakaru, Nightcrawler.
And the Sixth shadow, He who had abstained from the invasions, and led the Rakaru family to an era of peace, Wilson Rakaru, the Peacemaker, and Ethan's Grandfather.
The sixth shadow stepped forward, swinging his sword in a perfect arc, Pain had overtaken Ethan's mind, and he didn't know what to do. Scream in pain or beg his Grandpa for mercy? What would even work?
His brain shut down, the splitting of his skull, and the excessive loss of blood from his limbs that his Ki failed to stop.
However, even in that state, Ethan Rakaru reacted to the blade. His body moved, stemming not from his will to survive, but rather the hell he had endured for years... under his Grandfather. His Tutelage.
His body knew where that sword would go, how it would cleave through the air to its target. It was muscle memory. The Head moved, the mouth opened, and he caught the steel with his teeth.
Or at the very least, attempted to. No human teeth could catch steel swung with such force, such speed, such precision. It failed to even delay it.
Ethan's head flew into the air, half it, split from his upper jaw. It dropped to the Abyss of the strange Realm, and the body on top of the pillar fell to floor. Lifeless.
The laughter of a woman was the last thing Ethan heard, and then.
He was back, He was back in a world of white underneath him, a cold world where snow never stopped falling. The coming of a blizzard, and he was alone.
Alone in the very clearing he had found himself the moment he came to this continent, the start of it all. The cold, cold clearing where he had fought for his life.
He didn't speak, he didn't scream, stuck in a strange daze, he grasped his shoulders, his arms, and then his knees. They were there, unlike moments before.
Ethan Rakaru then crumbled, not physically, like last time, but mentally. He was still awake, but his mind had been overpowered.
After all, it didn't matter how much training he had undergone, for nothing could compare to this. It didn't matter what he was supposed to be ready for, for this was never a scenario anyone would think of. The defenses Ethan had set up the moment he arrived on this continent crumbled.
After all, it didn't matter how tough he appeared to be outside. Inside, he was paranoid, he was scared, he was hungry, he was suspicious of everything.
In the end, he was still an eighteen-year-old kid, one who had gone through the most bizarre events of his life.
"TIRMI, Slow down a little!"
He didn't hear the voice in the distance, and he didn't notice the piles of snow covering his body, threatening to bury him. He didn't feel the cold. He didn't notice the approach of a young beast.
His mind simply registered nothing. His instincts simply shut off.