Meanwhile, in the seventh world

"In the darkness we rise, in the darkness we live. We are one, and we are all. We are "unity".

Soldiers of the time, preachers of the dead, dancers in the ashes, wind in the forest. We are "unity".

Do you hear the screams of joy of children in the morning? Do you hear the cries of the mothers in the evening? Do you hear the fear, the joy, and the sorrow? Because we are "unity".

Do not worry my friend, as you are a part of us. We are all a part of us. You are a drop in this ocean of blood, a pearl in the sea of tears, and a breath in the storm.

And we love you. We love ourselves."

The man took his head in his hands and started to laugh maniacally. His noise echoed in the vast plain in front of him covered in corpses of his former comrades. He stood up and hopped in the middle of the cadavers, his laughter only increasing. 

His eyes were blue, yet, they were darker than the eyes of everyone else alive on this earth. The helmet on his head was broken and falling to the side, the man has been lucky today. The bullet passed inside the metal and didn't touch his skull. He continued to keep his head firmly, almost in an attempt to reassure himself and be sure that his full face was still here. Laughing a bit more at each step he took. 

And the voices in his head were singing in a blood litany, "We are dark and light, we are the night and the day. We are "unity"." 

The man stumbled on an arm, he fell to the floor face to face with the dead body. His eyes sparkled and he screamed in joy, "Erik!!! Buddy!"

He jumped to his feet and grabbed the body of the dead man, he held him tight and started to dance on a melody he was the only one to be able to hear. 

His laughter could not be more hysterical. The war that happened here has been more cruel than any other. There were no words to describe this butchery. Canons had been raging for a week, and the blood of the allies and enemies was mixed with the ground in a kind of dirty and stinky mud. The man was sliding with his friend as he was spinning and twirling happily. 

Rifles spit their death wishes, bullets pierced the bodies, and the soldiers quickly learned that there were no bad or good. There were only pawns in this dramatic piece of theater. 

Most of them had lost reason, it was already too late. Nobody could run away, in the fear of being killed, they have been told to win to survive, but in the end, no one spared no one.

Except for him, he had survived. He passed out, knocked unconscious when the bullet transpierced his helmet. The noise, the impact, and the adrenaline had a reason for him and for some unknown reason, it was what saved him. 

He was happier than he should have been. The horror of the situation was not obvious to him at this moment. He was alone on the battlefield, the vehicles had been destroyed. The bridge that led to this village, witness of this bloody exchange, has collapsed. 

The only path to civilization was by the swamp and the dark humid and cold forest after it. The man was laughing, always laughing, always more. Fate has been cruel to him, he survived a quick death only to struggle and die from cold or hunger later. 

One could say the hope was what kept him going as he threw the body of his friend to the floor to run into the swamps, it was none of this. The derealisation of the recent events, and the depersonalization were the reasons. 

The man laughed when the vegetation rolled around his waist. He chuckled when he walked through the swamp with the night falling. He breathed hard when the biting cold started to freeze the surface of the water. 

He yelled when he realized his legs were not responding anymore and that he was trapped, waiting for his death. Then, the man cried, when he remembered the name of the beloved he would never see again. He cried for the future he would never have, and his laughter mixed with his loud sobbing. 

The man had lost his mind for a long time already. He did try to free himself for sure but he was out of force due to his wounds and shocks. The man started to sing, it was something like "This morning, a rabbit had killed a hunter. It was a rabbit who had a rifle," following the "HA HA HA HA '' of his dementia laughter. 

The man opened the pocket of his military jacket and took out a cigarette from it. He then grabbed a lighter from his other pocket and tried to light it. Unfortunately, there was no flame to help him. He decided not to care, the man acted like the cigarette was lightened and smoked it while off. He laughed while he was simulating.

"HA HA HA HA HA" His loud laughter resonated in the forest. 

"HA HA HA HA HA" And its intensity increased. 

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA" He was hysterical, breathing through the extinct cigarette, he suddenly took his helmet with his free hand and tried to punch the herbs of the swamp that rolled around his ankles and waist. 

And in the deep of the night, after every limb of his body became numb, the man heard a noise in the black forest in front of him. He stopped to laugh, and with a reflex of the soldier he was, he tried to tighten his fists in front of him in a defensive stance. He was ready for another fight to come, even doomed and half-dead. The man was a soldier before everything. 

When suddenly, out of darkness, a flame appeared and lightened his cigarette. The man took a puff and saw the figure of a man squatting in front of him. Squatting in front of him, over the water, on the swamp. 

The man chuckled, "For sure you don't get wet, you."

The shadow took a step forward and the man saw the face of a creepy smiling old man with white long hair and long fangs, "Oh, you will be perfect for the revolution," he said, hissing.

"Are you a member of the resistance?" The man asked.

"I am not a member of anything, we are. We are everyone and everything. We are perfect, they only don't know it yet, and you, my pretty boy, you will be part of us."

The man realized that the old guy in front of him was not a member of the revolution, the war ongoing, or the resistance. It was something else. He started to laugh again frenetically. 

"You are a part of me! You are in my mind! HA HA HA! I am dying!"

The old man moved a hand and the laughing one was taken out of the water. He was taken magically to the firm floor and heard the weird voice of the strange old man, "Follow me, little one."

The man stood up, he tried to walk but he could not move his limbs properly and fell a few times, provoking him and the old man to laugh together. He came back to his happy singing between two puffs of the cigarette, "This morning, a rabbit had killed a hunter. It was a rabbit who had a rifle."

And the old man repeated the same sentence with him in the same rhythm. Together laughing joyfully and walking into the deepest darkness of the forest until they reached an old and abandoned-looking manor. The man followed without asking any questions, he was sure he was already dead. 

"Am I in hell?" He asked, amused, "This doesn't look like hell."

The old one didn't take the time to answer, he pushed the doors of the manor and the luxurious inside appeared to the overjoyed eyes of the young man, but what made him even happier was to see three gorgeous girls in transparent black embroidered dresses running to the old man to embrace him.

"Master! We were so worried!"

"Do not leave us again."

"We thought you left us!"

They complained, weeping, before they noticed the young man full of mud and blood. The old one kissed them one after the other and ordered, "Give this man a bath, food, fresh clothes, and a drink."

Then he turned to him with the creepy, too-large smile he had the first time.

"We have a rabbit who killed a hunter with us now."

The young man laughed loudly, no one could say if he were conscious of what was happening around him and that he just entered a vampire nest. He placed a hand over his trousers and yelled, "I am a rabbit! With two eggs, my ladies!!!"

The man was not dead yet, but he had no idea about this.