Ch 46: What is this?

One morning, he was abruptly awakened by his little sister's persistent calls.

"Nash, wake up! Nash, wake up!" she urged, her small hands shaking him gently.

Nash groaned, trying to cling to the last remnants of sleep. "Just a moment..."

But his sister was insistent. "Nash, I said wake up!"

Sighing deeply, he finally opened his eyes, blinking against the morning light streaming through his bedroom window. He looked around, bewildered. "Huh, where am I? Am I back in my original world?"

His sister, noticing his dazed look, tilted her head with a mixture of concern and confusion. "Are you daydreaming or something?"

Overcome with emotion, Nash pulled her into a tight hug. "I missed you very much, little sister."

She squirmed a bit, clearly puzzled. "What's gotten into you? You're acting weird."

Nash smiled, a tear escaping from the corner of his eye. He was overwhelmed by the familiarity and the normalcy of it all. The warmth of his sister's hug, the smell of their home, the sound of distant chatter – everything felt surreal yet comforting. Just then, his mother's voice echoed from downstairs.

"Nash, get down here or you're going to be late for college!"

Nash replied with a cheerful, "Coming!" His heart was lighter than it had been in a long time.

His sister rolled her eyes. "See, you're going to be late, big brother."

They made their way downstairs, and Nash couldn't help but take in every detail of the sunny kitchen and his bustling family. The smell of freshly cooked breakfast wafted through the air, and he watched as his mother busied herself at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease. His father sat at the table, engrossed in the morning newspaper, occasionally sipping his coffee.

After hurriedly finishing his meal, Nash grabbed his backpack and headed out the door. He felt a sense of surreal joy as he walked through the familiar streets of the sunny city he called home. The air was crisp and cool, filled with the sounds of morning – birds chirping, distant car engines, and the murmur of people starting their day.

Once he reached the bus stop, he hopped on the bus, wearing his full college uniform. As he settled into a seat, he looked around, taking in the sights and sounds of people chatting, reading, or staring out of the windows. "Is it a dream?" he wondered, looking at the bustling scene around him. The hum of conversations and the gentle sway of the bus were grounding, yet he couldn't shake off the sense of unreality.

Nash stared out of the window, watching the city pass by. The buildings, the parks, the people – everything seemed both familiar and distant. It felt like he was seeing his world through new eyes. The bus ride was short, but it gave him enough time to reflect on his journey, the people he had met, and the battles he had fought.

As the bus pulled up to his college, Nash took a deep breath and stepped off. He walked through the gates, greeted by the familiar hustle and bustle of campus life. Students were everywhere – some rushing to their next class, others lounging on the grass, chatting with friends.

He entered his classroom and took his usual seat, trying to focus on the lecture. But his mind kept drifting back to the other world. He couldn't help but think about Sophie, Niya, and Sylvia. Were they okay? What were they doing now?

Nash pushed these thoughts aside and concentrated on his studies. The day went by in a blur of lectures and notes. By the time his classes were over, he felt a strange mix of nostalgia and longing. He decided to visit a nearby park, a place where he had spent many afternoons as a child.

As he walked through the park, the memories flooded back. He remembered playing games with his friends, the picnics with his family, the joy and laughter. He found a quiet bench under a large oak tree and sat down, letting the peaceful surroundings wash over him.

"Maybe this is where I belong," he thought, feeling a sense of peace. But deep down, he knew that the other world had changed him. It had given him purpose, strength, and connections that he couldn't ignore.

With a sigh, Nash opened his eyes and looked around. For now, he would cherish this time with his family, this return to normalcy. But he knew that someday, he might have to find a way back to the other world, to fulfill his destiny and protect the ones he cared about.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Nash stood up and started walking home, ready to embrace whatever came next.

As Nash walked through the front door of his home, the familiar warmth and comfort of the place enveloped him. The enticing aroma of dinner wafted through the air, making his stomach rumble. He kicked off his shoes and headed into the kitchen, where his family was already gathered around the dining table.

His mother was placing the final dish on the table – a steaming pot of stew that filled the room with its savory scent. His father sat at the head of the table, pouring himself a glass of water, while his little sister was busy setting out the plates and silverware.

Nash's sister, always quick with a tease, looked up and grinned as he walked in. "Well, look who finally decided to show up. Did you get lost on the way home, big brother?"

Nash chuckled, shaking his head as he took his seat. "No, I just took a little detour through the park. Needed some fresh air after a long day."

His sister gave him a sly look. "Sure, sure. Or maybe you were daydreaming about some girl from college?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, clearly enjoying her teasing.

Nash rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile. "No, nothing like that. Just thinking about... things."

His mother, noticing the banter, joined in with a warm smile. "Leave your brother alone, sweetheart. He's had a long day."

The family settled in to eat, the sound of clinking silverware and the murmur of conversation filling the room. Nash's father asked about his day, and they fell into an easy rhythm of sharing stories and laughter.

Nash's sister, never one to miss an opportunity to tease, piped up again as they were finishing their meal. "So, Nash, any exciting plans for the weekend? Or are you just going to spend it in your room, daydreaming?"

Nash leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Actually, I might head back to the park again. There's something peaceful about it."

His sister gave him a mock-serious look. "You're so mysterious lately. It's like you've got a whole secret life or something."

Nash laughed, but her words hit closer to the truth than she realized. "Maybe I do. Maybe I'm secretly a superhero or something," he said with a wink.

His mother shook her head, smiling. "Well, superhero or not, you're still our Nash. And we're glad to have you home."

As they cleared the table and did the dishes together, Nash felt a deep sense of contentment. Despite the teasing and the playful banter, he knew that this was where he belonged. For now, at least.

Later that night, as Nash lay in bed, he replayed the events of the day in his mind. The familiar routine, the comforting presence of his family, the lighthearted teasing – it all felt like a dream. He closed his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips, and drifted off to sleep with the sound of his sister's laughter still echoing in his ears.

As Nash was about to drift into sleep, a sudden, sharp noise jolted him awake. His mother's voice, usually so calm and soothing, was now filled with panic and confusion. "Who are you? Why are you in my home?"

Nash's heart pounded in his chest as he sat up, straining to hear more. The distress in his mother's voice sent a chill down his spine. Then, he heard a gut-wrenching scream, followed by a sickening sound that he could only describe as a sword piercing flesh. His mother's shout of pain tore through the night.

"What? What happened?" his father's voice called out, laced with confusion and fear. Another sickening sound followed, and then silence.

Nash's body moved before his mind could process what was happening. He bolted out of bed and rushed downstairs, the wooden steps creaking under his weight. As he reached the bottom, the sight before him made his blood run cold.

His little sister lay on the floor, her neck slashed open, blood pooling around her lifeless body. Her wide, unseeing eyes seemed to stare into nothingness, the spark of life extinguished in an instant. Nash's breath caught in his throat, a mixture of horror, grief, and rage flooding his senses.

Standing over her was a masked figure, dark and menacing, a blood-stained sword in its hand. The mask was expressionless, a cold, blank slate that seemed to mock the devastation it had caused. The figure's presence filled the room with an oppressive, malevolent energy.

Nash's eyes were drawn to the sword, still dripping with the blood of his family. It was a weapon of death, sharp and cruel, designed to end lives without mercy. The sight of it ignited a fire within Nash, a burning need for vengeance and justice.

"Why?" Nash choked out, his voice trembling with a mixture of sorrow and fury. "Why did you do this?"

The masked figure said nothing, its silence more chilling than any words could have been. It simply stood there, the sword hanging at its side, a silent testament to the horrors it had inflicted.

Tears streamed down Nash's face as he took in the scene. His mother and father lay motionless, their bodies a gruesome display of the violence that had ripped through their home. The pain was almost unbearable, a deep, aching wound that seemed to grow with every heartbeat.

Tears streamed down Nash's face as he took in the scene. His mother and father lay motionless, their bodies a gruesome display of the violence that had ripped through their home. The pain was almost unbearable, a deep, aching wound that seemed to grow with every heartbeat.

He fell to his knees, the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a physical force. "Why? Why? Why?" he cried out, his voice breaking with anguish. He clutched his head, his fingers digging into his scalp as if trying to hold his sanity together.

The room spun around him, the horrors of the night replaying in his mind in a relentless loop. Nash's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of what he had lost. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his body shaking with the force of his sorrow.

His vision blurred with tears, and a hollow, desperate laugh escaped his lips, tinged with a madness born of grief and despair. It was a laugh filled with sadness, echoing through the blood-stained room, a haunting sound that seemed to reverberate off the walls.

Nash cradled his sister's lifeless body in his arms, her once vibrant spirit now extinguished by the senseless violence that had torn through their home. He pressed her cold form close to his chest, as if trying to shield her from the cruelty of the world around them.

"Your brother is back, little sister," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with the blood that stained his hands and clothes. He brushed a lock of hair away from her face, his touch gentle and reverent.

"Don't leave me," he pleaded, his words barely more than a choked sob. He clung to her, unwilling to let go of the only family he had left in the world. In that moment, amidst the pain and despair, he felt a fierce determination welling up inside him.

With his sister's lifeless body laid gently on the bed, Nash felt a surge of rage and grief coursing through him like a raging inferno. His hands trembled with the weight of his emotions, his fingers curling into fists as he stared down the masked killer who had robbed him of everything he held dear.

"How does it feel to lose a family?" the masked figure taunted, its voice dripping with malice. Nash's laughter rang hollow in the air, a bitter echo of the pain that gnawed at his soul.

"Shut up," he spat, his voice low and dangerous. With a steely resolve, he summoned forth a powerful weapon—a red-black spear crackling with ominous energy. His eyes blazed with an unbridled fury as he faced off against the masked killer, his grip tightening on the hilt of his spear.

In that moment, Nash's entire being was consumed by a singular desire—to exact vengeance upon the one responsible for the devastation that had befallen his family. With a primal roar, he lunged forward, his spear poised to strike with lethal precision.

The clash of their weapons sent shockwaves rippling through the crumbling remains of the once peaceful home, each strike echoing with the intensity of Nash's fury. With a primal roar, he lunged forward, his spear slicing through the air with deadly precision.

But the masked figure was quick to react, effortlessly parrying Nash's attack with a swift movement of its own weapon. The force of the impact sent tremors racing through the ground, causing the already unstable structure to tremble and groan under the strain.

Nash's face contorted with rage as he stared down his adversary, his eyes burning with an unyielding determination. Despite the chaos that surrounded them, he remained focused on the task at hand, his mind consumed by thoughts of vengeance and retribution.

"You're too weak," the masked man taunted, its voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. But Nash paid no heed to its words, his resolve unshaken even in the face of overwhelming adversity. With a fierce battle cry, he launched himself once more into the fray, determined to emerge victorious no matter the cost.

The air crackled with tension as Nash and the masked assailant clashed, their movements a blur of speed and precision. With each strike, the ground trembled beneath them, the sheer force of their blows sending shockwaves racing through the earth.

Nash's spear sliced through the air like a blade of darkness, leaving behind a trail of swirling energy in its wake. The masked man dodged with lightning-fast reflexes, narrowly avoiding the deadly attack.

As they continued to battle, their movements became a dance of death, each parry and thrust executed with flawless precision. The ground beneath them groaned and heaved, unable to withstand the ferocity of their combat.

With each collision, sparks flew, casting eerie shadows across the desolate landscape. The air hummed with the sound of clashing metal, the echo of their struggle reverberating through the night.

But despite the intensity of their fight, neither combatant showed any signs of slowing. Their movements were fluid and relentless, each one calculated to outmaneuver the other.

And then, in a burst of speed, Nash unleashed a powerful flick of his spear, sending a wave of dark energy slicing through the ground. The masked man dodged with a hair's breadth to spare, his movements as graceful as they were deadly.

"That was close," the masked man remarked, his voice dripping with malice. But Nash paid him no mind, his focus locked entirely on the battle raging before him. With renewed determination, he pressed on, his resolve unyielding in the face of his adversary's taunts.

The clash of their energies sent shockwaves rippling through the air, the collision creating a momentary vortex of power that seemed to distort the very fabric of reality. Nash's spear flicked with unparalleled force, sending forth a wave of dark energy that crackled with intensity. In response, the masked man unleashed a crimson shockwave from his sword, the energy pulsating with malevolent power.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as their opposing forces met in a dazzling display of raw power. The air hummed with the sheer force of their collision, the ground beneath them quivering with the strain of their battle.

But then, with a resounding crack, Nash's energy wave surged forward, overpowering the masked man's attack with its sheer ferocity. The crimson shockwave faltered, its intensity waning in the face of Nash's relentless assault.

In a flash of light and sound, the masked man's form was engulfed by Nash's energy, his body torn asunder by the sheer force of the impact. As the dust settled, Nash stood victorious, his chest heaving with exertion as he gazed upon the fallen figure before him.

"That's impossible," the masked man gasped, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to comprehend his defeat. But Nash paid him no mind, his focus consumed by the aftermath of their battle and the realization of the power he held within him.