Who?

The cave shakes violently, sending tremors through the ground as more and more grotesque creatures pour in, piling up on top of each other in a chaotic frenzy. Their deformed bodies, reeking of rot, writhe and gnash at each other, biting into decaying flesh, only to be torn apart by others more vicious. A cacophony of shrieks fills the air, one in particular—"oEuguheugougeeeiiiKKK"—a high-pitched wail like nails scraping against a glass wall. The beast's broken jaw slams repeatedly into the ice dome protecting Cora and the others, cracking its teeth as it desperately gnaws, trying to breach the barrier.

Ryua's body shakes in sync with the cave, her mind spinning in a storm of disoriented thoughts. 'I didn't... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...' The voices in her head grow louder, overlapping, attacking her from all directions, each one clawing at her consciousness, tearing away her focus. 'No, I—' She grits her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut, but the pain inside only intensifies. Her vision blurs, and everything feels wrong, twisted.

POW!

Suddenly, her cheek stings as if slapped. Her hand flies to her face in confusion. "W-What?" she stammers, blinking wildly, her vision settling on a figure—blindingly white but dim enough not to burn her eyes. It stands taller than her, its form humanoid but featureless, like an outline drawn in light. It watches her with an exasperated posture, crossing its arms as if fed up.

"Hey, will you get a fucking grip, you pathetic woman?" The voice, sharp and mocking, rings out.

Ryua blinks, still dazed. "What are you?" she asks, falling back, her wide, trembling eyes fixed on the silhouette.

The figure sighs loudly, like it's tired of explaining things. "Seriously, how stupid can you get? If you don't know what I am, how the hell should I know? I'm literally a part of you. God, you're dense. Look at you, letting all this shit happen, sitting there like some helpless idiot." It waves its arms in a frustrated gesture, looking at the chaos around them. "Just grab the damn sword I gave you and slice them up."

"Sword you gave me..." Ryua mumbles, her voice faint, her mind grasping at fragments. "Kael... Kael, did you...?" She touches her eye, feeling an agonizing pulse of pain shoot through it. "No, no... I can't—" She hyperventilates, the voices in her head growing louder, overlapping once again:

"You monster!"

"My baby! How could you do this?!"

"Evil! You're a heartless killer!"

"Murderer!"

POW!

Another slap. This time harder, jerking her back to the present. "For fuck's sake, stop acting like a child." The figure crouches down, jabbing its finger into her stomach. "Pick up the sword, or you're going to die, retard."

Ryua doubles over in pain, gasping. "Y-You do it. I... I can't..." She shakes her head violently, her voice trembling. "I'm too weak. You're stronger than me, you handle it..."

The figure lets out an exasperated groan and stands up, walking toward the dome where the monsters are tearing at the ice. "Listen, genius," it says, waving a hand dismissively, "if I could do shit, I would've done it already. But guess what? I can't. You created me, remember?" It turns, its hand passing through one of the monsters, proving its point. "See? I'm not real. I mean, I am real to you, but only to you. I'm basically your version of Kael, the one you've built up in that head of yours. I act how you think he would act. I exist because you made me, like an imaginary friend, except way cooler and more annoyed."

Ryua stares in disbelief, her exhaustion making it hard to follow. "No... that doesn't make any sense. How could I create you? How—" She rubs her face, trying to make sense of it. "You said you gave me the sword... You... You can't be... No, you're not..."

The figure rolls its eyes, "Ugh, here we go with the 'sense' talk. You're in a literal death cave, being attacked by monsters made of sludge, and you want things to make sense? Sure, let's go with that. Here's the deal: You made me because your brain's doing its usual overcomplicated shit. I'm a projection of how you see Kael. I'm not actually Kael. And as for the slaps? Yeah, you feel them because your dumbass believes I'm real enough to hurt you." It throws its hands up, like it's tired of even explaining. "But let's skip that part, it's not important."

POW!

Another slap. "Focus! Pick up that sword! You're letting all this noise—those voices—control you. Do you even get what's happening right now? Those monsters outside? They're too busy gnawing on the dome to notice you. But if you don't stop moping, they'll get inside, and you'll all be dead. Remember what he said?" The figure's voice shifts, suddenly mimicking Kael's, cold and sharp: "Do you think that's going to change the past? To change the fact that you sliced through thousands without a second thought?"

Ryua flinches, the silence stretching between them. The figure crouches back down, eyeing her with a smirk, its voice dropping to a whisper. "You're stubborn, you know that? You think you're leaving a 'good impression' by refusing to act, but trust me, Kael would hate that shit. I hate it, and I'm based on your image of him. So, think about it: Why would he admire something like this? Get your ass up and stop being so stubborn you can't even understand what you've created."

The figure's words feel like a blur, a jumbled mess of logic and confusion. "I... created... you?" Ryua mutters, still too disoriented to piece together the full meaning. She stares at the silhouette with wide eyes, as if hoping it'll start making sense. "What... does that even mean...?"

The figure lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Forget about understanding me, you blockhead. That's your problem—you overthink. You created me because you're trapped in your own mental bullshit. Now, are you gonna keep questioning reality, or are you gonna pick up that sword and save yourself?"