the world that's a mixture

In the dim light, a boy of about fifteen or sixteen stood in the middle of the room. The space was shrouded in darkness, and the scene before him was more terrifying than anyone could have imagined.

The room ,which seem to be once in a perfect condition ,was now drenched with blood dead bodies were lying here and there as if they were nothing but trash lying around.Dead bodies lay scattered around, each brutally murdered with a knife in a manner that suggested the work of someone with great experience.

The boy standing in the middle of the room looked utterly shocked. His face was a mask of horror, as if he couldn't comprehend what had just happened. His wide eyes and slackened jaw conveyed a deep sense of disbelief, as though his mind was struggling to accept the reality before him.

"No, no, this can't be real! I didn't do this—I could never do this! Please, wake up, Mother! Father! Please, tell me this is just a nightmare, and I'll wake up any moment!"

In that very moment, he felt a sharp surge of pain deep in his stomach, At first, the pain was just a dull ache, but it quickly intensified, growing so excruciating that it became unbearable and everything went blank, as if his entire world was spinning out of control.

"No, no, this can't be real! I didn't do this—I could never do this! Please, wake up, Mother! Father! Please, tell me this is just a nightmare, and I'll wake up any moment!"

"In that very moment, he felt a sharp surge of pain deep in his stomach, At first, the pain was just a dull ache, but it quickly intensified, growing so excruciating that it became unbearableand everything went blank, as if his entire world was spinning out of control."

A new place

The room was a cozy haven in the heart of the countryside, bathed in the soft, golden light of late afternoon. Warm wooden beams crossed the ceiling, their rich tones complementing the earthy hues of the stone fireplace that crackled with a gentle fire. Plush, overstuffed chairs and a well-worn sofa invited relaxation, their cushions covered in faded floral patterns that spoke of comfort and home.

The scent of freshly baked bread and herbs mingled with the faint aroma of lavender from a vase on the windowsill, creating a pleasantly soothing atmosphere. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, casting delicate patterns on the hardwood floor, while the gentle creak of the wooden floorboards and the distant hum of bees from the garden added to the room's rustic charm. A few well-loved books lay scattered on a small table, their pages slightly yellowed, adding to the sense of timeless warmth that filled the space.

In the center of the room, there was a crib with two people standing beside it. They looked warm and friendly, their eyes filled with tenderness as they gazed down at the baby in the crib.

The newborn baby opened his eyes, his tiny face filled with wonder. He gazed around, astonished by his unfamiliar surroundings. Where am I? Why am I here? And who are these people around me?

He looked up at the people gazing down at him, realizing they seemed to be a couple

The couple looked at the baby warmly, calling to him with such tenderness, as if they were speaking to their own child

They were speaking in a different language, yet somehow he understood what they were saying. They called out a name, and at first, he wondered who they were talking about. But then, with a jolt of realization, he understood—they were talking to him, addressing him by a strange, new name.

"Lior walker"