Father did not understand.
He didn't want to understand.
Max isn't dead. He isn't dead. He is still there, trapped in that monster of a God.
And he is desperately calling out to me. So desperately.
I just know it. I really do.
I have to help him. I have to help Max. I have to. I know I have to. I know that he is waiting for me. He has even told me so, in my dream.
In my beautiful dream.
That dream comes every night, whenever I have cried myself into restless sleep.
A brand-new world always greets me, melting away all my pains and sorrows.
It is a different world with unending number of glimmering glass towers, reaching towards the sky and stretching beyond the horizon.
And despite the plethora of lights shinning onto the heaven above, countless majestic swirls of galaxies and uncalculatable number of stars could be seen.
It is just so beautiful. Beautiful beyond words.
Is this the future? My future?