Cacotopia of Dawn

---

Oisin never cried.

That was a lie. He cried a lot, but nobody ever saw him crying, so he never cried.

---

Sitting amidst a broken pile of metal, which seemed to be the remnants of a building from years ago, Oisin attempted to recollect what his past had been like. He gazed upward, greeted only by the same crimson sky that had replaced the sun with a dark void.

"So annoying. Couldn't you just disappear like you appeared... without a hint...?" he thought to himself and then realized how foolish he just sounded. But he had to keep talking, or he might lose his sanity. It had been months since he had last seen a living person, after all. His own parents, his two siblings, and his dear best friend...

"Argh! Get out, demon!" Oisin scolded himself. To him, the demon was the thoughts that could weaken him or perhaps hinder his path.

He stood up again.

It was the beginning of a new day, although there had only been a dawn for the past two years. Oisin moved forward, refreshed to some extent, even though he was thirsty, hungry, and so much more. Yesterday, he had encountered a Phantom, but he managed to escape. Still surprised by his luck, he hoped for today to be just as lucky. In the past two years, he had encountered only four Phantoms, barely surviving each of the encounters.

True, he was lucky, or so he thought. Why else would he be alive when everybody else had perished? He was supposed to die as well, but he had woken up in the end. Why?

"The intrusive thoughts again... So annoying," he scolded his mind once more, pulling a bag from his back.

Unlocking the chains, he discovered a couple of biscuit packets. That should sustain him for the day, right? In any case, that was Oisin's life now: Find food, eat, stay alert for any signs of Phantom arrivals, sleep, and repeat.

There wasn't much more to do, except, of course, to find a corner sometimes and cry.

"How long... how much more," he wondered sometimes. "What's the point of my living?"

Yet he lived, without a real purpose. It was astonishing. In a shattered world where humanity had fallen into a deep slumber, he survived. He survived through that hell, through that apocalypse.

That very night, when earthquakes and terrible meteors fell upon his city, a Phantom had attacked as well. It had killed everyone he knew.

It should have killed him too. Perhaps he had hidden somewhere? Perhaps.

His memory served him perfectly actually. He knew that the truth was that the Phantom, in fact, struck him. He refused to believe that, though. Because he was realistic. And that was unrealistic. But what was realistic anymore?

How ironic. For whatever reason, he had lived on, escaping the city engulfed in red flames, running through the town as he watched the sky fall. He witnessed the sky falling down, and then, he witnessed a new layer of sky emerging above. And he witnessed... He witnessed how the sun lost its light and turned into a dark yet radiant void.

It was like a permanent solar eclipse, or so it seemed, at least.

And thus, a dawn came to be that night. A dawn that never ended again.

Oisin used to love dawns, but he had grown to hate it so quickly from that day. The hate still burned inside him, consuming him. If he could eat the skies, he would. But such dreams were meant to remain as they were, as dreams.

Oisin finished eating those biscuits. The last thing he needed to survive in this hell was water, which seemed scarcer than anything else. The last time he found water was in a muddy puddle. Although the water appeared relatively clear, there wasn't much. He barely filled his bottle and had to ration it for the next two days.

Now, taking the last sip from his bottle, even that was gone.

"Huh... am I going to die soon? Nah... I'd rather live in fire than dying... uh. On second thought, scratch that-"

Perhaps Oisin was truly losing his sanity these days, as expected.

He continued his solitary walk through the eerie crimson landscape crossing lands bearing symbols of once great human civilisation. All they did, sought and cried for... had been buried. It was all futile at the end.

Yet Oisin, he was hoping for one thing: to encounter another survivor. There had to be some others left like him.

"There has to be... right? The last one I found was seven months ago," Oisin recalled when he had discovered an old man crying beside a lifeless body.

"How bizarre!" he thought, seeing the man.

Initially, Oisin had mistaken the man for a Phantom, but he soon realized that he was approaching another human. Overjoyed, he had run toward the old man.

But his joy was short-lived.

The old man, perhaps unaware that Oisin was human, had stabbed himself... and died.

Oisin had only witnessed that act. Why would he do that? Did he lose his sanity, or was he so certain that he would die anyway? Or maybe he simply wanted to die near the dead body. In any case, that event had etched itself into Oisin's memory, a moment he would never forget.

---

Walking through the lands, he passed a few more hours. It was like every other day for the past few years. The true reason he was alive was perhaps his fear of dying, a fear that kept him trudging on. He lived, just barely, barely finding something edible after an entire day of searching everyday. He barely discovered a pouch of water, spilling out from a hidden source, a sight nothing short of a miracle. And amid the constant fear of facing his demise the next day, he carried on in this desolate, abandoned world.

Still walking, his face downcast, Oisin wandered with a mind left blank. Occasionally, he glanced to the sides, searching for any signs of hope or change, but it hardly ever resulted in anything satisfactory.

However, this day was fateful. Under the crimson red sky and with the overcast weather casting an eerie glow, Oisin continued his solitary journey. Whether guided by intuition or perhaps the hand of fate itself, he found himself looking up ahead and was astonished by what he saw – a gleaming, white tower in the distance.

"What the hell is that...?" he thought, his curiosity piqued.

A tower, still standing tall after the cataclysmic apocalypse, was a concept so ridiculous that it briefly stunned him. Oisin decided to change his course and head towards it. For the first time in two long years, a glimmer of hope kindled within him.

"So, survivors indeed survived and built a sanctuary there..." he hoped fervently. "Will they welcome me?"

Subconsciously, he quickened his pace. Although he was hesitant to reveal his emotions, and he may have even forgotten how to express them, he couldn't help the emotions welling up within him. He was on the verge of tears.

For Oisin, that distant tower symbolized a final glimmer of hope amidst the hopelessness of his existence.

He had endured two years of unbearable torment and was desperate for a change. Perhaps he had paid for his sins and this was the path to redemption, or perhaps he was heading toward a new, unimaginable hell.

Truthfully, he no longer cared. Bathed in his own tears, he moved onward with an ardent determination. He moved forward, not knowing what may lay ahead, but actually certain that it was... the beginning of a grand adventure.

With the tower as his sole point of interest, Oisin's journey had been devoid of other excitement or surprises. The wasteland he passed through remained as desolate as ever, its crimson hues clinging to the broken remnants of a world that had once thrived. Hunger and thirst started to gnaw at him, yet he pressed on.

After hours of walking, the tower loomed closer, a shimmering beacon of hope in the midst of the apocalypse. The ground seemed to grow more uneven beneath his feet, as if nature itself recognized the significance of this structure. Despite the aching in his legs and the gnawing emptiness in his belly, he was determined to reach the tower.

Around then, he realized something. It was never a tower to begin with, the structure or whatever it was, was a giant mixture of waves... or.. energies? That somehow gathered there.

But the other discovery overshadowed his unpleasant sight. There were camps and fences underneath the tower. Or whatever it was...

That only proved, humans live there... or perhaps lived. Otherwise who would do that? Phantoms create fences to save themselves from humans? Hilarious.

Within only another half an hour of journey, he was very close to his destination. As his black robe swiftly flew with a rare gentle breeze that passed suddenly, he heard something he longed long for.

A human voice.

"Hey! Who are you!?" someone called from his sides.

He shouted in that direction, not even seeing who was calling him. "I waited two years in hell for you!"

He was so overjoyed by this voice that what he actually said simply passed by his ears as he comprehended nothing of it.

"Who the hell are you!?"