When you are at one of two extreme points, somehow, you see that things are not as clear cut as you think they would.

Ice burns.

Light blinds.

And the End...

bears the Beginning.

--

At the beginning, there was only darkness. Darkness so thick it cut. There was no concept of space, neither was of time. However, one could not help but get the notion of moving. Putting one leg in front of the other, again, and again. Yet, the solid ground was only metaphorical. For in this World without a thing, even nothingness did not exist.

And in that realm that was neither here, nor there,

neither now, nor whenever,

specks of light started to burn. Small at first, but then they grew. The distance between them ceased as they continued to grow.

They grew, and grew. Overlapping with each other. Spreading fast, reaching new limits. Introducing boundaries. Again, and again.

Until the darkness was engulfed in light. And the World came to be.

--

The first thing that registers in his mind is: suffocation. The feeling is akin to being forced into an extremely flexible, yet quite sturdy, rubber suit that is the size of a newborn child. He knows his eyes are open, but the lack—or rather, inexistence—of visibility serves no difference. He even feels like an additional eyelid is stuck onto his eyes, obscuring them.

The weird thing is, he feels calm. Not serene or peaceful, or even lifeless, but just... calm. He even begins to wonder if everything that has happened in his long seventeen years on Earth is a lie. Or if he has been alive. All those investigations, inventions, wisdom. All those people, places, events. All those moments.

Were they real? Did they happen?

What is life?

Are they only a mirage of what was in the past, what will be in the future, or even anything at all?

And when more questions pop up in his mind, the surreality of his condition starts to wear off. The feeling of floating in nothingness is replaced by a surface under his feet. The sensation of being compressed into an unbelievably minuscule container fades, and he can stretch his limbs, move about in this unfamiliar environment.

That is when he starts to feel panic. Because he still can't see a thing, and not being able to see equals unknowing. For someone who has been running around the Great Land to upturn each and every pebble on the road, jaunting the Great Water to uninhabited lands, and digging old graves to scavenge relics of the past, unknowing is an unacceptable state. His mind is like stomach that has not been fed, screaming for things—anything—to digest.

He pushes his legs to run, even though he has no idea where he is heading, or if there is any heading to head to.

I think I'm going crazy, he muses.

Am I dreaming? No... dream is just a way of mind to sift through events.

"I always know when I'm dreaming, and I'm pretty certain this is not a dream. I've somehow got transported out of... where was I? Ah, the workshop. And this isn't just my mind. I'm here with my body, flesh and bone. I'm in no pain, so whoever—whatever—took me out here, isn't going to hurt me. I think I'm still wearing my clothes, too, so I'm not here for humiliation. But I'm not getting any nearer to any sort of conclusion as to what this place is, or who transported me, or why I'm even here. And the biggest question is, how...? Teleportation magic? Who is strong enough to teleport matter, and as complicated as a human body complete with the blood and soul? And to break my barrier unnoticed—"

"Quit muttering to yourself, you some person I don't know!" a voice shouts, a feminine one, but sounds quite rough, effectively cutting him off. He bites his tongue in shock, but fortunately not too hard.

There is someone in here besides himself? A human?

"Who are you?" he asks.

But, a different voice answers,

"My... I thought my hardcore fans might be behind this, but now I see that's not the case." The voice is soft and nice to the ears. Like the voice of someone who sings on a professional level.

"Where are we?" he asks again, more strongly. "And how many people are in here?" He doesn't even know if 'here' is the correct word, as he feels the air around him undefinable. Didn't he just run? But somehow he feels like he hasn't got anywhere. Not to mention this darkness.

"Gentlemen," a lively voice speaks up.

"I'm a Lady!" says the female voice.

"Oh, sorry. Lady and gentlemen, do you reckon how long we've been here?"

The second voice says, "A long time... I think. But it doesn't feel that long. Maybe not even a second."

"What is this place?" he demands.

"I'm dying to know about that, too," the lively voice says.

"What about we introduce ourselves? It's hard conversing when I don't know who I'm talking to," the singer voice says. "And if you can tell me names that are not in my memory already, I can make sure that I'm not being imprisoned in my own mind."

"That sounds roundabout," the female voice remarks.

"How can I know that you are not a Devil sent to curse me by having me telling you my name?" he says suspiciously. He has read records of curses being sent by means of mentioning one's name.

"Oh, boy..." the singer voice sighs. "I thought we are all comrades in here. But maybe I'm just dreaming."

"This is too real to be a dream," the female voice says.

"You'll know this is a dream when you wake up," singer voice states. "You know, that real feeling of a bad dream that clings to you even after you wake up. That sense of dread. Because in the dream, everything is real."

"That sounds difficult," the lively voice says. "The only difficult thing I'm good at is math."

"Why, that's my archnemesis!" says the singer. "There is no way this is a dream, then. I fear numbers too much to even dream about it. This is definitely not a dream."

"So simple!" says the female voice.

The singer laughs.

"Anyway, that person over there, you haven't spoken a letter since forever! Mind giving us the opportunity to hearing your voice?"

"What? There are more people in here?" the lively voice says.

"How do you know that?!" he quickly demands.

The singer voice chuckles. "I'm good at sensing human."

"So how many more people are here?" the female voice asks.

"Only one. There are five of us," says the singer voice simply.

"So, you over there—though I don't know over where—mind speaking even a little?" the lively voice says.

"Splendid," a low-toned, even-tempered voice says from somewhere in this nowhere. He strains his ears in hope to catch quirks in that voice, immediately concluding that that person is a special entity in this unknown realm since he seems to be waiting to be spoken to, thus means he could be the one bringing them here. "I didn't expect your power to still be present when you are inside the Nihil."

"Nihil?" he croaks. A terminology he has not heard before. Again, unknowing state.

"Nihil," the latest voice confirms. "It is the portal to different dimensions. And, the termination of every dimension."

"What is he talking about?" the female voice grumbles, more rhetorical than in question. Clearly impatient.

"Nihil isn't a place, neither is it a thing. Nihil is a contradiction of itself. Existing, yet unexisting."

"Are you soliloquying, or actually trying to make us dumb fools understand what in the blazes is going on?" the female voice yells.

"You are all here because the time is nigh—"

"He's just ignored me..." the female voice mutters grudgingly.

"—for you to start moving. The last Pillar has now awakened. Our duty awaits."

"You sound like you know something, but you're not making any sense," he comments. "Stop speaking so cryptically."

"You are all scattered in different places, far away from where each of you are needed. Look for the Origins of the Pillars and guard them. Protect them at all costs. For if they crumble, the Heavens will fall."

"What?!" the female voice shrieks.

"Doesn't that sound like a prophecy?" says the singer voice.

But, the calm voice continued, "I am Iraha, bearer of the Sight. I have witnessed the End of the World. And I will, with all my power, prevent it."

"End of the World?" the lively voice says, mulling. "Pillars? I heard the people in the market talking about that. I thought it was just folk tale."

"Wait," the female voice says, "if you've witnessed the End, then how are you going to prevent it?!"

"I am bestowed the power of clairvoyance. I can see the future," the calm one answers patiently. "Or, the future that will be if we don't do anything about it."

"So, it's like, we're all the chosen ones, or something?" the singer voice asks.

"Exactly. You are the descendants of the Pillars' guardians. You are all connected by the will of Fate. That is how I—"

There is a choked sound as the calm voice abruptly stops talking. Chill creeps inside his heart, as the deafening silence grow eerie.

"Hm?" the singer voice says. "Someone new is joining us?"

"Impossible!" the calm voice denies.

"But he's here. He's—"

Suddenly, there is a scream. A scream that is loud, but silent at the same time. A scream not from this world.

He wants to cover his ears, but somehow, the concept of body leaves him. Darkness thickens, before, without warning, recedes into nothingness. Light bursts from the corners of his vision, blinding him. His stomach churn as his arms flail helplessly.

Then, as sudden as every other thing that has just happened, his body connects with cold, hard, marble floor with a loud thud.

"Kuma!"

"Kumaha!"

Voices assault his hearing, uninteligible at first, like being muffled by a barrier. Then he feels a hand grabbing his arm, pulling him up.

"Kumaha, what's wrong?" a concerned voice talks to him gently.

Kumaha needs a few moments to clear his vision from red and green splotches, shaking his head in the process.

"I'm alright," he says, trying to make the people around him quieten down. "I'm alright... I'm—I was..."

Then he stops, as he regards the sight in front of him. There are desks with books and papers on top, shelves of books lining the walls, tables of tubes and flasks, old contraptions at an abandoned corner, amassing dust.

He is in his workroom, together with fellow researchers that are now gathering around him, faces laced with worry. He glances at the window, which curtain is open, showing the dark night sky and tops of the trees outside the workshop, touched by the moonlight. He was here, reviewing the report he was going to submit to the council in the morrow, before...

Was... was that... his heart beats faster, thumping hard on his ribcage painfully. Was that a dream?