Ezgar was now tied to the stone, and his thoughts ran wild as he tried to figure out how to escape and jump from the cliff. He had already done whatever he could. Cutting at the invisible chains, throwing stones—none of it worked. The task couldn't be completed like that.
He was so lost in thought, he forgot his wrist was still bleeding. Maybe it was the countdown that made him forget everything else. That cold, ticking reminder of death.
What should I do? What should I do?
There's not much time left.
I have to jump somehow. If I jump, I might die. But if I don't jump… I will definitely die. That's certain. No choice. I have to complete the task. Somehow…
But how?
He looked at his wrists and ankles again, then tried once more to free himself from the invisible chains. Even after hundreds of attempts, he still couldn't break free.
"Ah… how do I get out of these…?"
Ezgar was anxious, but more than that, he was restless. The timer kept ticking.
[Remaining Time: 12:27]
He closed his eyes and forced himself to think.
Jump off the cliff. That's the task.
If I jump like this—still tied—will it count? But I won't go down…
But what if…
He tried forcing his leg. At first, only his toes moved. Not enough. He clenched his jaw, gathered all his strength, and pushed.
He barely got his leg off the ground. It was pathetic, but it was a jump.
Still—nothing.
No change. No completion. The timer remained.
"So that doesn't count, huh…"
He looked up again.
[Remaining Time: 10:43]
"Why? Why all these complications?!" he yelled. "Hey! Anyone out there?! If you're listening, release these fucking chains! I know you're watching! Hurry up!"
He waited.
But no one came.
Because no one was there in the first place.
Ezgar already knew that truth—but still, he tried. And that hope—breaking—left a wound worse than the chains ever could.
He went crazy and started muttering, "I need to jump… I need to jump… I need to jump…" over and over, like a chant carved from desperation.
Then suddenly, a thought hit him like a slap.
Yes. I need to jump—or something that belongs to me. Something that represents me. "Fuck, why didn't I think of this before?" he cursed.
"Shit… fucking dumb bastard. You're a dumb bastard, Ezgar…"
His eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings.
What can I use? What do I still have?
Only one thing came to mind.
His shoes.
Maybe… if I throw my shoe off the cliff, maybe that'll count.
"But can I even get it off before time runs out?" He paused for a moment, thinking, then shook his head.
"Aah, forget it—just try. Do I even have a better option?"
He started twisting his heel, flexing his toes, slowly working to loosen the shoe. His first attempt failed—not because he couldn't—but because he hadn't used all his strength. He could feel the seconds slipping away like sand through his fingers but he didn't stop.
With effort and focus, he created just enough space and finally—yes—he managed to free it halfway.
"Just like this… slowly… now—go!" With a final, forceful kick, he flung the shoe toward the cliff.
It soared through the air, spinning.
Ezgar held his breath.
But instead of falling—it landed right on the edge.
The toe of the shoe jammed between two tiny jagged stones, the heel dangling loosely off the cliffside. He stared at it, unsure whether to laugh or scream.
"Fuck…" the single word described his situation perfectly.
He felt as if the shoe itself was mocking him, whispering, You think this is easy?
Then, just as despair was about to crush him again, a breeze rolled in—light but perfectly timed. The shoe tilted. Wobbled. And fell.
Gone. Over the edge.
Ezgar's eyes widened. One word again, full of disbelief and bitter hope.
"Fuck…"
But that hope shattered in an instant.
[Remaining Time: 1:58]
No change. No success.
His brief happiness turned to rage. If there had been a thermometer nearby, it would've exploded from touching him. He had completely lost hope.
He slammed the back of his head against the stone behind him.
"Bang. Why… Bang. Why… Bang. Why…" With every strike, blood began to drip down his forehead. He felt the pain—but didn't stop.
Is there even a point anymore?
"Why am I not allowed to live?" he whispered. "Is it because I'm an orphan? Why… why… why…"
The blood from his wrists still hadn't dried, and now, fresh red streaks ran down the back of his neck. The stone drank every drop in silence.
"God… please… I want to live… please…"
But there was no answer.
Only his voice. Only pain.
Then, a memory flashed—The Warden. That soulless man who raised them for the factory, who used them like tools. Ezgar remembered his voice, his smirk, his twisted gospel:
"Don't ask at night why God made you suffer. There are no gods or demons. Only powerful people who created legends."
"And those sacred books? They're just fiction. Tools for the weak. It's all a lie. If you want to change that—be a legend yourself. But you—you can't. None of you can't."
"Hahaha… you're right… You're right, Warden… Even if you're a devil, at least you kept your word. Food and Roxynil until we turned fifteen…" His voice trembled. "I'm sure you suffered too… but I still hate you… I still…"
Before he could finish, his vision blurred.
And then—darkness began to cloud his vision.
He was fainting. His eyes drooped… but just before they shut completely, he saw the timer one last time:
[Remaining Time: 00:10]
Then, at 00:03, the countdown stopped. And his body collapsed, limbs limp, head bleeding.
The small rocks beneath him pierced his skin—but there was no pain now.
The blue virtual screen blinked… then turned black.
New words replaced the timer:
[Binding Task: Jumping Off the Cliff —Completed]
[Mutation — Successfully Completed]
[Current Designation: Scrapper]