Tup huddled in a dimly lit storage room, his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his legs. His face was buried in the gap between his knees and chestplate, a futile attempt to shield himself from the onslaught of memories.

The Umbara mission had taken an immense toll on him. A mere rookie—a shiny, as they called him—he had been thrust into a maelstrom of horror during one of his first battle. To say he was free from horrific night terrors would be a blatant untruth. Every waking moment was an uninvited replay of memories he wished to forget. Yet, fate had other plans.

As sobs racked his body, Tup trembled violently, his nails biting into his palms until they drew blood. He understood the commitment he had made, the necessity of preparing for grueling missions. This was the reality of his choice.

But now? The darkness loomed like a never-ending void of terror, a palpable fear that suffocated him. Despite his desperate efforts to tuck himself into a corner, to seek refuge, the memories were relentless, imprinted on his mind.

They echoed, over and over again.