A... memory?

Adam stared at the five figures floating before him, their ethereal silhouettes suspended against the burning sky and the distorted horizon.

He was sure of it. They couldn't be anything else, after all.

Administrators.

This vision in front of him—this memory. It felt different from everything he had dreamed of so far. This one was more vivid, clearer, even.

But he was sure… he was sure that this was a memory deeper than any he had seen before. He could feel it, not even in his mind.

It was in the marrow of his bones, creeping at the very depths of his existence. This memory predated anything else. Even older than that random memory he had recently inside a crypt.

Why… were these surfacing now? Memories beyond the Hospital. How could this even be possible?

…And why?

The Administrators slowly descended toward him, and yet none of the three pairs of wings on their back moved at all.

Were they just for decoration? Or is this just his memory playing tricks on him?

Their lips moved, the five of them speaking at the same time. But alas, the harsh winds howling through the endless wasteland beyond drowned their words.

Adam was sure, however, that their words were being carried throughout the desert.

What are they saying? And—huh?

And as they drew ever closer, Adam finally noticed that they weren't alone. Hundreds of figures were there with him, all dotting the long steps of stone below him.

All Adam could see were silhouettes and figures. Shadows. He couldn't discern their clothes or even what they looked like at all.

He could, however, recognize their postures. All of them knelt, prostrating themselves before the Administrators.

These god-like beings couldn't care less about them. Their three eyes were fixed on Adam, and Adam alone.

It made his skin crawl. They continued to speak, their mouths moving even faster now as if they were talking to him directly.

But once again, the growing wind drowned out everything. The more he tried to remember, the more the wind became stronger, and stronger… and stronger.

Until it became a cyclone that shattered the very memory.

"Hm…?!"

Adam stumbled backward, his head spinning as everything around him distorted—no, returned to normal. The large statue of the Administrator once again loomed above him, cold and lifeless now.

He looked around, and the tourists were moving again, their chatter replacing the harsh wind that was blowing in his ears.

"Kh!"

A sour taste rose in his throat as a sudden blow of nausea took over him. He pressed his hand to his mouth, fighting the urge to vomit there and then. He could feel his skull splitting apart, and the lights and the flashes from the cameras felt like needles searing into his brain.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head violently to get rid of the memories—it was what was causing this. But of course, his mind wasn't allowing him to.

What was that, Adam? What was that?! Who are you... what are you...? Shut up. Shut up!

He stumbled forward, gripping the metal bars protecting the statue. And on the polished steel, he caught a glimpse of his reflection… and for a moment there, he couldn't even recognize himself.

"G…g…"

He shook his head, trying his best to bury the memory that was trying to resurface. His mind was screaming at him—screaming at him to remember, but at the same time, not to.

He didn't know what to follow at all, nor what to even do.

He couldn't even remember the name and face of the doctor who had cared for him in the Hospital, the one warm presence in that White Room. Yet these ancient visions surfaced without warning, demanding attention from him.

Adam... how old are you? How—No!

He gritted his teeth, staring at his reflection as he tried to center himself. Throughout his entire life, he'd been running—from the Hospital, from his past… and yet now, there is something inside him telling him that he had a past even before that?

He'd thought his life began in that facility. The pain, the tests… there was a version of him before that?

It didn't make sense. He remembered growing up inside the Hospital. He was a child. How… could there be something before that?

"Kh!"

The throbbing returned, stronger this time, like his body was rejecting the very attempt to remember. Well, that was something he agreed with.

He already had enough problems. The Hospital hunting him, the Game's mysteries, the loss of Grace and Samantha... adding ancient visions wasn't something he was interested in. No.

"…Fuck that."

He sighed deeply, forcing his breathing to steady as he released his grip on the barriers. The pain gradually subsided, leaving only a dull ache behind his eyes.

Looking around the museum lobby, he noticed several visitors had been watching him with concern. He straightened his posture and pulled his cap lower, hoping to blend back into the crowd.

Focus, Adam. You came here for answers about the Administrators. Focus.

"Follow me, everyone. Here, right here!"

A voice echoed from the next gallery, and when Adam saw that it was a group of tourists, he approached them and casually blended in. He glanced at the guide, and she didn't seem to notice him joining.

"The Game began twenty years ago when exactly one hundred asteroids struck Earth simultaneously," the guide explained, gesturing toward a large diorama showing the impacts. "Everyone thought it was the end of the world, and the sight of the meteors was… extreordinary. But within minutes of landing, each asteroid transformed into what we now call Domes, trapping sixty thousand people inside each one."

"How many people have died?" a child asked.

The guide's smile faltered slightly. "The exact number is… difficult to determine. Millions, certainly. But the Game has also created our Heroes, who protect us from the Leaks and other threats that emerged from—"

Adam stepped away from the tour. She wasn't really saying anything new, and he doubted she ever would throughout the tour. It was… better to proceed by himself.

He continued to walk and found himself in the Dome Creatures exhibit, surrounded by taxidermied monsters from various Game arenas.

"Huh…" And at one of the corners stood a massive Ratatusk, its white fur gleaming under the spotlights. This specimen was even larger than the one he'd fought.

'Adam, move!'

What the…

Grace's voice suddenly echoed in his ear, as clear as if she were standing beside him. His chest tightened, and suddenly the preserved monsters around him seemed to twitch and move.

No… no…

His breathing became shallow, rapid. This part of the museum was cold to help with preserving the taxidermies, and yet beads of sweat started to trail from his forehead.

His hands began to shake, and his breathing almost stopped completely. The room around him started to spin, and the walls felt like they drew closer and closer to him, trapping him with all the stuffed creatures.

Everything… felt so alive. The ratatusk in front of him looked like it was ready to tear him apart again.

But the creatures weren't the ones causing his breath to falter, no. It was Grace's voice. It was Samantha's voice. It was the screams. It was the blood. The faces of all the people he'd killed.

Stop it… stop.

Adam forced himself to move, stumbling toward the exit and into a brighter gallery.

"Ha…" He pressed his back against the wall, wheezing as he focused on his breath. He quickly scanned the room to ground himself, trying to identify each and every object to calm down.

And when he noticed the other visitors staring at him, he quickly straightened his posture.

"Oh…"

But then, when he realized that the one staring at him was actually a wax figure, the tight feeling was suddenly washed away and he couldn't help but just sigh at himself.

He'd entered the Hall of Heroes.

Life-sized figures of the world's most powerful Game survivors stood frozen in front of him. At the room's center, elevated on a circular platform, stood the most famous Hero of all.

A Hero even a recluse like Adam knew about.

The First Soldier.

And as his title suggested, he was the very first person to become a Hero. He is also currently one of the only three X-tier Heroes, or as they were alternatively known, Planet-tier.

People who could move the entire world if they wanted to.

He approached the figure slowly. And surprisingly, the First Soldier looked incredibly… ordinary. Tanned skin. A buzz cut. Just a man in a faded green military uniform.

"Huh…" Adam glanced at the plaque displayed beside it.

[Gerald, The First Soldier. Born Gerald Christopher Y. Pancito, a cadet at the Philippine Military Academy—]

Adam's eyes widened. "A cadet…?"

He'd assumed the First Soldier had been a hardened combat veteran, someone with years of training and battlefield experience. But according to the plaque, Gerald had been just a student when the first Game began… even younger than him.

Seventeen years old. A young man thrown into hell.

"Wow…" Adam whispered in awe, moving to examine other Heroes throughout the gallery. He wasn't getting distracted… this was part of research.

He was heading toward the display of the other X-tier Heroes when something caught his attention—a familiar figure positioned near the wall, partially hidden by a pillar.

Isn't that…?

The wax figure stood out to him, and not just because he had met the original one in person.

It was because this wax figure only wore casual clothes and a wide-brimmed hat that almost covered its face, instead of the elegant fencing attire he remembered. Adam moved closer, studying the face beneath the hat's shadow.

It was a wax figure of the Duelist of Rose.

"I guess she's not as prominent as the others?" he murmured, glancing at the other wax figures behind him. "Or they haven't properly placed her yet?"

Adam focused on the face, subtly nodding his head at the detail.

"They got the face right. She was beautiful," he muttered to himself. He was about to find where the plaque was to know more about the Duelist of Rose, but then he heard someone mutter back to him.

"Eh…?"

Adam's eyes widened, and he quickly looked back up at the figure's face… only to find it looking directly back at him.

"What the…"

Why… is this museum giving him all sorts of visions?

"Wait… please, don't run away," the wax figure spoke again, and Adam finally realized that the real one was actually standing in front of him. And of course…

…Adam ran.

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