Even the past Nameless was not spared from this mental strain ... his condition was far worse.
He did not know Abraham... and Frey appeared to him as nothing more than a stranger who resembled him.
The past Nameless stepped closer, clutching his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat as emotions surged within him for the first time.
He tore off his metal mask, casting it aside... revealing a face nearly identical to Frey’s.
Then he extended his hand toward the man and the youth... attempting to touch them.
But he froze at the last moment.
A voice echoed—deep... resonant... directly within his soul.
"Stop. Do not touch them... if you do, you will be expelled from this place."
Her voice was soft... almost gentle ...yet cold, and strangely familiar at the same time.
A woman capable of stirring such overwhelming emotion... with nothing but her voice.
Frey and Nameless—past and present alike—lifted their heads simultaneously as she appeared above them.
She descended calmly along a spiraling staircase, her slender hand gliding along the golden railing.
She wore a black dress that seemed alive ... flowing around her like shadows themselves.
A dark, translucent veil concealed part of her hair, while the rest cascaded freely.
Hair as black as night... skin pale as snow... and eyes completely dark—devoid of any white.
Just like the Frey and Abraham seated below.
She was beautiful.
Cold.
Familiar.
And utterly terrifying.
Frey felt a storm erupt within his chest and mind, barely able to hold her gaze for even a few seconds.
Even the past Nameless ... despite his overwhelming presence ... lowered his head, unable to withstand her gaze.
"Who... are you?" he asked, his voice trembling in a way utterly foreign to him.
"You already know who I am," she replied, continuing her descent until she reached them.
"You simply... forgot."
"I... don’t understand..." the past Nameless stepped back, trying to distance himself from her.
Because every part of his being screamed at him... not to get close.
A feeling he had never known before.
Fear.
"Don’t run," she said softly. "You ran from me once... don’t do it again."
She extended her hand.
For a brief moment, she was far away.
And then ...
Her hand rested gently against his face.
Without realizing how, he was standing right before her.
The distance between them vanished completely ...
Even the Void could not perceive how it happened.
Her cold hand touched his cheek.
And her eyes—like endless black voids—devoured every part of his existence.
"I... don’t understand..." Nameless whispered, his voice shaking.
"Of course you don’t, my dear child..." she said softly.
"You are nothing more than a broken being... a fragmented existence."
She withdrew her hand slowly... gently.
Then she pointed ... her slender finger directing his gaze toward the book that Frey’s other self had touched.
"If you seek answers... if you seek the truth... then go. Touch that book, the one written by your own hands."
"There... you will understand everything."
Her words carried a strange enchantment—one that left Nameless unable to even consider disobeying her.
He steadied himself, gave a slight nod... then began walking forward, each step heavy with tension, toward the young man, the older figure... and the book.
Behind him, the present Frey and Nameless remained before the woman, their eyes stealing brief glances at her—only to drop back to the ground moments later, unable to endure her gaze.
"Calm down, Frey," Nameless said, his hand tightening into a fist, the strain turning his knuckles pale.
"Calm down!" he repeated, his voice rising, as Frey beside him trembled violently, veins pulsing within his reddened eyes.
"How do you expect me to calm down?!" Frey snapped, his voice breaking.
"How the hell am I supposed to calm down?!"
He forced himself to look at her ... again and again ... ignoring the crushing pressure that made everyone else avert their eyes.
But Frey defied even that.
"Why... why the hell does she look like that?"
Something ignited within him—a wild, uncontrollable fire.
"Why... does she look exactly like her...?"
His eyes filled with longing... and something far heavier.
She was different ... what stood before him now felt beyond comprehension.
Yet that difference lay only in presence... in aura.
Her face—her features...
They were the same.
"Why... does she look exactly like my mother?"
"Why... does she look like the mother I lost... so long ago?"
Frey collapsed to the ground.
His heart pounded violently, his thoughts even more so.
This is impossible... These are Nameless’s memories ... events from thousands of years ago... long before I was born... before she even existed.
It can’t be her... it has to be someone else.
Clutching his chest, Frey denied everything.
Nameless reached out toward him... but froze halfway.
He felt it too ...the same storm Frey was drowning in—and for the first time, he hesitated.
As the past Nameless moved toward the book, the present Frey and Nameless remained there... collapsed before the woman who mirrored his mother perfectly.
Frey forced himself to rise again, gripping his chest, dragging himself to look at her once more ...
And froze.
Nameless did the same.
Because the woman... was looking at him.
Directly.
Her gaze locked onto Frey’s eyes.
A sharp pain pierced Nameless’s head as he struggled to comprehend what was happening.
’This is just a memory... we’re nothing but observers... is this a coincidence?’
’Had she simply lowered her gaze... and Frey happened to be there?’
’No...’
Nameless rejected that immediately.
Her eyes were fixed on him ... on Frey.
It felt as though she wanted to say something.
But in the end... she turned away, shifting her attention back to the past Nameless without uttering a word.
That moment only deepened the mystery... and the unease.
But none of it mattered.
Because the most important moment was about to begin.
Nameless... touched the book.
And that was it ...
The turning point.
The moment that shattered everything... and rewrote reality itself.
He touched it for only a few seconds.
Yet within those fleeting moments... he saw something that shook his very existence.
Scenes—countless scenes—far beyond what any mind should endure.
Information ... truths no being should ever carry.
It lasted only seconds.
But it was enough... to break something inside him.