Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 818 - 820

Chapter 818: Chapter 820

Was he truly ready? The trials he had faced had stripped him down, forced him to confront pieces of himself he had buried, but was that enough? The reflection tilted its head as if reading his thoughts, and for the first time, it spoke in a voice that was entirely his own, yet completely foreign.

"You already know the answer."

Jude clenched his fists, not in anger, but in determination. He did know. The hesitation was not doubt. It was the last remnant of the person he had been before this journey had begun, the final tether to what had once been. Letting go of that was not easy.

But he had already let go.

The realization settled within him like a weight being lifted. He exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath. And then he moved forward, not hesitantly, not cautiously, just forward.

The moment his foot touched the space where his reflection stood, there was no explosion of light, no sudden chaos. Instead, everything became still. Perfectly still.

Jude did not fall. He did not rise. He simply existed. And in that existence, he understood.

There was no longer a tower because he was the tower.

There was no longer a journey because he had already arrived.

And yet, there was no end because the path did not cease, it simply transformed.

The sky around him was no longer a twisted mess of light and darkness. It was infinite, stretching beyond sight, beyond comprehension. The ground beneath him was no longer solid, yet he did not fall. He was not standing on anything, and yet he was.

His reflection was gone, but not because it had vanished. It was because it was now a part of him, fully and completely. He was no longer two versions of himself split by doubt and uncertainty. He was whole.

He raised a hand and found that he could see through it, not because he was fading but because he was more than physical form now. He was something else entirely, something that existed beyond mere flesh and thought.

For a moment, he wondered if he should feel fear. But there was no fear, no uncertainty. Only acceptance.

And then the voice returned, but this time, it was not an echo, not a whisper. It was not something separate from him.

It was him.

"You were never meant to reach the tower," he said, though there was no need to speak. The words simply were. "You were meant to become it."

And as the last remnants of the world he had once known faded into the infinite, Jude did not feel loss. He did not feel regret. He simply felt complete.

The silence stretched endlessly, but Jude was no longer bound by the need for sound or time. He existed, not in a place, not in a moment, but as something beyond. Yet, within this stillness, a flicker of sensation stirred. Not sight, not sound, but awareness. A thread, pulling him, calling him, reminding him that though he had become something more, he was not without purpose.

The sensation was familiar, like the brush of a memory long buried, waiting to be unearthed. It was neither warm nor cold, but it carried weight, a presence that pressed against his very existence. And as the realization settled, Jude felt the shift. He was moving, though not in any physical sense. He was being drawn.

The endless expanse around him fractured, not in chaos but in precision, like pieces rearranging to form something new. He recognized it now, not destruction, not an end, but a reformation. A doorway, if such a thing could exist in a realm beyond the physical. And as he allowed himself to be pulled toward it, he felt the first sensation of weight return to him.

Gravity.

A concept he had left behind. A force that had once defined his existence was now wrapping around him again, reminding him that he had been human before he had been this. His form solidified, not as flesh and bone but as something resembling it, something familiar. The world around him shaped itself in response. Shadows stretched and twisted, forming the walls of a place he recognized.

Leonork.

The city had never looked so vast before. He stood above it, not on any physical structure, yet he could see the streets winding like veins, pulsing with life. The people moved below, unaware of the shift that had occurred, the unseen force that had returned to the world. The weight of existence pressed down on him again, but he did not resist. He welcomed it.

He was not alone.

A presence emerged beside him, not foreign, not hostile, just there. He turned and met eyes that were both his and not his. A reflection, not the one he had left behind, but something new, something altered. The figure wore no expression, no emotion, just patience, waiting for him to understand.

"You returned," the figure said, though the words carried no voice. They were simply understood.

Jude did not answer immediately. He turned back toward the city, watching as the night stretched over it like a silent guardian. He had expected something different, something grand, yet the world had continued without him.

"I never left," Jude finally responded, and the truth of those words settled deep within him. He had become something more, but he had never ceased to be.

The figure inclined its head slightly, as though acknowledging something unspoken.

"You stand at the edge," it continued. "Between what was and what is."

Jude knew what it meant. He had crossed beyond the boundaries of what he had once been, yet he was being called back. The threads of his past still lingered, waiting for him to grasp them again.

There was no command, no force pushing him toward a decision. Only understanding.

He took a step forward, and with that single motion, the world around him changed again. He was no longer above the city. He was within it. The streets stretched before him, the hum of life surrounding him, yet no one seemed to notice him. He moved through the crowd, unseen, untouched, as though he were a shadow cast by something greater.