The Spare's Second Chance in Apocalypse
Chapter 298: Ch 297: Not ready for it - Part 1

Chapter 298: Ch 297: Not ready for it - Part 1

Ethan stumbled through the dense, twisting forest, his body aching with every step.

The air felt heavy, almost sticky, as if the world itself was trying to drag him down.

His hands brushed against the trees, feeling their bark shift under his touch, reshaping themselves to block his path.

Every time he thought he saw an opening, the forest closed it off again.

The system notification blinked furiously at the corner of his vision.

[Warning: Hostile environment. Movement not recommended. Immediate danger detected.]

Ethan grimaced but ignored it. He had come too far to back down now.

"Danger’s the only thing that’s ever gotten me anywhere."

He muttered to himself, shoving forward.

His muscles protested, feeling like they were burning from the inside out. His breathing turned shallow, and his head spun with each step.

But still, he forced himself onward, clawing past the moving trees and sinking vines.

One wrong step nearly pulled him under—a patch of quicksand-like mud that tried to swallow him whole.

He gritted his teeth, yanking himself out by sheer willpower and pushing harder toward the only thing that looked even remotely like an exit.

At last, after what felt like hours of endless struggling, Ethan broke through the edge of the forest.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the world behind him shimmered—and shattered like glass.

The illusion crumbled. The oppressive weight lifted from his chest.

He dropped to his knees, gasping for air, dragging in great lungfuls as the sticky, clinging magic tried to hold him back even now.

Ethan shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the tendrils of corrupted energy still wrapped around him.

"Not... stopping..."

He growled through gritted teeth.

With raw effort, he forced himself to his feet.

His legs shook under him, but he didn’t pause. He crawled, limped, and stumbled forward across the cracked stone ground.

The landscape was familiar yet changed—ruins of a world long abandoned.

And there, rising in the distance through the swirling mist, was the castle.

The place where it had all started.

Ethan’s heart thudded heavily against his ribs, but he refused to let doubt creep in. He pressed on, the castle getting closer with every dragging step.

Behind him, the air shimmered again, and the red-haired spirit materialized, her arms crossed and a deep frown marring her beautiful face.

She hovered a few feet above the ground, gliding effortlessly while Ethan clawed his way across the battered earth.

"You’re a fool. You should have given up when you had the chance. All your struggling... it’s meaningless."

She said coldly.

Ethan ignored her, too focused on dragging himself forward.

He didn’t have the energy to argue. His body ached, his vision swam, but he kept moving.

The spirit floated closer, her anger giving way to something else. Concern edged into her voice despite herself.

"You’re killing yourself for what? For a world that doesn’t even want you? Turn back. Before you destroy yourself."

She hissed.

Still, Ethan said nothing.

He finally reached the base of the broken castle steps and leaned heavily against a fallen pillar, using it to pull himself upright.

His body trembled with the effort, but he straightened himself up.

The spirit landed in front of him, blocking his path. Her mouth opened, ready to berate him again—but Ethan beat her to it.

He looked up at her through bloodshot eyes, a small, defiant smirk on his face.

"Thanks. For worrying about me."

He said hoarsely.

The spirit’s eyes widened, her mouth snapping shut in shock.

For a long moment, she simply stared at him. No taunts. No curses. Only silence.

Then her face twisted in frustration, her cheeks flushing pink.

"Idiot."

She muttered under her breath.

Before Ethan could say anything else, she turned sharply on her heel and disappeared into a swirl of mist, but not before throwing a string of colorful curses over her shoulder.

Ethan let out a weak chuckle, shaking his head.

He leaned heavily against the cold stone of the castle entrance, feeling the oppressive energy of the ruins pressing against him once more. But this time, he welcomed it.

Because no matter what challenges lay ahead, he was getting stronger. And he would find what he came for.

Nothing—not a dying world, not angry spirits, not even himself—was going to stop him.

Taking a deep breath, Ethan pushed open the crumbling castle doors and stepped inside.

Ethan’s boots scraped against the broken, crumbling floors of the ruined castle.

Every step felt like stepping onto knives, the sharp agony slicing up through his bones with each movement.

The oppressive energy thickened around him, almost tangible, like walking through a sea of needles.

Still, he pressed forward.

The corridor stretched endlessly before him, the heavy, shattered air pressing down harder with every inch he covered.

His legs trembled under the weight, his breathing became ragged, and a deep ache settled into his core.

The ancient energy here wasn’t just old—it was vengeful, clinging to him, trying to crush the very life out of him.

A few steps more and Ethan staggered, his knees buckling.

He caught himself with a trembling hand against the wall, gritting his teeth so hard it hurt. A warning from his system flickered weakly in his peripheral vision, but he ignored it.

"You don’t have to do this alone"

A quiet voice echoed inside his mind.

The real Ethan—the one who had been sleeping inside him since that fateful day—finally stirred. His voice was soft, filled with genuine concern.

"Let me help by sharing the burden."

The real Ethan offered.

Ethan clenched his fists tighter. His pride screamed at him to refuse. He had made it this far on his own. He didn’t need help. He didn’t deserve help.

"No."

Ethan rasped out loud, shaking his head even as the world blurred around him.

But the pressure intensified.

A searing pain tore through his body and, before he could even register what was happening, his vision went black.

His body swayed once before collapsing—but it didn’t hit the ground.

The real Ethan had already taken control, steadying their shared body at the last possible moment.

"You stubborn idiot."

The real Ethan muttered, shifting the body upright with a painful grunt.

Ethan inside protested immediately, cursing in frustration and clutching at the connection between them.

"Damn you. I said no."

He muttered.

But the real Ethan didn’t listen. His focus was clear and sharp.

"If you truly respect Selene, then stop acting like a martyr. She wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want you dead before you could even reach her."

The real Ethan said, voice hard and unwavering,

The words stung.

And worse—they rang true.

Ethan, the one who had refused to ask for help, fell silent.

Pride warred with reason inside his chest, but in the end, he couldn’t find a single argument strong enough to keep fighting.

He fell back inside their mind, leaving control to the real Ethan.

And so, step by agonizing step, they moved forward together.

The end of the corridor loomed ahead, a small chamber that pulsed with pure, raw energy.

At the very center of it hovered a swirling mass—a chaotic, living blob of ancient power, glowing with a violent red and deep violet light.

It was beautiful in a terrible kind of way, and Ethan could feel its weight even from across the room.

This was what they had come for. The final piece to break through the limits, to ascend, to be able to reach Selene again and protect her.

They approached slowly, the heavy magic around them clawing at their skin.

Ethan raised his hand toward the power source, his fingers trembling as they neared it.

But the moment he was inches away, his hand froze in midair.

He grunted in confusion, trying to push forward—but his body refused to respond. It was as if an invisible force had locked him in place, binding his muscles with invisible chains.

His entire body trembled violently, every vein in his body feeling like it was about to burst from the pressure.

"What the hell—?!"

Ethan growled through gritted teeth.

He fought against the invisible restraint with everything he had, pouring all his strength, all his energy into moving forward.

Nothing.

No matter how much he strained, his hand wouldn’t cross the last few inches separating him from the source.

"You cannot take what you are not ready for."

A whisper seemed to echo all around the chamber.

Ethan’s teeth clenched so tightly he thought they might crack. Sweat poured down his face. His muscles screamed in protest. His body was crumbling.

But he didn’t stop.

He refused to stop.

He tried again, and again, feeling his bones creak under the strain, feeling blood drip from his nose and ears from the sheer pressure of it all.

Still, his hand didn’t move.

His mind raced. He couldn’t stop here. Not after everything. Not after coming this far. Selene was out there. Alone. In pain.

He couldn’t fail her.

Ethan’s heart thundered in his chest, a steady, stubborn drumbeat. Not yet. Not here. Not like this.

And so he stood there, caught in that endless struggle, refusing to surrender even as the world itself seemed determined to grind him into dust.