Out of all people, why am I the ntred protagonist

I wake up feeling sluggish, as if my body had been weighed down by invisible chains.

Slowly, I push myself up, my vision adjusting to the blinding light that floods my surroundings. But as my eyes finally focus, an eerie sight unfolds before me.

The sky—once familiar—has shifted into something unnatural. Darkness creeps in like twilight, swallowing the edges of the horizon. The sun, now a haunting ring of silver fire, glows against the void, its corona flaring ominously. Shadows stretch unnaturally, sharp and restless. A 360-degree sunset paints the edges of the world in a surreal glow.

Then I see it.

The moon, no longer its pale, serene self, now burns a deep crimson, hanging ominously in the sky like a celestial omen. And beyond it, the stars gleam with unnatural intensity, as if peering into this strange domain with knowing eyes.

An eclipse.

I lower my gaze, and a chill crawls up my spine.

The ground beneath me is no ordinary earth—it reflects the sky above with perfect clarity, an endless mirror of twilight and fire. My own reflection stares back at me, shifting, warping, like something alive.

A vast emptiness. A world flipped upside down.

My voice escapes in a whisper, barely audible in the eerie stillness.

"Where the hell am I?"

I scan my surroundings, searching for anything—anything—that might offer a clue. A landmark, a sign, even the faintest whisper of direction. But there's nothing. Just an endless void stretching infinitely, the mirrored ground reflecting the eerie twilight above.

No wind. No sound. No life.

Except—

To my left, a lone mirror stands in the emptiness, its ornate frame contrasting against the vast nothingness. A strange presence lingers around it, almost as if it shouldn't be here.

Cautiously, I step closer and peer into its surface.

It reflects my surroundings, the strange eclipse hanging above… but when I focus on my own image—

Nothing.

My breath catches.

No face. No body. Just empty space where my reflection should be.

I raise my hand. Nothing moves in the mirror.

A cold sensation creeps up my spine, but I shake it off. Standing still won't get me answers.

With no other option, I take a deep breath and step forward.

If there's nowhere to go… then I'll just keep walking.

.

.

.

I don't know how long I've been walking—maybe an hour, maybe more. Each step feels heavier than the last, not from exhaustion, but as if an unseen weight is pressing down on me, growing heavier with every passing second.

I stop, chest rising and falling with a strange weariness that goes beyond mere fatigue. My limbs feel sluggish, my body sinking slightly into the mirrored ground as if gravity itself is pulling me deeper into this strange realm.

And then I notice it.

To my left, standing exactly where I first woke up, is the same mirror. Unmoved. Unchanged. As if I've been walking in place this entire time.

A cold realization settles in my gut as I step closer.

I peer into the reflective surface again, half-expecting something—anything—to be different. But just like before, it shows the sky, the void… and me.

Or at least, the version of me that shouldn't exist.

"You should give up already."

My breath catches.

The reflection smirks, its lips twisting into something off—something wrong.

"This place should be self-explanatory by now, right? I mean, you do get the gist of it?"

I stumble back, heart pounding. "D-Did you just talk?"

The reflection rolls its eyes. "No shit, dumbass."

I swallow hard. "Where am I? And what do you mean, give up?"

A mocking sigh escapes its lips. "Do you really have no idea?" It tilts its head, amusement flickering in those too-familiar eyes. "Come on, there was a sign, wasn't there? Something about a trial?"

The memory clicks.

The book. The system message. The countdown.

"So there you have it." My reflection grins wider, the wicked curve of its smile sending chills down my spine. "You are in the trial."

I take a shaky breath, trying to steady my thoughts. "Alright… so what do I do to finish this trial? And—are you really me?"

My reflection chuckles, tilting its head slightly. "Whoa, slow down. Too many questions at once."

It lifts a hand—my hand—and casually gestures. "First, what you need to do in this trial… that is the real question, isn't it?"

My eyes narrow. "That's not an answer."

The reflection only smirks. "Second," it continues, ignoring my frustration, "I am you. And you are me."

It taps the glass with a single finger, the sound echoing unnaturally.

"…Well, mostly me. Maybe just a little bit different."

My stomach twists at the way it says that—like it's enjoying some inside joke that I'm not in on.

"And that's just how it is."

I clench my fists. "Tch. You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

The reflection shrugs. "I mean, can you blame me? You've been wandering around helplessly for an hour."

Its smirk fades slightly. "But that doesn't matter anymore. Because they are coming."

A chill runs down my spine.

"…They?" I echo.

The reflection's grin stretches wider, something dark flickering in its eyes.

"You'll see."

Shadows writhe and twist across the ground, stretching like oil slicks, bubbling unnaturally. Then, grotesque hands begin to emerge—thin, gnarled fingers clawing their way into existence. One after another, they multiply, reaching, grasping, as if starving for something alive.

A chill seeps into my bones.

"They've come," my reflection muses, watching with a glint of amusement in its eyes.

I tear my gaze away from the horror unfolding around me, locking eyes with the twisted version of myself in the mirror.

"What the hell are these things?" I demand, but deep down, I already know the answer.

He only chuckles. "Kid, you lost the chance to give up."

My stomach twists as the hands claw closer, the air thick with a suffocating presence. The weight pressing on my back grows heavier, dragging me down like chains I can't see.

"These things—" My reflection gestures lazily at the writhing mass of limbs. "—will drown you in despair."

He leans forward, placing his hand against the mirror, his wicked smile stretching wider.

"And I can't wait to watch!."

The shifting shadows begin to twist, taking on familiar shapes—human-like figures with indistinct, wavering edges, as if reality itself struggles to hold them together.

I watch, my breath hitching as two figures emerge from the darkness, their forms solidifying with each passing second.

No…

A cold wave of dread washes over me as I recognize them.

Mom? Dad?

They stand before me, their faces eerily still—hollow, yet unmistakably theirs. But the moment they open their mouths, my stomach drops.

"Such a disappointment," my mother's voice cuts through the heavy air, filled with venomous disdain. "I gave you everything I had, yet you still failed. You should die, not knowing gratitude."

My father crosses his arms, shaking his head with disappointment. "I'm sorry, honey, but our son hasn't changed one bit. We gave him chances, and now look at him—his life is in ruins."

Their words pierce deeper than any blade ever could. My throat tightens, a lump forming as their voices echo inside my skull.

No. This isn't real.

And yet, it feels so damn real.

"Ooh, how I love the smell of despair!," my other self exclaims, his voice dripping with amusement. He takes a deep breath, as if savoring the atmosphere. "So sweet… so exhilarating."

But I barely hear him.

I can't hear anything.

My mind is frozen, locked in disbelief at the figures standing before me—at the words they just spoke.

Then, the shadows shift again.

Two more figures emerge. One with a normal build, the other slightly heavier.

My breath catches in my throat.

Marky? TJ?

"If I knew you'd end up like this," TJ sneers, crossing his arms, "I wouldn't have wasted my time befriending you." His eyes, usually bright with mischief, are now clouded with disappointment. "Honestly, I always hated your goddamn attitude. Every second I spent with you, I wanted to punch that damned face of yours."

I stagger back, my chest tightening. "W-what…?"

"I agree with TJ," Marky mutters, his voice oddly cold. "And how you shamelessly came to hang out at my house? I hated every second of it. Every time you showed up, I wished you wouldn't. You disgust me."

A twisted, suffocating silence follows.

I try to speak, to breathe, but my throat feels like it's closing up.

This… this isn't real.

And yet, the weight of their words crushes me.

I try to run, but the shadows won't let me.

Countless hands—cold, lifeless, merciless—lash out from the darkness, gripping my arms, my legs, my torso. Their grip is suffocating, unyielding. No matter how much I struggle, they refuse to let go.

Whispers slither into my ears, hissing like venomous snakes.

"You're worthless."

"A failure."

"Why do you even exist?"

"Just die already."

My body trembles. My mind frays.

Maybe they're right.

Maybe I should just die.

Why am I even here? Why do I keep struggling?

A glint of silver catches my eye. A knife, gleaming in the eerie half-light, hovers in front of me as if it had always been there, waiting.

Across from me, my other self grins, his wicked amusement growing by the second.

"Go on," his voice purrs, laced with anticipation. "End it. Finally do something right for once."

I stare at the blade, my fingers twitching.

It would be easy. So easy.

Just one thrust—one motion—and all the pain, all the suffering, would vanish.

Why didn't I think of this sooner?

I reach for the knife.

My fingers curl around the hilt.

I lift it, aiming for my chest—

CRACK!

A fist slams into my face, snapping my head to the side.

Pain explodes across my jaw, but so does clarity.

The fog in my mind shatters.

"The fuck are you doing, huh?!"

The voice—loud, brash, painfully familiar—shakes me to my core.

I blink, my vision swimming.

Standing in front of me, arms crossed, looking pissed as hell—

"Marky?!"

Next to him, with the same unimpressed look, stands another familiar face.

"TJ?!"

My breath catches in my throat.

"Why the hell are you guys here?!"