Utopia: The Perfect World

Aarav's armor pulsed with a dark aura, sending tremors through the ground. The earth cracked beneath them—then exploded.

A monstrous maw burst forth, its gaping jaws lined with jagged, rotting fangs. A wave of decay filled the air, thick and suffocating.

Lysa froze.

The beast lunged.

Aarav moved.

In a blur, he grabbed her, yanking her away just as the creature's fangs clashed shut, barely missing her. Dust and debris spiraled into the air as the monster fully emerged—a basilisk.

A serpent of nightmares. Dark, glistening scales. Eyes that could turn a man to stone.

Aarav let Lysa go, rolling his shoulders, assessing the beast.

"You…" she whispered, reaching for him, "You can't—"

Her voice shifted.

Aarav turned, but the pink-haired maid was gone.

Her form flickered, soft pink bleeding into smoky gray. Stripes coiled around her skin, delicate features sharpening into something feral.

Aarav's breath hitched. "Lysa…?"

The world shuddered.

The basilisk's hiss faded. The cracked earth rippled like water. The eerie green sky melted into darkness.

And then—everything shattered.

And suddenly—

Aarav wasn't standing in a battlefield anymore. He was staring at a tiny, gray-striped cat sitting on his chest.

A dream.

It was all just a dream.

"Damn…" Aarav muttered, rubbing his face. He sat up, feeling the lingering adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The cat stretched lazily, then padded onto his lap as if nothing had happened. Aarav let out a sigh and glanced at his phone.

4:45 AM.

He was up early—before his alarm.

A tired smile crept onto his lips. "Well, that was something…"

The cat yawned and curled up beside him, completely unbothered.

Aarav stretched his arms, still feeling the ghostly weight of his dream lingering in his mind. In the dream, he had felt taller, stronger—almost like a giant—but in reality, he was just 5'10 with a slightly muscular build.

He mumbled to himself, "Dreams really are interesting…"

Then, as the images from his dream flashed in his mind, a mischievous smirk crept onto his face. I wonder if I had stayed there a little longer… what else could have happened?

Lysa's face came to his mind—her flustered expression as she leaned in closer, her lips just inches from his…

Aarav shook his head and brushed the thought away. "Tsk, what am I thinking?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

With a deep breath, he got off his bed and stretched again. "Anyway, no time to waste. It's time to run!"

Aarav still felt dizzy from the lack of sleep, but he was determined to push himself further. His mind buzzed with frustration as he ran through the cold December air, his breath visible in the freezing darkness.

"I've been following all these self-improvement tips from people on the internet for two years now… and yet, I don't see any real improvement. I feel stuck in this place. Next year, I won't even be a teenager anymore."

The thought made his chest tighten, and with that frustration fueling him, he increased his speed. His legs moved faster, his heartbeat pounded in his ears—until suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his foot.

POP!

Aarav felt his ankle twist unnaturally, and before he could react, he stumbled forward, crashing onto the hard pavement. A jolt of searing pain surged from his ankle, spreading through his entire body like an electric shock. His stomach churned from the intensity, and he let out a sharp gasp.

"Damn it…!" He clenched his teeth, his fingers digging into the cold ground as he tried to suppress the nausea rising in his gut.

He tried to stand, but his ankle screamed in protest, sending another wave of pain through him. His breath grew shallow, and for a moment, he just lay there, frozen by the agony. The world around him was eerily silent—no cars, no people, just the distant hum of the wind.

He exhaled shakily and forced himself to move, dragging his injured foot as he pushed his body up.

"No one's here… I have to get home by myself," he muttered, his voice trembling.

Every step was torture, but he bit his lip and limped forward. His thoughts raced.

"I can't afford to miss college. These are the final weeks of assignments and presentations… I made it to my last year. I can't waste it now. I'll graduate in a few months—no matter what."

Aarav somehow dragged himself home, barely able to walk, every step sending waves of excruciating pain through his body. He had limped for two kilometers, his breath ragged, his muscles screaming, but he made it.

The moment he entered his apartment—a place neither too big nor too small, just enough for him—he collapsed onto the cold floor. The room was simple: a single bed, an old almirah with a mirror, and a study table cluttered with books and papers. He lay there, motionless, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts consumed him.

"Why am I doing all of this? Would it even make a difference?"

His breathing was heavy, and as he clenched his fists, memories rushed through his mind—flashes of past injuries, past struggles. This wasn't the first time he had hurt himself pushing too hard.

"Yet… no one ever asked me, 'What happened to you?'"

His chest tightened, and for a moment, he felt something sting in his eyes. A few drops of tears almost escaped, but he quickly blinked them away.

Slowly, he forced himself to sit up, his body aching with every movement. As he turned to the mirror on the almirah, he finally saw himself clearly. His face—he hadn't even noticed it before. His skin had been scraped against the hard charcoal road, leaving raw, bloody marks across his cheek. His lower lip was slightly cut.

Only now did he realize the full extent of his injuries. He had been so focused on the pain in his ankle that he had ignored everything else.

He unzipped his jacket, wincing as he pulled it off. His elbow was no exception—scraped, bruised, and streaked with dried blood.

"Thank God no one is awake yet…" he mumbled, exhaling sharply.

As he sat there, trying to process everything, his little cat, the only warmth in his lonely world, curled up beside him, rubbing against his arm. He let out a soft chuckle despite himself, stroking its fur.

"At least… you're here."

Aarav finally broke.

The weight of everything—his past, his struggles, his failures—crashed down on him all at once. His vision blurred as hot tears streamed down his face. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, but he couldn't stop the flood of emotions.

"I trained my body... just to make myself stronger… so nobody bullies me anymore."

He choked on his words, his body trembling. But then, something shifted. His sadness twisted into something darker—rage.

"Bully? You say bully?" He scoffed, his breath shaky, his tears still falling.

His lips curled into a bitter smile as his fingers gripped his hair.

"People only treated me that way because they were just kids. In the end, they were nothing but children playing with their so-called toy. And once they grew up, they got busy with their so-called lives… forgetting everything. Meanwhile, I—"

His chest heaved, his shoulders shaking. His breathing turned erratic. Then—

A laugh.

A laugh that didn't feel like his own.

It started low, almost a whisper, then grew louder—hollow, unhinged, desperate. His own laughter echoed through his empty apartment, bouncing off the walls. It wasn't joy. It wasn't relief. It was madness.

And then—

Silence.

He froze.

His own voice had startled him. His own mind had betrayed him.

He wiped his face with his sleeve, his breath still uneven. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum. His cat, startled by his sudden outburst, took a step back, staring at him with wide, confused eyes.

Aarav let out a dry chuckle and exhaled, slumping against the wall.

"I guess… I'm losing my shit."