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And suddenly…
Wemmbu doesn’t feel so strong anymore.
For so long, strength was the one thing he could always rely on. He could fight, run, survive, lose everything and somehow keep moving. Every time the world took something from him, he found a reason to stand back up.
But this time??
There was nothing to fight.
Because Jaden was **gone**
The person who had once been his enemy had slowly become someone Wemmbu trusted. Someone he could argue with, laugh with, fight alongside. Someone who, despite everything, stayed close enough to become part of Wemmbu’s world.
And now?. There was just..silence.
Maybe that's why Wemmbu seemed...
**different**
afterward.
Not weaker. Never weaker.
Just… quieter.
Because what do you do when the person you thought would catch up to you doesn't? Do you, still keep on their word?
Jaden's final words weren't about himself. They were about Wemmbu.
“Fly, Wemmbu. I'll catch up.”
And maybe that's what hurts the most.
Because Wemmbu believed them. Until the very last second.. But Jaden never caught up.
For once, Wemmbu couldn't outsmart the situation. He couldn't make another plan. He couldn't turn back time. He couldn't save someone simply by being strong enough.
He had spent **so long** surviving that maybe he'd forgotten what losing someone really meant.
And now he had to keep walking with the realization that one of the people beside him wasn't going to be there anymore.
The strongest player on the server suddenly had nothing to prove.
All this time he wanted to prove himself.. To make people believe he shouldn't be given up on.. Yet this, although minor. But emotional thing? Reset all the progress..
Wemmbu felt useless.. Helpless. He felt like a child, who watched his favorite plushie get torn apart and thrown away like it didn't matter. Wemmbu will slowly forget.. What Jaden looks like, In a month. In a week. Its inevitable. He will forget bit by bit. Until he forgets fully.
And the worst part?
He knew he'd forget.
Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually, he'd forget what Jaden looked like. He'd forget his voice, the little things he'd once found annoying, the things that made him laugh. Piece by piece, the memories would disappear until all that remained was a name and the vague feeling that it had once meant everything.
The days after were strange. Wemmbu kept moving because that was what he did. Wake up. Get up. Do whatever needed to be done. Keep going. Survival had become instinct. But something was missing, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what.
He'd walk through familiar places and catch himself glancing to his side, almost expecting someone to be there. Sometimes he'd even start to say something before remembering there was no one listening. So he stopped. He stopped talking as much, stopped making jokes, stopped looking over his shoulder. He told himself it was fine.
He was fine.
Wemmbu had survived worse. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.
One evening, he found himself sitting alone above the world, watching the last traces of sunlight disappear beyond the horizon. It was quiet—too quiet—and for some reason, that's when he remembered Jaden.
Not the fight. Not his disappearance.
Just Jaden.
The way he used to stand beside him. The way he'd argue over the smallest things. The way he'd say something completely ridiculous with the confidence of someone who genuinely believed he was right.
Wemmbu smiled, just slightly.
Then he tried to remember his voice.
The smile vanished.
He could almost hear it. Almost. The harder he tried to hold onto it, the further away it seemed. He frowned and closed his eyes, searching through the memories he'd been so certain were still there. He remembered the feeling of hearing Jaden speak. He remembered being annoyed by him. He remembered laughing at things he'd said.
But the actual sound of his voice?
Nothing.
His chest tightened.
It was already happening.
He'd imagined forgetting would take years. Something distant and gradual, something he wouldn't notice until it had already happened. Not this. Not now.
But memories didn't care about what he wanted. They faded anyway.
Wemmbu stared down at his hands. “I remember you,” he whispered. The words sounded almost pathetic. Of course he remembered Jaden. Didn't he?
“I remember you.”
He said it again, as if saying it aloud could make the memory stay. He tried to picture Jaden's face. For a moment, he could. Then it blurred.
Wemmbu's breathing caught.
“No, no, no...”
He rubbed his eyes and tried again. The outline was there. The shape. But the details wouldn't stay. It was like trying to hold onto a dream after waking; the harder he reached for it, the faster it disappeared.
And suddenly, the strongest player on the server felt very, very small.
Because there was no enemy here. No battle. No impossible obstacle he could overcome if he simply tried hard enough.
There was only time.
And time was winning.
Wemmbu hated that. He hated feeling helpless more than anything. He could accept losing a fight. He could accept getting hurt. He could even accept being beaten.
But forgetting someone?
That wasn't fair.
Jaden deserved better than that.
He deserved to be remembered as more than a name. More than a story Wemmbu might tell years later. He deserved to be remembered as Jaden—the person who had stood beside him, annoyed him, made him laugh, and promised he'd catch up.
Wemmbu swallowed.
“You said you'd catch up.”
The words barely left his mouth.
He stared toward the horizon, almost expecting movement somewhere in the distance.
Nothing.
Of course there was nothing.
And somehow, that hurt more than he expected.
Because some part of him had still been waiting. Every time he looked behind himself, every time he entered a familiar place, every time he heard footsteps that sounded vaguely familiar, there was always that tiny thought in the back of his mind.
Maybe.
Maybe Jaden had made it. Maybe he'd come running around the corner, complaining that Wemmbu had left without him. Maybe he'd laugh and remind him that he'd said he'd catch up.
Maybe—
**Nothing.**
Wemmbu lowered his head.
He finally understood.
The promise hadn't been broken because Jaden wanted it to be. Sometimes, promises simply weren't enough.
And Wemmbu couldn't fix that.
For once, there was nothing he could do.
He stayed there until the sky went completely dark, staring at the place where the sun had disappeared. He tried one last time to remember Jaden's face. He could almost see him.
Almost.
Then the image slipped away again.
Wemmbu shut his eyes. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he wiped it away quickly, though there was nobody there to see.
He didn't want to cry.
But there was nobody left to pretend for.
So he let himself grieve.
Quietly.
Because maybe that was all he could do now. Remember whatever pieces remained. Hold onto them for as long as he could.
And when the memories finally faded—when Jaden's face became a blur and his voice became nothing more than an echo—Wemmbu hoped some part of him would still remember the feeling.
The feeling of not being alone.
The feeling of having someone beside him.
The feeling of hearing those words:
“Fly, Wemmbu. I'll catch up.”
Wemmbu opened his eyes.
The world was still there. It kept moving, just as it always had.
So eventually, he would too
Not because he was strong. Not because he had moved on. But because that was what he'd always done.
He kept going.
And somewhere deep inside, where the memories were already beginning to fade, Wemmbu held onto one final thought.
Maybe Jaden really would catch up someday.
And until then, Wemmbu would keep flying.