Chapter 1919

Morpheus battled insomnia that night, tossing and turning in a restless struggle. Despite his weariness, sleep eluded him, his mind consumed by thoughts of Persephone. Unable to divert his focus, he found himself immersed in memories of her. Yet, in the rare moments when her image faded, all that remained was the haunting specter of his life, besieged by bullets. The merciless brutality of the battlefield lingered in his thoughts—the shattered ruins, the blood-soaked drains. He curled into a ball and closed his eyes, a sharp pain radiating from the depths of his heart. Trembling and breathless, he grappled with the overwhelming anguish. Morpheus summoned his strength and compelled himself to sit up, seeking solace in the bathroom. Cold water cascaded over his wounds as he cleansed them repeatedly. Gazing into the mirror, he confronted his reflection, a visual narrative of scars, old and new. Perhaps, he mused, his involvement in the gritty underground arena served as a deliberate