Kurt’s scream echoed through the chamber.
The sound tore through Miles’ mind like a razor, jagged and raw. He wanted to look away, but his body refused to move. His fingers gripped the scythe’s handle, blood still dripping from its blade. Kurt’s blood.
His stomach lurched violently.
Kurt clutched his severed arm, staggering backward, his silver eye blazing with pain and disbelief. His mouth moved, forming words Miles could not hear. The world around them twisted, the edges blurring like ink bleeding into water.
This was not real. It could not be real.
But the scythe in his hands was so solid, so cold and real, and the warmth of Kurt’s blood clinging to his skin.
’No. No, no, no...’
And then, the voice. The laughter – his laughter – stretched, distorted, as if a thousand voices whispered alongside it.
"Poor boy," the voice purred with Miles’ mouth – with his throat – like silk-wrapped steel. His voice, but not his. "Still clinging to that fragile little thing called control. When will you learn and give up for once?"
Miles felt his body move, though he was not the one moving it. The Hatter tilted his head, watching Kurt like a predator inspecting its prey.
Kurt’s breathing was ragged, but his stance did not falter. He pressed his remaining hand against the wound at his shoulder, but his knife was already in his grip.
Miles was slightly astonished at how, even with one arm, Kurt was still one blink away from fighting.
"Fuck... You..." Kurt growled through gritted teeth. "What did you do to the kid?"
The Hatter grinned wider, Miles’ lips stretching past their limits, unnaturally, grotesquely.
"Now, now," the Miles-Hatter being cooed. "Don’t be so crude, dear. We’re having fun, aren’t we?"
Miles scread inside his own mind, clawing for control. His muscles locked, and his breath caught in his throat.
He fought and kept fighting, harder than ever before.
’Get out. GET OUT!’
The Hatter’s grin faltered, just slightly. And then, the chamber rippled, shattering like glass.
And suddenly, Kurt was gone.
The glyphs, the ruins, the severed limb... All gone.
Only darkness remained.
***
Miles gasped, his vision flickering between realities. One mont, he was standing in the chamber. The next, he was sowhere else. The world around him shifted like liquid, reforming itself into sothing new.
No.
Sothing familiar.
A garden stretched before him, but it was wrong. The hedges were too tall, their leaves rustling though there was no wind. The sky above was crimson, streaked with curling ribbons of black. He knew this place.
The Mad Hatter’s tea party.
The long wooden table stood before him, set with cups that overflowed with liquid black as ink. Empty chairs stretched endlessly, curving into the horizon, as if waiting for guests that would never arrive. And there, sitting at the head of the table, was himself.
The Hatter, only he was – still – wearing Miles’ skin.
Miles froze.
The Hatter leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on one gloved hand. The other hand idly stirred his tea with a silver spoon.
"Ah, there you are," he said, grinning. "Took you long enough."
Miles clenched his fists. It was not real. It could not be.
"What the fuck did you do?!" Miles snapped, his voice raw. "Was that real? Did you hurt Kurt?!"
The Hatter sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.
"Oh, dear boy, must we always jump straight to accusations? So predictable..." He lifted his cup and took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving Miles.
Miles trembled with rage.
"I SAID-"
"Was it real?" The Hatter interrupted, acting like a child mimicking an adult. "A good question. But tell , my dear Miles..." His stitched smile stretched wider.
"What is real, anyway?"
Miles took a sharp step forward, his pulse hamring. The Hatter rely lifted a finger, wagging it like a teacher correcting a child.
"Tsk, tsk," he chided. "No need to be so hostile. You’re in my ho, after all."
Miles’ breath hitched. His ho...
This was Wonderland. But not the one Miles had been in before. This was sothing deeper, sothing buried beneath the surface.
It was like the true Wonderland, but... Sothing about it felt off.
"Ah, you’re starting to see it now." The Hatter chuckled.
Miles took another step forward.
"I’m done playing your gas," he said, his voice low, dangerous. "You’re inside , aren’t you? You’re more than just so ’legacy’... I know you’re still alive."
The Hatter’s grin never wavered.
"Oh, my dear, sweet boy..." He leaned forward, eyes gleaming like polished knives.
"I never died."
Miles felt the world lurch around him. The table, the chairs, the endless tea set. Everything warped and folded, as if a cracking illusion, but the Hatter remained seated, calm, amused.
Miles forced himself to breathe through the chaos.
"Then what the hell are you?" he demanded. "What are you, really?"
"Now, now. Asking the right questions, are we?" The Hatter tutted.
The air shuddered. The ground beneath Miles cracked, revealing nothingness beneath it. The Hatter lifted his cup again, tilting it slightly.
"Tell , my dear Miles... Did you ever wonder why your precious system never acknowledged ? Why your artifacts don’t exist in your inventory?"
Miles didn’t answer, because he already knew.
The Hatter smiled knowingly.
"There it is." He set the cup down, the liquid inside swirling like a vortex, and for the briefest of monts, Miles was sure that he saw the black liquid becoming just like the tea he often drank from his [Ether Teapot]. "The Ga did not create ."
Miles felt his stomach drop, and the Hatter continued, his voice a silky whisper.
"I existed before it. Before the rules... Boy, oh boy... I existed way before the story."
The words wrapped around Miles’ throat like a noose.
The Ga did not create him, the system did not recognize him, Wonderland was not a glitch...
Everything related to it was sothing older.
Sothing that had been buried.
The pieces snapped together violently in Miles’ mind.
Wonderland was a prison.
A prison for him.
It was not just a place. It was not a secret quest, or so hidden event in the ga. It was a cage, and the Hatter was its prisoner
And Miles had let him out.
It was then that an unexpected question popped up in Miles’ mind, and he did not let it linger. Miles did not waste a single second trying to push the question away, no.
He asked it.
"Why did the system trap you here...?
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