The Second Impact happened twenty-three years ago, while Khan was only twenty-eight. He had lived most of his life with the Nakâs curse, becoming his normality.
To make things worse, Khan didnât recall much about himself or his life before the Second Impact. He lacked memories that could act as a comparison, to look forward to, or be nostalgic about.
In short, Khan didnât know any better. If he slept, he would experience nightmares. That was his normality, a curse he had come to terms with long ago and that had affected his life as a whole.
However, what Khan had just experienced couldnât be further from that. He had just fallen asleep and woken up, and that was it.
It was the strangest feeling in the world. Khanâs senses hadnât stopped working during his naps, either, making everything even eerier.
Usually, Khan experienced something close to lucid dreams, where he couldnât affect what he saw but was aware of his asleep state, which forced him to experience what the nightmares brought.
Nevertheless, the previous nap had been silent, even cozy, dulling and massaging Khanâs senses, lulling them in a restorative process that perplexed him to no end.
It was dark, and it wasnât. To Khanâs surprise, he would even consider it somewhat pleasant, which was a description he had never thought he would link to his sleep.
For the first time in Khanâs life, or that he could remember at least, he was curious about sleeping, almost looking forward to closing his eyes again. That novelty shocked him to the core, leaving him utterly perplexed, but the happy smile pointed at him kept him grounded in reality.
"[Is this what you all experience]?" Khan asked. His question had been genuine, conveying all his surprise and confusion.
Liiza felt as if a knife had stabbed her heart. Her husband looked at her for answers, but she could only see the tragedy of his situation.
How could regular sleep feel unnatural? Despite the mental connection and knowing Khanâs story, Liiza couldnât even begin to fathom how deeply that trauma had spread.
The Nakâs nightmares had been an open, bleeding wound for all of Khanâs life, and removing them didnât heal him. The injury might have closed, but its scar was still there, affecting him on many levels, reflected in the blue mark on his chest.
Some scars could disappear, while others would only fade slightly. Khan would probably never fix the mark on his chest, but the trauma in his mind was something that would wane until it disappeared altogether, becoming nothing more than a bad memory.
Khan only needed time to experience that restoring sleep, going through that as many times as possible, so that his brain could accept it as his new norm.
Of course, Liiza would help Khan by being at his side during that deserved process. After all, family love was the best medicine for such deep-seated traumas. Still, her husband needed a simpler answer now.
"[Depends]," Liiza explained, her smile growing even brighter as she caressed Khanâs face. "[We often rest like this, but at times, we also have dreams, and they can be both good and bad]."
That simple, natural concept was foreign to Khan. He still couldnât believe that he had just experienced a nightmare-less sleep, so his brain couldnât even conceive the possibility of good dreams. Khan didnât know what they were or what shapes they could take.
Yet, there were external clues that Khan could study without needing to fall asleep again. His mind was still sore but had recovered enough for him to remain awake and notice those unmistakable changes.
Ever since inheriting the twisted treeâs memories, the Nakâs home world had been a permanent landmark in Khanâs mind. He could sense that beacon everywhere in all its blinding radiance and compelling call, no matter how distant he was.
However, that landmark was now gone. Khan turned his head, looking at the red sky, only to see and sense the world.
There was no outer-worldly beacon, no alien, foreign call. Nothing compelled Khan to go somewhere. He was simply Khan, with no attachment or profound connection to some grander mission.
Khan reached for his nape, tapping and scratching it, as if wanting to stir his mana core awake. Yet, the organ remained silent, acting as nothing more than another part of himself. It heard no calls, almost forcing him to accept that the impossible had truly happened.
"[Did I do it]?" Khan wondered, lowering his gaze to Liizaâs face. "[Did I really do it]?"
Liiza wanted to speak but couldnât. Khanâs genuine disbelief was too painful for her. Only sobs of happiness would come out if she opened her mouth, so she limited herself to a nod, her hands diving deeper into Khanâs hair to cling to its strands, making him experience her affectionate pull.
Khanâs lips parted in surprise. He blinked, diverting his gaze again before bringing it back to Liiza. His glowing eyes asked a silent version of the previous question, making Liiza nod again. Khan would struggle for a long time to accept his victory, but Liiza would be there to reaffirm it every time.
Khan stared at Liiza, his eyes gradually widening. He reached for the cold hands on his face, only to run his palms over Liizaâs arms, arriving at her shoulders and sliding them down to her back.
"[I did it]," Khan muttered, pulling Liiza closer.
Liiza basically jumped on Khan, hugging him as tightly as her physical strength allowed her to. She clung to his neck and waist with arms and legs, seemingly wanting to squeeze him to death, but his reaction wasnât any weaker.
"[I did it]!" Khan exclaimed, his voice far louder than before, leading to a shout-like laugh while he squeezed Liizaâs torso, too, attempting to convey his raging, incredulous happiness through that affectionate gesture.
Of course, Khanâs physical strength wasnât something Liiza could oppose when he forgot about his self-restraint, especially after devouring the almost entirety of the azure planet.
Still, enduring that force was a different matter altogether, and Khan never tried to hurt Liiza. He kept laughing wildly, occasionally rocking Liiza left and right, eventually affecting her with his incredulous happiness, making her giggle to no end.