That day, Wirt fell ill, and seriously so.
That day, Wirt transmigrated into another world as a psychologist.
What is another world like?
Probably not what one would hope for.
Strange insects, sustained by curses, devoured flesh and blood without restraint.
The "honey pot" hung quietly from the ceiling.
Inside it was the future that should have gazed up at the stars.
Strange, uncanny trees sought equality, quietly assimilating everything.
The "Great Pursuit" lay buried deep beneath the lightless earth.
Imprisoned within it was the diversity that should have made the world so colorful.
The animals yearned for freedom. They roared, eager to tear everything apart.
The "wings" floated high in the sky.
Inside them lay true possibility.
Everything was in chaos. They fought one another, heading toward destruction.
And what about Wirt?
The organization called [Fate], famed for its works, came to him, hoping to weave a web of predestination through him.
A fanatical gambler came to him, leading him onto the battlefield of fate while plotting a secret unknown to all.
And then there were his patients.
His patients followed him because he was a psychologist, because he was Wirt.
The world descended into a chaotic age known as the apocalypse.
Life was disregarded, and thought was trampled underfoot.
Everything was planned, planned to end in oblivion.
What did Wirt want?
Atonement? To break free of predestined fate? To set this chaotic world right?
Who knows?
Perhaps all of it.
Perhaps only he himself knows.
Will tomorrow be better?
Perhaps, when the sun rises...
