Finally, after several excruciating minutes, Pü managed to free himself from his coffin. No sooner was he freed than he fell into the pit, mask first, without even having time to look around. His mutilated, half-naked body crashed into a pile of chitin, and another image came back to him. In his memory, he and his companions had cleaned up Ceremonial Square after the creatures' first assault. So how could it be filled with carcasses again? Yet he had only been unconscious for a few seconds. Stunned and drained, he crawled for a few meters, between pieces of charred carapaces. How long, really, had he been unconscious? His father, brother and uncle, where were they? With his view blocked by the mound of cold carcasses, the young Zorai made his way to the pile that towered above all the others. He had to get some height. His body bruised, still unable to stand, he began to climb it. The climb was long and difficult, but he finally managed to grab the cranial nozzle of the kinrey that topped the mass grave. One of those who had skewered his brother. And as he pulled himself up to the top with a final effort, his gaze shifted to the other end of the pit, and his life toppled. As deep as his wounds were, the sprouting of his mask was still the most physically painful thing he had ever experienced. But nothing had ever prepared him for the sight of his father and uncle's pierced bodies, chest to chest, mask to mask. They were nailed to the wall of the pit by a huge severed leg. From its bluish color, he knew it belonged to the commander of the creatures his elders had faced. First Ke'val, then his father, then the wall. The Shadow had sacrificed himself to save the Black Mask… in vain. The two greatest warriors of the tribe were now dead. Transfixed by what he hoped was only a hallucination, Pü did not react. But the vision persisted. Realizing that everything he was seeing was real, he was unable to take the shock and fell asleep inside himself. What little innocence he had left was shattered along with his reason.

It was standing in front of Grandmother Bä-Bä's hut, at the top of the village, far from the pit, that Pü regained full consciousness. Standing and staggering. Feverish. Nauseous. With drool on his lips and a glassy look in his eyes, he looked around, totally disoriented. He could not see, he could not hear and he smelled death. Death. All around him. On him. The smell of guts, the acrid smell of monsters, the smell of dead flesh. Inside him. The taste of bile, the taste of blood, the taste of tears. The pain. Around him, on him, in him. In his flesh, in his heart. The pain of some, the pain of others. The smell of nothing, the taste of the end. The memories. In him. The happy ones, the sad ones. The memory of the dead. Those of yesterday and today. His uncle, his father, and all those he had passed on the way back to the hut. That is, all of them. Because all of them were only memories. All of them! The children, the elders. All of them! All of them! All of them! Death, on him. In his hands. His brother's head, in his hands. Cold. Fallen on the side of the road, found between several heads. Those of children and elders. The head of his brother, of this brother he had abandoned, whom he had not saved. The head of his brother. Grimacing, bloody, with a cracked mask. The head of his protective big brother, who had comforted him with an "I love you" before sacrificing himself. His loving big brother, who, before throwing himself into the pit, had ordered him to find their mother. Their mother, whom they loved so much. Their mother, who would wake him up from this nightmare with a snap of her finger.

:''"I know that, my child, I know it so well…. By my lie, I wanted to protect you. To protect us. But in the end, the fate Ma-Duk has in store for you seems inevitable…. By naming Niï as the future Black Mask and Sacred Warrior, I thought I could reverse the course of things, in vain…. You are a nice boy Pü. You are so good. So make me lie. Free them from her. Then free yourself from him. In the hope of Happy Days…."