The battlefield stretched endlessly, a wasteland of shattered earth and smouldering craters. The air crackled with leftover energy from countless clashes, and the scent of ash clung to every breath.
"This is your 299th time losing!" Varden shouted, his voice sharp and grating, echoing across the desolate field. His silver armour was dented and scorched, but his crimson sword still glowed with unyielding power. "Just give up already. Your death will be quick—painless, even!"
Rezekiel staggered but refused to fall. Blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, his charred armour barely clinging to his body. The weight of 298 failures hung over him like a storm cloud, but his eyes still burned with defiance.
"You think I fear death, Varden?" Rezekiel growled, tightening his grip on his sword hilt. "If I'm dying today, I'm dragging you down to the abyss with me!"
The two warriors lunged at each other, their battle cries shaking the earth.
Rezekiel roared in his mind, 'Thousand Sword Array!' Blades materialized around him, spectral and razor-sharp, their edges humming with ancient energy.
Varden's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Pathetic." He raised his hand, chanting low, dark syllables. 'Secret Arcane Arts IV.' A vortex of black fire and shadow engulfed him, swelling in size until it consumed half the battlefield.
The two powers collided in a blinding explosion of light and shadow. The shockwave ripped through the earth, splitting mountains in the distance and tearing the very sky apart.
As the light faded, only silence remained. Both warriors lay motionless, their bodies charred and broken. A single gust of wind carried pieces of their shattered weapons across the battlefield.
But even in death, Rezekiel's spirit would not rest.
Rezekiel's soul drifted into an endless void, untethered from time and space. The battlefield and his own mangled body were distant memories now, dissolving into the blackness.
"Is this it?" he thought, his voice echoing in the nothingness. "Is this what death feels like? After everything…"
Then, the void rippled.
A force unlike anything Rezekiel had ever felt pulled at him, dragging his soul forward. He struggled, but it was futile. The emptiness gave way to a blinding, searing light—a light that felt alive.
"Chosen," a voice boomed, disembodied and ancient. The word reverberated through his very essence. "You are not done yet."
Before Rezekiel could speak, the light surged forward, merging with his soul. Pain and power coursed through him, a thousand lifetimes of knowledge and energy flooding his very being. He screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the void.
Then, silence.
The next moment, Rezekiel was hurled into a wormhole, spinning endlessly through worlds and dimensions. The light inside him pulsed, growing stronger with every passing second. Just as suddenly, the darkness consumed him again.
★★★
In a hospital on Earth, Year 23XX, 8 p.m.,
"You've conceived two boys, although one was born irregularly, we are keeping them alive," the doctor said.
Two men were outside the room waiting for the doctor, Jack and Ray. "Doctor, how are the children?" Ray asked the moment the doctor walked out.
"More importantly who's the father?"
"Follow me," the doctor said. The two men walked off with the doctor.
★★★
The moment between 8 pm and 9 pm, in a room,
"Let me see the results!" Jack(Sylvia's husband) was broken to realize the children were not his and froze rage seething within him. "I am going outside for a smoke?"
"Sure"
"Jack don't try anything funny " Ray warned seeing Jack walking into the distance in the direction of the hospital entrance.
Jack's POV
Jack walked outside, his breath misting in the cool night air. His footsteps echoed along the dimly lit hospital path, the faint smell of rain in the breeze. He patted his jacket pockets. "Damn," he muttered, realizing he was out of cigarettes.
He turned toward the nearest convenience store, quickening his pace as the first drops of rain began to fall. The distant rumble of thunder followed.
The path ahead was dark, the streetlights flickering as though struggling to stay awake. Jack's thoughts churned. The revelation about the twins wasn't sitting right with him. Sylvia's betrayal, Ray's smugness—he clenched his fists. "Breathe, Jack. Just breathe," he whispered, but the rage clawed at him.
That's when he tripped.
The ground rushed up to meet him, but he never hit it. A pair of boots filled his vision, black and scuffed, standing inches from his face. Jack froze, looking up.
The man before him was cloaked in shadow, his features obscured. But his eyes—one a glowing, molten gold and the other a piercing icy blue—cut through the darkness like twin beacons. Jack shivered. The mismatched eyes seemed alive, swirling with something ancient and inhuman.
Jack scrambled backwards. "Who the hell are you? What do you want?"
The figure tilted its head, in an unnatural, jerking motion. When it spoke, two voices echoed from one mouth: one deep and gravelly, the other sharp and cold. "The question is not what I want... but what we need."
Jack blinked, unnerved by the emphasis on "we." His eyes darted back to the heterochromatic gaze, realizing the strange, shifting colours weren't random—they seemed to be watching him, analyzing him.
"What are you talking about?" Jack demanded, his voice shaking.
The figure didn't answer. Instead, it reached forward, its hand gripping Jack's throat like a vice. Energy—cold, searing, and suffocating—poured from the figure into Jack's body.
Jack's vision blurred. He gasped for air, but the energy kept coming, flooding his veins with an alien power. His body convulsed, his mind screaming as something else—someone else—entered him.
Through the haze of pain, Jack saw the figure's golden and blue eyes glowing brighter, locking onto his own. A strange sensation gripped him: the sinking realization that he was no longer alone in his own body.
The last thing Jack saw before losing consciousness was the figure collapsing lifelessly to the ground. His own body, now standing, turned toward the hospital. His lips twisted into a smile that wasn't his own.
After some time, 'Jack' reached the hospital and passed through the room Ray and the doctor were in, headed to the room where Rezekiel and Varden were kept. The doctor told Ray that Jack was headed for the children.
After Jack left, the doctor told Ray that Jack hadn't read all the results correctly and that one of the children was his while the other was Ray's. The doctor continued explaining to him that he didn't know how it happened, but it had never been seen before, and another test would need to be conducted the following morning.
★★★
In a room in the hospital, 9 p.m.,
The hum of machines and the faint beeping of monitors filled the hospital room. Rezekiel stirred, his tiny body wriggling against the warmth of the hospital bed. His mind was a jumbled mess of memories—flashes of battle, the searing pain of his death, and the infinite darkness of the void.
Then, his eyes snapped open.
"This... isn't right," he thought. The world felt off—smaller, fragile. His limbs were weak, his movements clumsy. The sterile scent of the room assaulted his senses, and the unfamiliar weight of an infant's body pressed down on him.
"I've... reincarnated," he realized. A surge of emotions hit him—relief, confusion, and a lingering sense of dread.
Before he could process further, the air in the room shifted. It was subtle at first, like the weight of a storm pressing down on his chest. Then, it grew heavier, suffocating, and filled with unmistakable malice.
The door creaked open.
Jack—no, the thing inside Jack—stepped into the room, his figure framed by the flickering hallway lights. His footsteps were slow and deliberate, each one echoing like the ticking of a clock counting down.
Rezekiel's new, underdeveloped body shivered instinctively. He didn't know what this man was, but the aura of death around him was suffocating.
In Jack's hand, a knife gleamed under the fluorescent lights, its edge catching the faintest glint of red. His eyes, now eerily calm, scanned the room before settling on the cribs.
A low chuckle escaped his lips—cold, guttural, and inhuman. "This is it," he murmured, his dual voices sending shivers through the air. "If I can kill them both, the plan will be complete."
Rezekiel's mind raced. "Kill? Us? Why?" The answer didn't come, but his instincts screamed danger. His thoughts were interrupted by the door slamming open.
"Jack! Stop it!" Ray's voice boomed, raw with desperation. He lunged at Jack, his fists colliding with the man's shoulder in an attempt to knock him down.
But Jack barely flinched. Instead, he turned his head slowly, his lips curling into a smile that didn't belong to him. "Ah, Ray. Always in the way."
With unnatural speed, Jack sidestepped Ray's next punch and countered with a brutal elbow to his stomach. Ray staggered back, clutching his side, but he didn't give up. He rushed forward again, this time managing to tackle Jack to the ground.
The knife clattered to the floor, sliding dangerously close to the cribs.
Rezekiel watched from his crib, helpless but fully aware of the chaos around him. His new body refused to move the way he needed it to, but his mind burned with frustration. "Move! I can't die again—not like this!"
Jack's possessed body twisted unnaturally, his arms bending at odd angles to shove Ray off with inhuman strength. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the knife and lunged toward the cribs.
The blade plunged, its tip aimed at the nearest infant. Varden—the other soul trapped in a newborn's body—let out a strangled cry. The knife struck true, piercing Varden's tiny chest. His cries stopped, replaced by the faint gurgle of blood.
Rezekiel's vision blurred as rage boiled inside him. "No... Not again. I refuse to let this happen again!"
The door burst open, nurses and doctors flooding in, their voices panicked as they tried to stop the chaos. Jack swung the blade in a wide arc, forcing everyone back. Blood dripped from the knife, staining the sterile floor.
Ray, clutching his side, mustered his strength and tackled Jack again. The two brawled, fists flying and bodies colliding with the walls. In the chaos, Jack's glowing eyes locked onto Rezekiel.
The blade flew.
Rezekiel felt the sharp sting of the knife piercing his chest. His tiny body convulsed as blood pooled around him, the warmth of life slipping away once more.
Jack stood still, his chest heaving, blood splattered across his face. His glowing eyes flickered briefly before returning to normal. The inhuman grin faded, replaced by confusion. "What... what happened?" he muttered, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of guards storming into the room.
They tackled him to the ground, forcing his arms behind his back as he laughed—a cold, broken sound. His eyes glowed yellow for a brief moment before fading entirely.
Ray rushed to the cribs, his hands trembling as he cradled Rezekiel's and Varden's lifeless bodies. Tears streamed down his face as he turned toward Sylvia's room.
★★★
In Sylvia's room in the hospital,
Sylvia sat by the hospital window, her gaze fixed on the storm raging beyond the glass. Rain cascaded down in uneven streaks, creating a distorted, chaotic reflection of her pale face. Her tired eyes stared past the city lights, beyond the storm clouds, as if searching for something she couldn't name.
The air around her grew still. The hum of machines faded into the background, replaced by a strange, pulsing vibration that only she seemed to feel. A chill crept through her body, raising goosebumps on her skin.
She pressed her hand to her chest, her fingers trembling. "What is this feeling? It's... suffocating." Her voice was faint, her breath shallow.
A sudden sharp pain pierced through her head. She gasped, clutching her temples, her vision flickering in and out of focus. For a brief moment, the room dimmed—or perhaps it was her senses fading. When she opened her eyes again, the world seemed brighter... sharper.
In the faint reflection of the glass, her eyes were no longer her own.
They glowed with a soft, pure white light, pulsing faintly like the steady beat of a heart. The light wasn't harsh or blinding, but it carried an unearthly radiance that seemed to reach beyond the physical. The sterile hospital room around her seemed to bend under its weight as if responding to an unseen presence.
Her lips moved on their own, her voice carrying a tone far more certain than her earlier fear: "A storm is coming... one that will rend the heavens and reshape the earth."
The thunder outside roared in answer. The hospital room quaked lightly, and Sylvia's glowing eyes stared blankly into the void, unseeing yet knowing.
Her hand slipped from her chest, her body growing limp. The white glow in her eyes brightened for a moment, illuminating the entire room in a ghostly radiance, then vanished altogether. The faint echoes of her words seemed to linger in the air, overlapping with the mechanical wails of her heart monitor as her body collapsed onto the bed.
The machines blared. Nurses rushed into the room, shouting orders, but Sylvia remained still—her face serene, almost otherworldly, as though she'd glimpsed something beyond the veil of mortal understanding.
Outside, the storm intensified. Lightning painted jagged scars across the night sky, and the earth trembled with a low, ominous rumble. The city lights flickered, plunging parts of the horizon into brief darkness.
Far beyond the hospital, in realms unseen, the balance of power had begun to shift.
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