The city sprawled beneath me, a tangled web of lights and shadows, as if the universe itself had conspired to mock my despair. I stood precariously on the edge of a four-story building, the wind whipping around me with a cruel, biting chill. The moon hung low in the sky, its cold light a harsh contrast to the warmth that had long since left my life. Tonight, it would be my witness to the final act of my tragic story.

I was ready to leap into the void, driven by a soul-crushing weight of loss and abandonment. My parents had been taken from me in a cruel twist of fate, and the world had turned its back on me, labeling me a monster. In the silence of the night, with only the distant hum of the city to keep me company, I felt an eerie calm settle over me.

A voice, disembodied and chilling, cut through my thoughts. "So you're really going to end it all?" It was a haunting whisper, like the echo of my own despair. I glared at the moon, its indifferent glow a mocking reminder of everything I was about to leave behind. "At least I won't die alone," I replied bitterly. The voice in my head was a cruel product of my loneliness, a reminder of my isolation.

I felt the edge beneath me give way, and with a final, resigned breath, I jumped. The wind roared in my ears, a wild symphony of fear and regret. "Will anyone remember me?" I wondered as the ground rushed up to meet me. Then, amidst the chaos of my freefall, a new voice sliced through the maelstrom of my mind, commanding, "Open your eyes, my child."

I hesitated, then opened my eyes to a blinding light. Before me stood an ethereal figure, its form an unnerving blankness—neither male nor female, neither human nor beast. It radiated an otherworldly presence, both mesmerizing and terrifying. "You may call me the Author," it said, its voice imbued with an ancient gravitas that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of existence.

"The Author?" I echoed, the term feeling both foreign and disconcerting.

"Yes," the Author said with a calm that belied the gravity of the situation. "I am here to offer you a choice. Your soul will be transported to another world—a realm of dungeons and darkness, a twisted reflection of the fantastical realms you've only read about."

I stared at the figure, my mind struggling to grasp the enormity of what was being offered. "What's the catch?" I asked, my voice a ragged whisper.

The Author's featureless gaze seemed to penetrate my very essence. "You will become Jörmungandr, the world serpent—a being of immense power and terror, feared and revered."

"Why me?" I asked, my voice cracking with desperation.

"Consider yourself fortunate," the Author replied with a chilling detachment. "You have been chosen for a purpose beyond your understanding."

With a snap of its fingers, everything dissolved into darkness. When I came to, I was in a sterile hospital room, the harsh white lights casting an unforgiving glare. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion as memories of my former life crashed over me like relentless waves. Overwhelmed, I lost consciousness once more.

When I woke up again, a woman was by my side, her short brown hair framing a face streaked with tears. Her brown eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and relief, locked onto mine. "Kevin!" she cried out, her voice a desperate plea. She enveloped me in a tight embrace, her arms trembling. I could feel the warmth of her body, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness I had felt moments before. "Mother?" I whispered, the word tasting like a forgotten promise.

A doctor entered the room with a clinical efficiency that was almost jarring. "You've been discharged," he said, his tone neutral, as if discussing the weather rather than the traumatic events that had transpired.

I turned to my mother, my heart aching with the need for answers. "Where's Dad?" I asked, my voice trembling. Her gaze faltered, her eyes shifting away from mine as she mumbled about my father's death—a car accident that had happened when she was involved with another man. Her words were coated in a layer of guilt and avoidance.

As she spoke, the same sinister voice from before whispered in my mind, its tone dripping with malice, "Kill her."

The conflict between the malevolent command and my own swirling emotions created a tumultuous storm within me. The voice seemed to feed off my anguish and confusion, urging me towards an action that felt both repugnant and inevitable. My newfound powers and the dark forces within me were at odds with the lingering remnants of my humanity, setting the stage for a harrowing journey ahead.