A pale-skinned, short, young man wearing a black t-shirt and black sweatpants with visible dirt and stains on them with messy, medium-length black hair and black eyes with circles under his eyes and is obviously tired, standing in front of a tall building with vibrant lighting, he sighed and entered the building. The interior was breathtaking. He went to the secretary, dressed in a black suit and short yet formal clothes and light makeup with tall eyelashes on. "Hello, how may I help you?" beamed the secretary with a bright smile. The young man responded in a frail voice, "I think I might have been overwritten.".
The secretary stared and then asked with fear, "Are you sure? Do you have the signs?"
Replied the young man, "Yes, everything around me is unfamiliar, and I have experienced headaches that make me go into a trance state between our reality and a seemingly parallel one."
The secretary, seemingly panicking, ran to the phone lying on the desk where she stood behind and dialed a number, then a pair of buff men in suits and serious expressions escorted the young man out.
The men took him to a dimly lit room where an old man entered with gray hair and black eyes wearing a formal suit,to talk to the young man.
"Hello, my name is Richard. What is yours, young man?"
Said with a smile Replied the young man with a hesitant tone;
"My name is Lunar." the old man replied with a serious tone, the smile turning a bit bitter,
"Well, Lunar, I think you already know the story."
A long silence followed, then Richard continued,
"40 years ago monsters started appearing seemingly out of thin air; humans called writers started appearing,people who had mysterious books that allowed them to hace supernatural power but at a cost these were,people who got their fate and soul overwritten they started fighting these monsters who had cursed books and about 20 years ago we reached the 2nd tier,about ten years ago we reached the 3rd tier if you're lucky you'll get an easy task if not you'll have to kill an abomination. "
The young man named Lunar let out a sigh and replied, seemingly losing all hope,
"Thank you for everything, sir, and I hope that if I wake up, I'll get to see you again as a writer." The old man replied with a soft smile, "I wish that too, but you're about to enter the trail.Either way, I have to leave; see you after the trial, lunar my boy."
The young man started glowing with a faint light and closed his eyes, falling into the written world were all the soul books were altered. He woke up a short while later in the middle of a wide, cold mountain with its peak in sight, a different body, and the frostbite starting to catch up to him. The cold going down his spine and a blizzard approaching. He heard voices of howling wolves, but they didn't sound normal, but then he studied his body. He was in the body of a lean young boy, not looking over 14 years of age. He had looked To be starved and dehydrated, his frail, short body getting colder by the with white hair and with the moment and closer to death, the howling keeps getting louder and closer. He started to run buy a pack of wolves, their sizes as big and fearsome as lions and looking like wolves and having teeth full of blood.Their eyes were full of bloodlust, and their fur stained by blood looked like it was fresh. The pack started circling around the boy, fear entering the deepest part of his soul. Mortified, the wolf attacked him and ripped his hand off, and then another wolf Ripped his leg, and the wolves started ripping his limbs apart in a gluttonous manner with his weak screams echoing throughout the mountains, fading by the second. He couldn't speak, couldn't walk because he had no legs, couldn't stop the bleeding because he had no hands to tighten a cloth, left bleeding on the snow with the blizzard fading. He refused to die; he couldn't. Who would take care of her? Who could take care of her? Thinking of his mother in the hospital, who is going to die, he refused to die. He couldn't; he had to do it for his mother. He persevered through the pain, waiting, hoping for a miracle while dying, but just then the moonlight touched his mangled body, and he felt a surge of power, unimaginable power. His limbs started to regrow in a graphical, gross way. With the pain fading,when his limbs were fully regrown, he stood up, the cold disappearing as if he had made a void between him and the cold. Lunar focused all the heat in his body to his hand as a book with a radiant black void and started appearing in his hand titled Cosmic Void.