Darkness enveloped the campus as Riku Kiyomori stood at the threshold of an abandoned lecture hall, the frigid wind biting through his hoodie. The air inside was stale, carrying the scent of rotting wood and mildew, yet it wasn't enough to mask the faint metallic tang that sent shivers down his spine. He gripped the flashlight tighter, its flickering beam illuminating rows of shattered desks and graffiti-stained walls.
In the center of the room, resting atop a stone pedestal, was the artifact he had been chasing: The God-Severing Shard.
It looked unremarkable at first—a jagged piece of black crystal no larger than his palm. But as Riku stepped closer, the air grew heavier, as though reality itself recoiled from the object's presence. Whispers began to echo in his ears, faint and unintelligible, yet tantalizingly close to words. He swallowed hard, his curiosity battling with the primal instinct to run.
"This is it…" he murmured, his voice shaky.
For years, Riku had obsessed over urban legends and conspiracy theories, delving into the macabre as a way to escape his mundane existence. Stories about the Shard were scattered across forgotten forums and obscure books, all claiming it was a fragment of some ancient relic capable of severing the ties between gods and mortals. Those who sought it never returned—or so the tales went.
"Just a stupid rock," Riku muttered, forcing a smirk. "Nothing to be scared of."
Yet, as he reached out, the whispers grew louder. His fingers brushed the shard's surface, and the world dissolved.
Riku's body fell limp to the floor, but his mind… his mind was somewhere else.
He stood in an endless void, his feet submerged in shallow, silver water that rippled with each step. Above him, a churning mass of black clouds stretched infinitely, pierced only by jagged streaks of white lightning.
"Do you seek power, mortal?"
The voice was everywhere and nowhere, deep and resonant, as though the void itself spoke. Riku spun around, his heart pounding. "Who's there?!"
From the shadows emerged a figure draped in robes that seemed woven from the night itself. Their face was obscured by a mask of shifting patterns, but their eyes burned like twin suns. In their hand, they held a blade—a perfect, glowing fragment that seemed to hum with restrained chaos.
"You have touched the Shard," the figure intoned, their voice devoid of emotion. "And now, you must pay the price."
"I—I didn't know—" Riku stammered, stepping back.
"Lies," the figure interrupted, raising the blade. "You sought this moment. You chased it. Now it claims you."
The blade plunged downward, and Riku screamed as searing pain coursed through his chest. He fell to his knees, clutching his heart as something within him began to unravel. Memories, emotions, and fragments of his very being spiraled into the void.
But just as he felt himself slipping away, another voice echoed—this one softer, yet commanding.
"Enough."
The figure froze, their blade halted mid-strike. The void trembled as a second figure stepped forward, this one draped in crimson, their presence radiating both warmth and menace.
"You would destroy him before his potential is realized?" the crimson figure asked, their tone mocking. "How quaint."
"This mortal is an anomaly," the masked figure hissed. "He must be erased."
"And yet, anomalies are what this broken world needs," the crimson figure replied, kneeling before Riku. They cupped his face, their touch cold yet grounding. "Do you wish to live, child?"
Riku nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face.
"Good," the crimson figure said with a smirk. "Then consider this your curse and your blessing."
They placed a hand over Riku's chest, and a surge of energy unlike anything he had ever known tore through him. He gasped as his body convulsed, every nerve alight with power and agony. When the pain subsided, he looked down to see a dark sigil burned into his chest—a shifting, ever-changing mark that pulsed like a second heartbeat.
"What… what did you do to me?" he whispered.
The crimson figure stood, their expression unreadable. "I gave you a gift. Use it wisely—or don't. Either way, your journey begins now."
The void shattered like glass, and Riku fell into an endless abyss.
...
Riku woke with a start, gasping for air. He was no longer in the lecture hall. The sky above him was a kaleidoscope of shifting colors, and the ground beneath him was made of smooth, iridescent stone.
In the distance, a massive city loomed, its spires reaching into the heavens, its streets alive with creatures and beings beyond imagination.
"Where… am I?" he whispered, staggering to his feet.
Before he could take another step, a blade shot past his face, embedding itself into the ground.
"Found you," a voice drawled.
Riku turned to see a figure perched on a nearby rock, their eyes gleaming with amusement. They were dressed in dark armor that shimmered like oil, a crooked grin on their face.
"Congratulations, anomaly," they said, drawing another blade. "You're worth a lot of money dead."
As the figure lunged, Riku's body moved on instinct. Shadows coiled around him, and the sigil on his chest flared to life. For the first time, he felt the power within him—wild, chaotic, and utterly intoxicating.
And in that moment, Riku realized two things:
He wasn't on Earth anymore.
And he wasn't the same person he used to be.