The world was dying.
Shiro Kaname stood at the center of a battlefield that stretched beyond the horizon, surrounded by what remained of his homeland. The great city of Azrath—once a beacon of magic, home to scholars, warriors, and dreamers—was now reduced to nothing more than a graveyard of ruins and fire. The towering spires that once reached for the heavens had crumbled into dust. The once-proud streets, paved with enchanted stones that glowed under the moonlight, were now drenched in blood.
He staggered forward, his breath ragged, his body on the verge of collapse. His left arm was useless, shattered by a previous attack, and deep gashes covered his body. His magic reserves were nearly drained, but he had no choice but to keep fighting.
Above him, the Devouring Void loomed.
It was not a being of flesh, nor one of magic. It was something far worse—a living nothingness, an abyss given form. Shiro couldn't even look directly at it without feeling his mind unravel. It had no fixed shape; its form constantly twisted and shifted, like a black hole devouring all light and reason.
And yet, its voice was cruelly clear.
— "Your struggle is meaningless, Shiro Kaname."
The voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, sending chills down his spine.
Shiro gritted his teeth.
— "Maybe it is… but I refuse to give up."
He lifted his remaining arm and traced a magic circle in the air. The ancient runes blazed to life, shining with a golden brilliance that defied the suffocating darkness surrounding him. It was a sealing spell, a last-ditch effort to trap the Void, even if it meant sacrificing himself in the process.
But before he could finish, the entity lashed out.
A spear of pure darkness shot toward him. He tried to dodge, but his body was too slow, too weak. The spear pierced his chest, and pain unlike anything he had ever known spread through his veins. His vision blurred.
He fell to his knees, coughing blood.
The world around him was fading. Not just dying—erasing itself from existence.
The ground cracked and crumbled into nothingness. The sky itself fractured like shattered glass. Time and space warped, folding in on themselves.
This was the end.
And yet… Shiro still refused to let it be his end.
Even as his strength faded, he reached deep within himself, searching for the last remnants of his magic. He couldn't save this world, but perhaps… just perhaps… he could escape it.
Through sheer willpower, he forced his bloodied fingers to move, tracing one last spell in the air. A spell that no mage had ever dared to use.
The Forbidden Reincarnation.
The runes shimmered, pulsing with unstable energy. This spell was not meant for humans—it was an abomination against the natural order. But right now, Shiro didn't care.
The Devouring Void watched him with something almost resembling amusement.
— "You cannot escape me, mage."
Shiro smiled weakly, blood dripping from his lips.
— "Then come and find me."
With those final words, the magic circle exploded in a burst of white light, and Shiro Kaname vanished.
Silence.
An endless, infinite void.
For what felt like an eternity, Shiro drifted in nothingness. He had no body, no form—just consciousness floating in an ocean without beginning or end.
Was he dead? Had the spell failed?
Then, slowly, something changed. A warmth spread through him, soft and unfamiliar. His senses, dulled by oblivion, slowly returned.
He felt… something beneath him. Grass.
The scent of flowers filled the air. A cool breeze brushed against his skin.
And then—light.
Shiro's eyes fluttered open.
Above him stretched an endless blue sky, unmarred by war or destruction. White clouds drifted lazily in the wind, and the distant sound of birds chirping reached his ears.
For a long moment, he simply lay there, staring in disbelief.
He was… alive.
He turned his head slightly, feeling soft blades of grass brushing against his cheek. He was in a meadow—a vast, open field bathed in golden sunlight. Rolling green hills stretched as far as he could see, dotted with wildflowers of colors he didn't recognize.
His heart pounded.
His spell had worked.
But then, a new thought hit him—what kind of body had he been reborn into?
He pushed himself up, his hands trembling. The sensation was unfamiliar—his fingers were slimmer, his movements lighter. Slowly, cautiously, he looked down at himself.
And froze.
His clothes were completely different. Instead of his battle-worn mage robes, he was wearing a simple white tunic and black trousers. His body felt strangely youthful—his muscles lean, but unfamiliar.
He reached up and grabbed a strand of his hair, pulling it into his vision.
Black.
Not white.
A cold realization settled in his stomach.
He hadn't just survived—he had been reborn into a different world
Panic surged through him. He clenched his fists, trying to
— He was in a new world.
— He was in a new body.
— The Devouring Void might still be after him.
He forced himself to breathe deeply. He needed information.
Shiro scanned the horizon. In the far distance, past the rolling fields, he spotted something—a village. Small, but alive. Smoke curled gently from chimneys, and figures moved between wooden buildings.
A surge of relief mixed with tension.
If he was lucky, this was just an ordinary world, untouched by cosmic horrors. If he was unlucky… then the Void would still be hunting him.
Either way, he couldn't stay here. He needed to learn more.
With one last glance at the endless blue sky, he took a deep breath and started walking toward the village