A sudden shift in the void—like reality folding in on itself—preceded her appearance.
She didn't descend. She manifested. One moment, the world was emptiness; the next, she was there—towering, radiant, immaculate. Her body shimmered with a light that bled into shadow, her eyes devoid of pupils, filled instead with a swirling white abyss.
I stepped back instinctively. Something was wrong. She looked human—but the longer I stared, the more distorted she became. Her limbs too fluid, her movements too perfect. Almost like a painting that moved just enough to unsettle.
—"Mortal," she said, her voice echoing not in the air, but inside my bones. "You have been chosen."
I couldn't respond. Not because I was stunned—but because the air itself thickened around my throat, like invisible fingers. My body locked in place, like prey before a predator.
—"This world festers in decay. Monsters roam freely. A king of rot rises from the underworld. And you..." Her head tilted with unnatural precision. "...will be our vessel of intervention."
"I—what? I didn't ask for this!"
Her smile widened—too wide. "Sacrifice does not require consent."
I took a step back. "Where are my friends?! What did you do to them?!"
Arka's expression didn't change. But the light around her grew harsh, slicing the void into jagged slivers.
—"Silence magic."
My voice was ripped from me—literally. I felt something tear inside my throat. I tried to scream, but only pain surged out.
—"Your first gift: Regeneration."
A burst of searing light struck my chest. I collapsed. My veins burned like fire coursing through them. Visions flickered—my body torn apart, limbs crushed, spine shattered… and always, always rebuilding.
—"You will endure every wound. You will feel every second of your suffering. But you will not die. You are not permitted the peace of unconsciousness."
My vision blurred. I curled on the void's floor, gasping. She wasn't giving a blessing—she was branding me.
—"Your second gift: Cloning."
Another pulse hit me. My shadow split into several shapes, each twitching erratically before fading. I felt… hollow. As if something vital had been copied from me and thrown into the dark.
I stared at her in horror.
—"This is not a gift!" I wanted to yell. But no sound came.
Arka crouched, eye to eye. Her face impossibly close, her presence suffocating.
—"You will understand in time. Or you won't. It's irrelevant."
Her hand touched my chest, and I convulsed.
—"Now go, Hero. Your suffering begins."
A sudden snap echoed, and reality collapsed.
And I fell.
The void shattered like glass, replaced by burning air and a scream of wind.
I slammed into hard ground, coughing violently. My lungs filled with something foul—dust, blood, ash.
The sky above was red. Not the red of a sunset—the red of violence, bleeding across clouds like a massacre painted on heaven.
The world was a carcass.
A dead wasteland stretched in all directions. No trees. No cities. Just sand, bones, and rusted steel half-buried in cracked earth.
Weapons. Skulls. Ashes.
I staggered to my feet.
—"What kind of hell is this…?"
My voice cracked under the weight of despair.
I walked aimlessly, praying to find shelter, reason, something.
Then came the sound.
A low, sickening rumble. Like a thousand jaws gnashing in sync.
They emerged from the horizon.
Monsters.
Too many to count. Some crawling, others slithering. Hulking chimeras—six, seven meters tall—flesh twisted into obscene parodies of life, jaws dislocated, eyes bulging with hunger and madness.
I didn't think.
I ran.
No plan. No goal. Just raw instinct.
My lungs burned. My legs screamed. But I didn't stop—not until the monsters were nothing but shadows behind me.
I collapsed near a half-buried structure—an old brick house, barely intact. The wind howled through shattered windows. The door hung off one hinge.
Shelter.
I forced my way inside. Dust. Decay. Silence.
Deeper in—a bathroom.
Two corpses.
A man. Slumped against the wall, arm curled around a swaddled infant.
My stomach churned.
The sword in the man's lap—old, rusted… but usable.
I took it with trembling hands.
—"I'm not dying without a fight."
I waited in the silence.
Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty.
Then I heard it.
Footsteps.
I peeked through the door crack.
A silhouette.
Tall. Coat fluttering. Wide-brimmed hat casting a deep shadow over his face. A saber at his side.
A gunslinger.
Our eyes met.
He unsheathed his saber in a blink, pointing it straight at me.
—"A human… here?"
The door exploded in two under his strike.
—"This zone's a dead sector. No settlements nearby. How are you alive?"
I froze.
—"Identify yourself. Now."
I hesitated.
—"Michael," I lied. "My name is Michael."
His grip tightened.
And without hesitation—
he severed my arm.
Agony tore through me like wildfire.
—"AGHHHH!!"
I collapsed, retching. My vision swam. Blood gushed across the floor.
But I didn't faint.
I couldn't.
—"What the hell—?! Why?!"
—"Because you're a threat. That name's not from here. Your clothes aren't from any settlement."
He raised his blade again.
—"Sorry, kid. Can't take chances."
I couldn't move. Couldn't think.
Just one question echoed in my broken mind:
Why?
The blade descended.
My head hit the ground. I saw it roll.
Darkness.
Silence.
Death.
…But then I breathed again.
Gasping. Clutching my body. My arm—whole. My head—intact.
No wounds. No scars. Nothing.
—"I died… didn't I?"
I stood up slowly, heart pounding.
But something had changed.
I was no longer in the wasteland.
I stood in the middle of a city.
But not my city.
The sky was dim, veiled by flickering neon. Towers loomed above, jagged and cruel. Digital ads glitched across colossal screens. The air smelled of ozone and rust.
Holograms danced in the air, speaking in a language I somehow understood.
This wasn't Tokyo. Or Shanghai.
This wasn't Earth.
I fell to my knees, trembling. Eyes wide. Breathing erratic.
—"No…"
—"I can't be in another world…"
But the truth was in every sound. Every light. Every impossible symbol.
This was real.
And I was alone.