The city never slept. A sea of neon bathed the streets, flickering in the rain like dying embers in a storm. Towering buildings stretched endlessly into the smog-covered sky, their surfaces lined with massive holographic ads. Cars hovered in silent streams above, their lights tracing streaks of white and red across the night.

Beneath it all, in the labyrinth of rusted metal walkways and crumbling tenements, a boy ran.

Kaito's breath came in sharp, ragged bursts. His boots splashed through the dirty puddles as he wove through the narrow alleyways. Behind him, the footsteps of the enforcers—the Sentinels—echoed like gunfire against the metal walls. Their sleek, black armor blended into the shadows, but their crimson visors shone like predators locked onto their prey.

He had no idea what they wanted. No idea why they were after him. But he knew one thing—if they caught him, he wouldn't be coming back.

He vaulted over a rusted railing, landing hard on a rooftop. His arms screamed from exhaustion, his body pushed beyond its limits. But the Sentinels weren't slowing down. Unlike him, they didn't get tired. Unlike him, they weren't human.

Kaito ducked into a ventilation shaft, pressing himself against the cold metal, trying to steady his breathing. The Sentinels' voices crackled through their comms.

"Subject lost. Expanding search grid."

A long silence followed.

Then, the mechanical whirring of drones faded into the distance.

He exhaled, letting his body go limp for a moment. His heart was still hammering against his ribs, but at least he was alive.

Why me?

Kaito wasn't special. Just another nameless kid scraping by in the underbelly of Aether-9, one of the last great cities on Earth. A world ruled by immortals—the Ascended.

No one knew where they came from. No one knew how long they had lived. To the people, they were gods wrapped in steel and circuits, beings who had conquered time itself. Some saw them as saviors, others as tyrants.

But Kaito didn't care about any of that. He was too busy surviving.

And yet… somehow, they cared about him.

The next morning, the rain had stopped, leaving behind streets glistening under artificial sunlight. Kaito sat on a rusted fire escape, a half-eaten protein bar in his hand, watching the world move beneath him.

The marketplace was alive with noise—vendors shouting, neon signs buzzing, the occasional blaring siren from enforcer patrols. Humans and cyborgs moved side by side, some with artificial limbs, others with neural implants glowing behind their eyes. It was normal. Routine.

But Kaito's life had never been normal.

Ever since he could remember, he had felt different. Like something was missing—something everyone else had, but he didn't. He couldn't explain it. A void, deep inside him, pulling at his thoughts like an unseen force.

Then, there were the dreams.

Visions of a time before the neon streets. A time before the Ascended.

A world where the sky was blue.

No one talked about the past. No one even remembered the past. History wasn't taught in schools. People were born, they lived, they worked, and they died. That was the way of things. The immortals ruled, and everyone else obeyed.

And yet, in the corners of the city, hidden among the forgotten ruins, there were whispers.

Whispers of a book.

A book that held knowledge of the time before.

A book that could answer the one question no one dared to ask.

Where did the immortals come from?

Kaito never believed in fairy tales. But after last night—after being hunted down for no reason—he wasn't so sure anymore.

Something was happening.

Something big.

And he was at the center of it.

That night, Kaito found himself wandering the outskirts of the city, past the glowing skyscrapers and into the ruins that stretched beyond them. This was the Fringe, where the city met the wastelands. The Ascended didn't care about this place. No drones. No patrols.

Just silence.

He moved carefully, stepping over rusted pipes and shattered glass. He had heard rumors—whispers passed between smugglers and scavengers. Stories of a ruined temple, deep within the Fringe.

A temple that wasn't supposed to exist.

After an hour of walking, he found it.

Hidden beneath layers of rubble and overgrowth, the entrance was barely visible. A massive steel door, rusted and worn with time. Strange symbols lined its surface—symbols that looked old, far older than anything in the city.

His pulse quickened.

He reached out, running his fingers over the cold metal.

Then—

A faint hum.

The ground trembled.

And slowly, the door opened.

Cold air rushed out, carrying the scent of dust and something else—something ancient.

Kaito hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back. To run.

But he couldn't.

Because deep inside, for the first time in his life, he knew.

This was where he was meant to be.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

And the door sealed shut behind him.

The room was massive, stretching into darkness, the walls lined with shattered screens and rusted consoles. At the center stood a pedestal, bathed in a dim blue light.

And on it—

A book.

It was old. Bound in thick leather, its surface covered in strange markings, glowing faintly in the darkness.

Kaito swallowed hard.

He reached out, fingertips brushing against the cover.

And the moment he touched it—

The world changed.

Visions. Images flashing through his mind like lightning.

A world before the neon. Before the immortals. Before everything.

People screaming. Cities burning. A war, raging across the stars.

Then—

A single figure, standing above it all.

The First Immortal.

His face was blurred, lost in the chaos of time. But his voice—deep, powerful—echoed through Kaito's soul.

"You were never meant to remember."

Then—silence.

Kaito gasped, stumbling backward, his breath ragged. The visions faded, leaving only the cold, empty room around him.

The book lay in his hands, its glow dimming.

But something had changed.

Because now, he remembered.

And the world would never be the same again.