Rain tapped gently against the windowpane of a cramped Tokyo apartment.
Neon lights painted streaks of color across the wet glass—hazy blues, flashing reds, a city that never truly slept. Inside, the only sound was the low hum of a laptop and the gentle slurp of half-forgotten ramen.
Aeron Kuro sat hunched at his desk. Twenty-three. A quiet prodigy in software engineering. Razor-sharp mind, unassuming demeanor. He never made waves, never needed to.
He liked silence. Mythology. Late nights and logical puzzles. The sound of rain made him feel less alone.
Books were stacked high—some about AI systems, others about forgotten mythologies. A cracked mug of green tea cooled beside a tangled set of headphones. His life was a careful balance of routine and solitude.
But tonight, something was… wrong.
His screen flickered. A shiver crept down his spine.
He glanced over his shoulder. Nothing.
Just the city below, flickering like a dream behind the glass.
He stood slowly, stretching, cracking his neck. His muscles ached from hours at the desk.
Outside, traffic moved sluggishly beneath the drizzle. A neon sign blinked erratically. His reflection in the window looked distorted—eyes a little too shadowed, the streetlight cutting across his face like a scar.
Then he saw it.
A figure. Across the street. Unmoving. Watching.
Umbrella tilted just wrong. Face shadowed.
Aeron narrowed his eyes. The figure was gone.
He shook his head.
"Too much caffeine," he muttered.
He didn't notice the red dot on his chest.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown Caller.
He didn't answer.
The dot vanished.
A silent crack.
The window shattered.
Pain bloomed—bright, blinding. Something hot tore through his chest.
He staggered back, gasping. Blood soaked his hoodie.
He collapsed, eyes wide. Heart racing. Breathing ragged.
He'd been shot.
Not a mugging. Not a robbery.
A hit.
Someone wanted him dead.
His vision dimmed. The cold crept in.
He struggled to speak. "Wh...why?"
The city became a blur.
Then—nothing.
But death… was not the end.
It was the threshold.
There was no light. No tunnel.
Only silence.
And then, void.
Infinite. Heavy. Timeless.
Aeron floated. Or maybe he sank. It was impossible to tell.
Then came the voice.
It did not echo. It did not shout.
It existed.
"You are not forgotten, Aeron Kuro."
Aeron's eyes opened—but saw only stars.
"You were never meant to die there."
The voice was old. Older than time. It reverberated in a way that bypassed the ear and struck the soul.
"Your world was but a stepping stone. A necessary lie."
"Why... me?" Aeron whispered. His voice didn't carry, but the being heard him anyway.
"You do not carry the soul of a king. Not in the way the ancients did."
"You are fracture-born. You carry the embers of what was sealed."
Aeron's body dissolved into light—fragments of him, drawn outward like fireflies.
"You were chosen not because of who you are... but because of what lies buried within your blood."
Then—images.
Burning cities. Towers made of bone. A man cloaked in shadows wielding a blade that split mountains.
Twelve thrones around a ring of flame.
A single throne… shattered.
"A legacy was buried. A name erased. But the world has begun to crack again."
"Rise, Aeron Nightveil."
The voice grew distant… or perhaps deeper.
"The Sovereigns sleep above the world. But beyond even them… lies a realm forgotten."
"You must not awaken it. But you must walk its path."
Aeron felt his soul tear in two—half cast into fate, half anchored in mystery.
"No quests. No guidance. No safety."
"This will be your journey. And it will break you."
"But from what breaks... something greater may rise."
A final whisper echoed through the void:
"Even Sovereigns bow before what lies beyond."
Then, light.
But not warm.
Raw. Ethereal. Wild.
The fragments of Aeron twisted, reformed, reshaped by unknown forces. They were stitching a soul into something new. Ancient threads woven through fresh skin.
A sky unfolded above.
Not one, but two moons hung overhead—silent and silver.
A forest breathed around him. Wind carried the scent of wild magic and old blood.
A baby's cry pierced the night.