Darkness.
That was all Arin could see. A suffocating void surrounded him—no light, no sound, no time. He stood frozen, heart pounding in the silence.
"Where am I…?" he muttered, his voice echoing strangely into the nothingness.
Suddenly, something stirred. From the shadows ahead, a throne began to take form—slowly, ominously—like the darkness itself was sculpting it. A cold shiver ran down Arin's spine.
Then… he appeared.
A figure—shrouded in swirling black mist—sat upon the throne. His presence was heavy, ancient, and terrifyingly calm.
"Who are you?" Arin demanded, taking a cautious step forward. "Where am I?"
"You are in the realm of darkness," the figure replied, voice deep and commanding. "And I am the Emperor of Darkness."
Arin's breath caught in his throat.
"I chose you," the Emperor continued, leaning slightly forward, "to inherit my legacy."
Arin's eyes widened. "What legacy?"
The Emperor pointed directly at him, his words thunderous yet whispering through his mind.
"Your desire for revenge… your rage… your pain. You will become the next Emperor of Darkness."
The moment he spoke those words, the figure and the throne began to dissolve into mist—vanishing without a trace, leaving Arin alone once more.
Then—reality snapped back.
He gasped, now standing in his dimly lit room. His hand trembled as he reached into the cupboard and pulled out a strange brown lens. The moment he touched it, pain surged through his skull. He dropped to his knees, clutching his head as his eyes flickered—glowing red for a split second.
Then silence.
Arin rose slowly. His eyes, now cold and gleaming crimson, reflected something different. Something dark. A wicked smile crept onto his lips.
"I'll become the next Emperor of Darkness…" he whispered, voice like a growl. "And I'll have my revenge."
A sudden jolt.
He woke up in bed—sweating, breath shaky. But this wasn't a dream. Not really.
His eyes darted to the wall.
"December 6…?" he murmured. "The World of Snow begins on January 6. Four P.M."
It hit him like a thunderclap.
"I've come back. I've reincarnated… one month before it all begins."
Without wasting a second, Arin threw on his jacket and stormed out of his apartment. He knew who he had to see first.
Ayric was just outside the building when Arin called out.
"Ayric!"
Ayric turned, startled. "Arin?"
Minutes later, they stood on the rooftop terrace, wind tugging at their clothes, the city still untouched by snow. Ayric crossed his arms.
"Why'd you bring me up here?"
Arin's face was dead serious.
"I came back in time. I've seen the future."
Ayric laughed. "Are you serious? That's crazy!"
Arin didn't laugh. Instead, he looked at his watch.
"In thirty seconds, the President of China will die of a heart attack."
Ayric raised an eyebrow. "What—?"
He pulled out his phone. A few seconds ticked by.
BREAKING NEWS: President of China dies from heart attack.
Ayric stared at the screen, his jaw dropping.
"How did you know that?!"
Arin turned to him, calm and cold. "I told you. I came from the future."
The two stood in silence, the weight of Arin's words beginning to sink in. Arin looked out over the city.
"I need to tell you everything that happened… in the future."
His voice grew dark as he spoke, and with each word, the shadows seemed to creep closer.
"My girlfriend… Lysia. She cheated on me with Noric. Kaelin helped them. They tied me up. Mocked me. Then they killed me."
Ayric was stunned. "What…? They did that to you?"
"Yes," Arin said through gritted teeth. "But that's not all."
His voice softened, and the memories flooded back.
"On January 6th, the world changes forever."
He closed his eyes, remembering the horror: cities buried in snow, streets empty and broken, the silence of a dying world.
"One month later, 99% of humanity starves to death."
Ayric looked sick. "And the rest…?"
Arin's red eyes gleamed.
"The remaining 1%… they awaken. They gain powers—inhuman powers."
Ayric took a step forward. "Then we need to prepare. Right now."
Arin nodded.
"We start by storing food. I have a plan."
And with that, their fight for survival began.
