Volume no.1 "Where Gods Do Not Walk:Lost Within Shadows"
Chapter 1: Shadow of the Past
Night pressed against the broken city like a slow, suffocating tide. Peter sat on the jagged remains of an old wall, the stone crumbling beneath his boots, and watched the ruins breathe in the cold air. Towers bent like wounded giants, streets sliced open by time, lights flickering far away as if fighting to stay alive.
He looked at the bench in the garden where he and his siblings had played many years ago, long before he had to face what remained of this world.
His gaze drifted toward the charred part of the garden. That was where his mother had planted every kind of flower—those with deep roots that could survive for years, and those that had to be dug up before winter because they couldn't endure the harsh weather.
Now, nothing hinted that such a place had ever existed here. The area had been burned and abandoned nearly eight years ago.
The monsters that tore their world apart were gone, their bodies buried under years of dust. But that hadn't brought people back. No one wanted to return to a place so cursed. And now, only he remained.
Remembering better times, Peter spotted a stuffed bear—burnt, with a torn ear and a shredded leg—yet still recognizable as the toy that had belonged to his youngest brother.
At the sight, Peter forced himself to lower his gaze. His eyes glossed over, but not a single tear fell. He had shed hundreds of thousands long ago. And he had promised himself that he would not mourn anymore—only bring justice to those who needed to face it.
He didn't know if he was still human. But somewhere inside the emptiness, a stubborn ember refused to die.
It wasn't noble purpose.
It wasn't heroic resolve. It was the simplest, dirtiest, cruelest desire, revenge.
"This isn't over,"
he thought.
"Not tonight."
He lowered his gaze. A man stood beside him—cloaked, silent, weathered by years of surviving where others broke. He had been mentor, friend, something close to family in a world that no longer allowed such bonds.
Peter exhaled once, steady and calm.
"I'm ready."
The old man studied him with eyes that had seen too much.
"Are you?"
His voice was gravel.
"Once you cross the rift, there is no returning. Ether doesn't forgive mistakes."
"I know,"
Peter said, his tone holding no doubt.
"But I've stayed here longer than I ever planned."
A faint, almost invisible smile touched the man's lips.
"Two hundred meters north. Between the river and the treeline. You'll see the glow."
Peter nodded.
"It's goodbye, then."
But before he could move, the man pulled him into an embrace—one Peter returned a heartbeat later. They stayed like that for a moment, both knowing they might never see each other again.
"Take care of yourself. Find allies if you must… but don't trust too easily."
"I learned that from you."
He responded, for the first time in a long while, his voice carried something like warmth.
"Until next time."
"Until next time,"
the old man echoed. When Peter disappeared around the corner, the man let out a breath that trembled under the weight of unspoken things.
"Good luck, son."
And the shadows swallowed him whole.
***
The scorched earth stretched like an old scar beneath Peter's steps. He moved without sound—his steps looked careless, but they weren't. The night wind shifted, brushing a strange pressure against his senses.
He stopped. To his right lay a clearing blackened by fire. Grass curled like burned pages. Trees stood as charcoal silhouettes. And in the center, the air was split open.
A rift—three meters tall, jagged as shattered glass—throbbed with a sick, pale glow. Mist coiled around it, restless and cold. Beyond the crack lay nothing but swirling fog… and the quiet promise of a world that devoured the unprepared.
Creatures had come through recently. Their scent lingered—sharp, acrid, warm. Fire-beasts, perhaps. The leader was still alive. Otherwise, the rift would have closed.
Peter approached until he felt the pull of the other side. He tilted his head, studying the anomaly with the detachment of someone who had already accepted whatever fate chose for him.
'About three meters… narrow… most likely second category,' he noted.
When he crosses the gap, on the other side he will achieve what he has been preparing for for a long time.
He was attempting something that humans called forced awakening.
It did not have a good reputation.
Most who attempted it were suicidal, mentally unstable, or desperate people with no understanding of what awaited them on the other side.
Humans who stepped through sometimes came back changed—stronger, faster, capable. Most didn't come back at all.
Peter belonged to none of these groups—and yet to all of them. And he wasn't sure which outcome he preferred.
He cast one final glance at the ruined horizon—the graves of his past—and whispered.
"Now or never."
He stepped forward.
Darkness swallowed light.
Sound fractured.
Smell collapsed, with gravity following soon after.
Something ancient stirred in the void, reaching for him. And then the world fell away.
Peter followed.