---
> "Riyan, promise me… if I'm not around… you'll live. Make friends. Be happy."
His voice was always calm, even when he was coughing blood into a rag he thought I couldn't see.
Kairon Solas. My grandfather. My only family.
He worked every day in a metal factory — his hands cracked and scarred, his back bent from years of carrying heavy steel. He wore the same patched-up jacket through every season, even when the sleeves fell apart.
The world ignored us. But he never did.
> "You're not cursed, Riyan," he told me once, staring at the sky after another long shift. "You're a seed. One day, you'll bloom."
---
I woke up to the shrill cry of a nurse.
White walls. The sharp, sterile smell of antiseptic. The beeping of monitors.
Cold air scraped against my skin, making me shiver under the thin hospital blanket.
> "Doctor! He's awake!" the nurse screamed, her voice both panicked and amazed.
My eyelids felt heavy, like stone. Every breath was a struggle.
Memories rushed back in sharp, broken fragments — the crater, the icy air, crawling to the gates before collapsing.
I remembered soldiers' voices, echoing in my ears as they dragged me away. The sensation of hands under my arms, the roughness of metal floors… and then nothing.
I was sure I had died again.
But I hadn't.
I was alive.
Not just alive… but awake.
> After two years.
---
A tall man entered my room, his uniform crisp and decorated with pins. Behind him stood two officers in black coats, their expressions unreadable.
One stepped forward, eyes sharp like a hawk's.
> "Where did you come from?"
"Did you escape from the crater site?"
"Were you inside… since the meteor hit?"
Their questions slammed into me before I could even sit up. My mouth felt dry.
I swallowed hard and forced the words out.
> "I… I was on a train. There was a meteor… I think it hit us. Then… I woke up there. In the crater."
Their eyes flickered between each other. Confusion. Suspicion.
The doctor, a thin man with tired eyes and trembling hands, stepped closer.
> "Do you understand what you're saying?" he whispered. "That meteor… it landed two years ago."
My heart dropped into my stomach.
> Two years? How is that possible?
I looked at my hands, turning them slowly. They looked the same. But they weren't. Something deep inside me had shifted, and I could feel it pulsing under my skin.
---
Outside the hospital, chaos waited for me.
Reporters swarmed the gates like hungry crows, microphones and cameras pointed in every direction. Drones buzzed overhead, their red lights blinking like watchful eyes.
News vans lined the entire street.
> "Boy Who Survived the Null Stone!"
"Miracle or Monster?"
"The Living Fossil!"
They called me a hero. A liar. An alien. A curse.
I watched from the window, unable to move, my chest heavy with a familiar tightness.
Then a black car rolled up to the curb. Sleek, armored, its metal frame gleaming under the sun.
Everyone turned.
Out stepped a man wearing a long coat lined with glowing runes, his hair slicked back, his gaze icy and sharp. A top Hunter — the type shown in interviews, praised as humanity's saviors.
He entered my room, scanned me with a cold, calculating stare, and then checked his tablet.
A tense silence.
> "This boy… was listed as dead," he finally said.
He didn't look surprised. Only disappointed.
A nurse entered, carrying a small silver device, smooth and futuristic. She placed it on a tray beside my bed.
> "This will read your power level," the doctor explained carefully. "It's based on Null Stone fragments."
The device whirred and glowed faintly as it scanned me.
Nothing.
The hunter's eyes narrowed.
> "No reading. No gift," he said flatly.
He turned on his heel and left without another word, the echo of his boots bouncing off the sterile walls.
I was alone again.
---
The media storm roared for a week. News outlets ran wild with theories — some claimed I was an immortal alien; others accused me of faking everything for fame. Memes of my "resurrection" flooded the net.
Then, as quickly as it started, the world moved on.
---
The government refused to cover my full hospital bills. My grandfather's savings had vanished long ago, so debt became my new shadow.
I got a job in construction. Heavy lifting, mixing cement, scraping rust off old beams.
At first, I could barely stand after each shift. My shoulders burned, my palms blistered, and my back screamed every night.
But slowly… something changed.
I began to heal faster. The pain that once left me breathless faded within hours.
Steel pipes that required two men to carry — I moved alone. Cement bags that nearly crushed me before — I hoisted without effort.
> "Probably just getting stronger from work," I told myself, forcing a laugh.
But deep down, I knew.
I wasn't just strong. I was different.
---
One night, after another grueling shift, I was cooking noodles in the tiny apartment kitchen when I sliced my hand open by accident.
I hissed at the sudden sting, blood dripping onto the floor.
Then, before my eyes, the skin knitted itself back together in seconds.
My knees nearly gave out.
> "No… way," I whispered, staring at my palm.
Memories flooded back — the meteor, the explosion, the years trapped in stone.
> "That's why I survived."
"I can't die."
It wasn't a gift. It was a cage.
I remembered the rooftop. The train. How I had tried to end it all once. Even if I wanted to try again… I couldn't.
---
At work, I dislocated my wrist lifting a beam. The joint snapped back into place before anyone even noticed.
> "I'm not human anymore," I thought. "But I'm no hero either."
---
A week later, a sharp knock at my door pulled me from my restless thoughts.
I opened it to find an envelope. Heavy, with a golden seal that shimmered under the hall light.
> "You are invited to apply for admission into Vireon Academy."
My breath caught.
> "Why me?" "Did they find out?" "Am I a danger?"
I looked at the pile of old newspapers on my table — headlines calling me immortal, cursed, a fraud.
Then I thought of Grandpa. Of his rough hands on my head. His tired smile.
> "Live your life. Make friends. Be happy."
I looked at my reflection in the cracked mirror — my tired eyes, my uneven stubble, my gaunt face.
> "Maybe this time," I whispered to myself, "I'll really try."
A new beginning.
---
> ⚡ Teaser for Chapter 5 ⚡
Will Riyan live the normal life his grandfather wished… or is something far bigger waiting for him?
Last chapter for this week — don't miss it!
---