In the depths of his own consciousness,
where every known law of the world was torn and shattered,
he didn't know whether he was dreaming or awake.
That feeling...
pressing against his chest again and again.
And every time it returned,
he thought there was something he was supposed to do.
In this world — or dream — or whatever dimension this was,
he couldn't tell which one he truly belonged to.
---
When Novan opened his eyes,
he wasn't sure if he had truly awakened,
or if he was still trapped in a dream he couldn't escape.
The sun was rising from every direction —
its light gray and lifeless.
But he didn't care.
He had never seen real sunlight before.
It felt as though he were a prisoner of his own consciousness,
born again into a world that had forgotten what color meant.
The gray light that filled the room wasn't natural sunlight…
it was dim, hesitant —
like the last breath of a dying nebula.
Novan sat on the wooden bed, staring at the peeling wall.
He heard something behind his head —
a soft whisper, words he couldn't quite understand,
yet felt like he had known them forever.
He grabbed his head,
trying to silence the throbbing pain that grew stronger the more he tried to remember.
Every time he searched for his name,
he found only emptiness.
And yet, strangely, he wasn't afraid.
There was only that eerie calmness,
as if even fear itself had fallen asleep inside him.
---
He stepped outside, greeted by the smell of damp wood.
Grass — gray.
Sky — gray.
Everything — gray.
It was as if the world had forgotten how to breathe color.
He looked toward the village.
Something inside him whispered that he had seen it before.
The houses stood too neatly in their rows,
the windows all open toward a single narrow path
stretching endlessly into the fog.
Even the wind moved in a straight line.
But he ignored it.
All he wanted at that moment was to quench his unbearable thirst.
He passed by a well and saw his reflection in the water —
but it wasn't his face.
The reflection was distorted,
the features unfamiliar,
two black eyes that saw nothing.
When he reached out to touch the surface,
the water froze —
as if time itself had stopped for a heartbeat.
He stared until a small voice broke his thoughts.
"Good morning, Novan."
He turned quickly.
A child stood before him, holding a bucket, smiling that empty, unaware smile.
"The weather's nice today, isn't it?" the boy said softly.
"…Who is Novan?"
The boy laughed,
his eyes hollow yet knowing.
"That's the name you're searching for, isn't it?"
Novan frowned.
"How are you so sure that's my name?"
The boy's smile twisted slightly.
"Because we're all here because of you."
Novan froze.
"We…?"
Questions clouded his mind like a storm:
How many are there? Why is this child here? What is happening in this place?
When he looked around, he realized the village wasn't large —
yet in every window, there was a face.
Identical faces.
Same features, same smile.
As if every villager was a copy of the same person.
Confusion filled his chest,
but still, all he wanted was an answer.
---
He wandered between the houses,
hoping at least one of them would give him a clue.
But every time he entered and left a house,
he felt like he had just entered the same one moments ago.
When he turned back,
the rows of houses stretched endlessly into the horizon —
a mirrored path to infinity.
That's when he began to realize:
This world isn't real.
Everything was repeating.
The wind — motionless.
The trees — all leaning to the right.
The houses — identical, perfectly aligned.
Even the voices of the villagers echoed the same lines…
the same laughter…
in the same tone.
Life here wasn't lived — it was looped.
---
He lay on the ground, staring up at the gray sky.
And there it was —
a black light tearing through the heavens in every direction.
Fragments of memories started to return.
Visions of endless suffering,
pain unending —
both human and not.
Agony he couldn't understand.
And among those visions…
he saw himself for the first time.
Then—
The earth trembled.
A sound rose — not thunder,
but muffled screams,
as if the sky itself were weeping.
The villagers stopped moving.
Their heads turned slowly toward the widening crack above.
From within the rift,
a black light spilled forth —
not darkness, but the opposite of light —
a light that devoured everything.
Faces froze.
Laughter vanished.
The air thickened until even time itself seemed to suffocate.
Everything began to melt —
colors, sounds, even reality.
And Novan…
was the only one still moving.
He raised his eyes to the sky as it tore apart,
ash swirling around him in a storm of silence.
Then he felt it — the Pulse.
Not from his heart,
but from something deeper.
A pulse that echoed with the sky,
as if they were bound by a single thread.
A whisper cut through the chaos:
> "The sky remembers you…"
Then another, softer, from within:
> "But do you… remember it?"
The black light surged,
turning the rift into a vortex.
Everything was pulled in —
earth, houses, faces, even light itself.
But Novan remained standing,
his hair whipping wildly as sparks of dark fire surrounded him —
something deep within him awakening.
And this time, he heard the voice clearly:
> "You have opened your eyes… Shadow of Eternity."
He stood still,
staring at the frozen heavens.
The world around him silent — lifeless.
Even his breath refused to appear in the air,
as though it, too, feared to be seen.
He reached toward the sky,
the air around his fingers rippling like water.
Then the ground vanished beneath him.
He wasn't standing anymore —
he was floating.
Drawn upward, slowly,
toward the open wound in the sky,
toward that bleeding black light.
And in that moment,
he remembered a single fragment —
a warm hand holding his own,
and a woman's voice saying:
> "Don't let the darkness decide who you are."
He froze.
He didn't know who she was,
but he knew —
those words belonged only to him.
He looked up again.
The world beneath him was collapsing,
the village turning into white ash carried by the wind.
Everything was being erased —
as if reality itself was being rewritten.
Before the light devoured him completely,
the sky bent toward him like a living thing — smiling.
And the last whisper reached his ears, faint but inevitable:
> "Welcome to what remains of the world, Novan…"
Then—
The light went out.
And everything fell into complete silence.
---
End of chapter 1