The End of One Life
Darkness.
That was the first thing Ruko noticed — a silence so complete that even his own heartbeat was gone. No pain. No warmth. Just… emptiness.
He floated there, or maybe he was the void itself. He couldn't tell. His thoughts felt like echoes, drifting farther with each second.
> "So this is it…"
The words barely formed before dissolving into the dark. There was no sound, no body, no gravity — yet somehow, Ruko felt weight. The weight of regret, of loneliness, of being forgotten even in death.
He tried to move, but there was nothing to move. He tried to shout, but there was no air to breathe.
> "Is this… hell?"
A faint light flickered in the distance — small, but unmistakable.
Something… called to him.
The light pulsed once, twice, and with it came voices.
Whispers. Dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands — overlapping, crying, laughing, whispering words he couldn't understand.
He tried to focus, but each one clawed at his mind.
Memories flooded back — his girlfriend's cold stare, his family's silence, the laughter that turned to nothing.
"Bomboclot… what kinda nightmare is this?" he muttered reflexively, though the sound echoed like a ripple across the void.
Then the whispers stopped.
And for the first time, he heard one clear voice.
A woman's voice. Calm, ancient, and powerful — like someone who stood outside the rules of time itself.
> "You're not supposed to be here, Ruko Jizuko."
His eyes — or whatever counted for them — widened.
> "Who the hell—?"
> "Silence."
The light expanded, swallowing everything.
Ruko tried to resist, but his consciousness was being pulled toward it — fast, unstoppable.
Images flashed by: worlds burning, skies splitting, gods kneeling. Faces he'd never seen. Power beyond understanding.
And among them — twenty shadows, each radiating an aura that shook his very soul.
Each one felt alive, as if watching him from across existence.
> "You will walk the path of the forgotten," the voice whispered.
"Through worlds where fate is written by others — until your own story rewrites theirs."
He reached out, trying to speak, but before he could —
Light.
A blinding surge that tore the void apart.
Then — warmth.
He could feel air again. His body. His heartbeat.
The faint sound of water. A cool breeze brushing against his skin.
Somewhere nearby… the chirping of birds.
He blinked — and though his vision was blurred, one thought cut through the haze:
> "I… survived?"
No. Not survived. Reborn.