Lucen walked down the path from his college, hands deep in his pockets. The air was cold and fresh, with the faint smell of pine trees. Around him, the mountains stretched high, quiet and still. Most students hated walking alone here, but he liked it. It was peaceful, and it gave him space to think.
He wasn't exactly friendly. Not rude, just… careful. People didn't know his mind was sharp. He could read situations like a book, but he never bragged. It was easier to stay quiet, let people guess. Most of them didn't bother him. He didn't need friends to feel in control.
Tonight, he had met his rival near the campus garden. They didn't fight physically. Their battles were mental—tricks, words, challenges that tested who was smarter. The rival smirked under the dim lamp and asked, "You really think you can outsmart everything?"
Lucen had shrugged, calm as ever. "I don't outsmart everything. I just notice what most people miss."
It was the kind of talk that left a little thrill behind, a challenge hanging in the air. He liked it.
Now he walked alone, thinking about it. The path curved through trees, the sky turning red and purple as the sun set. Rivers sparkled in the valley below. It was beautiful. He should have been distracted by the view, but his eyes scanned the path anyway. Something felt off.
A soft noise made him stop. Footsteps? Voices? Far away, but tense, hurried. He frowned. Not hikers. Not normal people. He felt that familiar twitch in his chest—the instinct that something dangerous was coming.
Then he saw movement. Two figures, shadows moving too fast, too careful. Weapons glinting.
Lucen didn't panic. Not yet. He pressed against a rock, letting the shadows hide him. He stayed silent, watching.
He thought about the rival again. That smirk. Those words. Clever people, dangerous situations—sometimes they came together. He should have just gone home.
But now it didn't matter. The danger was real, not a game.
And one of the figures paused. Lucen's eyes caught it: a tattoo, strange and flower-shaped, glowing faintly in the last light. Something about it didn't feel normal. His stomach sank a little.
He knew this wasn't random. Whoever these people were, this wasn't just a robbery or fight. This was something else. Something… dark.
Lucen took a breath, silent, waiting. He had no idea that this moment, just a few steps from safety, would change everything.
He blinked once. Then the first shot rang out.
The sound echoed through the mountains, sharp and sudden.
Lucen flinched. His ears rang as another shot followed, then another. The calm place he liked so much turned chaotic in seconds. Birds flew out from the trees, and echoes bounced between the rocks like warnings too late to hear.
He stayed low, heart pounding. Crossfire, his mind registered quickly. Not police. Not hunters. This was messy. Dangerous.
He tried to move back, slow and careful, but the moment he shifted his foot, gravel crunched under his shoe.
One of the figures snapped his head toward the sound.
"Someone's there."
Lucen cursed silently. He turned and ran.
The path blurred as he sprinted, breath heavy, boots hitting stone and dirt. Another shot cracked the air. Something burned across his side. Pain exploded, sharp and hot, knocking the breath from his lungs. He stumbled, crashing hard against the ground.
The world tilted.He tried to push himself up, but his arms shook. Blood soaked into his jacket, warm and sticky. His chest felt tight, like something heavy was sitting on it.
Footsteps approached. Slow. Unhurried.
Lucen rolled onto his back, vision swimming. A shadow fell over him.
The man leaned closer, face half-hidden, eyes cold and focused. Up close, Lucen saw it clearly—the tattoo on his left hand. A strange flower shape, dark lines curling unnaturally, almost like it was alive.
The man clicked his tongue. "Damn it."
Another voice, farther away, sharp with panic. "What about him?"
The man glanced back, then down at Lucen again. He leaned close, close enough that Lucen could smell smoke and metal on his breath.
"We killed the students," the man said quietly, like it was nothing. "Run before anyone sees."
Lucen's mind screamed. Students? His vision dimmed at the edges. His body felt cold now, even where the pain burned.
The man stood and turned away.Lucen wanted to shout. Wanted to grab him. Wanted answers. But his mouth wouldn't move. His fingers twitched uselessly against the dirt.
The sky above him was darkening, stars barely visible through the trees. He thought of the rivalry conversation earlier. The world snaps. He almost laughed at how stupidly accurate that sounded now.
His heartbeat slowed.
The sounds around him faded. The pain dulled, replaced by numbness. His thoughts scattered, memories flashing—college halls, quiet walks, that smug rival smile, the mountains he liked so much.
Then everything went black.At first, there was nothing.No sound. No pain. No body.
Lucen felt like he was floating, falling, and standing still all at once. Time didn't make sense. He tried to think, but thoughts slipped away like water through fingers.
Then something tugged at him Hard.
He gasped.
His eyes snapped open.
He sucked in air, choking, coughing, his lungs burning. The smell hit him first—smoke, blood, ash. His body screamed in pain, but it wasn't the same pain as before. It was heavier. Deeper.
He tried to move and groaned.
This body felt wrong.
His hands weren't his. Bigger. Rougher. Calloused. His clothes were unfamiliar, torn and stained. The ground beneath him wasn't the mountain path. It was dirt mixed with broken wood and stone.
Fire crackled nearby.
Voices shouted in a language he didn't fully recognize, yet somehow understood.
Lucen's heart hammered. Panic surged, fast and wild.
I'm alive?
No. This wasn't right.
As he struggled to sit up, a strange warmth pulsed deep inside his chest. Faint. Unfamiliar. Like a light buried under layers of darkness, waiting.
He didn't know it yet.But something had followed him across worlds.
Lucen forced himself to sit up.
Pain rushed through him, sharp enough to make his vision blur again. He gritted his teeth and breathed slowly until it settled into a dull ache. His hands shook as he looked at them again—scarred knuckles, dirt under the nails. These weren't the hands of a college student who spent more time reading than fighting.
"This isn't my body," he whispered.
His voice sounded different. Deeper. Rougher.
Around him, the place slowly came into focus. Burned carts. Broken weapons. Bodies scattered across the ground, some unmoving, some barely breathing. The fire nearby flickered weakly, struggling against the night wind.
A battlefield.His stomach twisted.
I died… didn't I?
He remembered the gunshot. The blood. The man's cold voice. There was no escaping that.
So why was he here?
A sudden pressure bloomed in his chest.
Lucen froze.
It wasn't pain. It felt more like something waking up. A slow pulse, warm and steady, spreading outward through his veins. His breath hitched as the warmth moved, like invisible hands brushing against his ribs, his spine, his limbs.
Images flashed in his head—brief, broken, not his.
A name shouted in anger.
A blade raised too late.
A symbol burned into memory: two lines crossing at the center, sharp and uneven.
Lucen clutched his chest. "Stop… what is this?"
The warmth answered.
It surged.
For a split second, the world sharpened. He could hear everything—the crackle of dying fire, distant footsteps, even the soft breathing of someone hidden behind debris. His vision stretched wider, clearer, like his eyes had learned a new way to see.
Then it vanished.
Lucen gasped, collapsing forward, hands digging into the dirt. Sweat ran down his neck. His heart raced like he'd just run for his life again.
"That wasn't normal," he muttered.Footsteps approached.
Lucen tensed instantly, grabbing the nearest broken weapon without thinking. A shadow moved between the firelight. Someone stepped into view—a boy, maybe his age, bleeding from the arm, eyes wide with fear.
"You're alive?" the boy said, disbelief clear in his voice. "I thought everyone was dead."
Lucen opened his mouth to answer.
But he didn't know what to say.
Because he didn't know who he was supposed to be anymore.
The boy stared at him, then swallowed. "You're really going to stand up now… after that?"
Lucen looked down at himself again.
At the unfamiliar body.
At the strange warmth still faintly glowing inside him.
At the battlefield that wasn't his world.
Slowly, he stood.
"If you're asking whether I'm okay," Lucen said quietly, "then no."
The fire crackled behind him.
"And if this is some kind of nightmare," he continued, eyes steady now, "then it's already gone too far."
Somewhere deep inside his chest, that hidden light pulsed once.