The book was heavier than it looked.
Its leather cover was cracked, stained by things that had no name anymore. The man flipped it open anyway, the sound of pages scraping like bones rubbing together. The room around him was quiet—too quiet for a world that was still technically alive.
He stopped at the first page.
A photograph stared back at him.
A young man, sharp-eyed, tired in a way sleep could never fix.
Rye — Age 20
Classification: Undead
Codename: Death's Reverence
The man read aloud, voice low.
"Guy named Rye. Twenty. Part of the Undead Class."
His fingers tightened slightly on the page.
"Through willpower alone, he broke free from his body's limits… ended with him gaining immortality of the highest degree."
Rye had died.
That much was certain.
But death, apparently, had blinked first.
Immortality wasn't a blessing in this world—it was a declaration of war against the natural order. Rye had forced his existence to continue through sheer refusal to stop. No magic circle. No divine contract.
Just will.
The man exhaled and flipped the page.
The next photo almost burned.
A young woman with soft features, a crooked smile, and eyes that looked like they'd seen heaven and laughed at it.
Lisa — Age 19
Classification: Divine
Codename: Angel
"Lady called Lisa," he read. "Nineteen. Divine Class."
He paused, lips twitching despite himself.
"Somehow… all the good she did turned her into an angel."
The word angel didn't fit her.
"Still drinks like a sailor. Still curses like one too."
An angel born not from purity—but from excess kindness. Every small, stupid, reckless good deed stacking until the universe itself couldn't ignore her anymore.
She had wings now.
And absolutely no intention of acting holy.
He turned the page again. Then again.
The air shifted.
He stopped.
The photograph on this page felt wrong. Not blurry—unsettled. Like it refused to stay still when you weren't looking straight at it.
A girl stood in the image.
Or… something that looked like one.
Fear — Age: 21?
Classification: God's Apostle
Codename: Unknown
"This one is an odd one," he muttered.
"Name: Fear."
The name wasn't a title.
It was a warning.
"Through endless worship given to this person… they ended up gaining powers of a known yet unknown god."
No one knew which god.
No scripture named it. No myth claimed it. But something ancient had noticed the prayers, the devotion, the fear masked as faith.
And it answered.
The man shut his eyes for a moment before turning the page.
This time, the photo hurt to look at.
A little boy.
Too small for the weight behind his eyes.
Zach — Age 10
Classification: Experimented
Codename: Pain Relief
The man swallowed.
"Retrieved from a science facility that remains operational."
His jaw tightened.
"Subjected to repeated experiments. Pain beyond tolerance. Beyond reason."
The page trembled slightly.
"His body eventually stopped healing… so it adapted instead."
Pain didn't break Zach.
Pain became irrelevant.
That terrified the man more than immortality. More than angels. More than gods.
He closed the book.
The sound echoed through the empty room like a coffin sealing shut.
A group of odd individuals.
People who didn't gain power through destiny or talent—but through suffering, will, and refusal to collapse.
And somehow…
I'm the one leading them.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"If I don't show them humanity's good side," he murmured, "then what they protect won't be worth saving."
Outside, something screamed.
Metal bent.
The world reminded him it was already falling apart.
He stood, slipping the book under his arm.
"Guess it's time," he said quietly.
The lights flickered.
And the story began