Origin Universe
Fifteen years had passed since the day of the Asura vision.
Time, as it always did, moved forward without hesitation. Even the most terrifying events faded into rumor, then into myth, and finally into nothing more than forgotten whispers. The multiverse continued its endless motion. Without any care for anything.
And somewhere far away from all the chaos of power and its brutality, there existed a small, low-level planet ruled by humans.
Its name was Aries.
Aries was not considered one of the important worlds among the countless in the origin universe. It was not a planet where supreme beings walked openly.
Poor in spiritual energy, resources, and influence. The strong did not bother looking at it or fight over it. It was the kind of place that survived simply because no one cared enough to destroy it.
On the outer edge of a small city stood an old orphanage. The building leaned slightly to one side, its wooden beams weathered by time and neglect.
Paint had long since peeled away from its walls. The roof sagged in places where repairs had been postponed too many times.
One glance was enough to tell anyone that the orphanage was not well funded.
But that was nothing new. Nobles were the same no matter which planet you were on. They attended ceremonies, praised virtue with empty words, and sent coins only when it improved their image. Children without status were rarely worth investment.
Still, despite its poor condition, the orphanage was lively.
Children's laughter echoed in its halls. Small feet ran across creaking wooden floors. Arguments, games, and harmless chaos filled the air.
Inside the kitchen, Sister Mary moved carefully between old iron pots and worn countertops. The stone floor beneath her feet had long since dulled from years of use. Steam rose from boiling water, fogging the small window above the sink.
Her clothes were simple. The fabric had been patched in places where it had grown thin. Strands of brown hair slipped free from her loose tie and clung to her cheeks in the heat.
Her hands bore the quiet scars of long labor, small burns, faint cuts, and skin roughened by years of work.
Her movements were slow but practiced. Everything she did carried patience.
She had been the caretaker of this orphanage for the past fifteen years.
Mary had no family of her own. She was an orphan herself. Perhaps that was the reason she became the caretaker.
She hummed softly while stirring a pot of soup.
Technically, she did not need to cook. There were helpers assigned to the orphanage for such tasks. But she insisted on doing it herself. Not because she particularly enjoyed cooking, but because the children liked her food more than anyone else's.
"It's peaceful today," she said.
And then she heard it, a shout followed by much laughter. Mary froze mid-stir.
She set the ladle down slowly; her heart already knew what she would see because this was not the first time.
She stepped outside just as several children scattered like startled birds, guilt written clearly across their faces. They avoided her eyes as they ran past.
At the center of the yard stood a boy.
Messy white hair clung to his forehead, and worn-out clothes were slightly too small for his thin frame. Dirt stained his knees. Faint bruises on his arms and legs. A single glance is enough to say he is malnourished.
And his eyes,
They were a clear, striking blue.
Too clear and too pure for a world that had shown him very little kindness. He stood alone, silent, as if nothing could reach him, as if nothing mattered.
Mary exhaled slowly; she approached him and lowered herself down, knees creaking faintly. "What happened?" she asked gently.
The boy said nothing. He never did.
He was mentally slow and unable to speak; he communicated only through simple gestures when hunger or pain became too much to ignore. Because of that, the other children called him Mute.
Not because they are cruel, but simply because it was easier to remember.
In Aries, everyone knew that at the age of fifteen, a person would awaken. By then they would receive their system and their true name, one that was bound directly to their soul.
Because of that, no one had bothered to give the boy a proper name.
"Why name him? When the old system will do it later."
Mary had disagreed silently. She called him Blue because of his eyes.
She reached out and gently ruffled his messy white hair. "It's okay," she whispered. "Go inside."
Blue hesitated. Then he gave the faintest nod and turned toward the building.
Mary watched him go, her chest tightening.
She still remembered the day he arrived.
It had been her first month as caretaker. One early morning, she had opened the front door and found him lying there as a baby, wrapped in an unbelievably luxurious blanket, so fine it didn't belong anywhere near a place like this.
He had been barely breathing. His body was unbelievably weak and cold, almost on the edge of death. Everyone who saw him said he wouldn't survive. Even the doctor in the orphanage said he does not know what's wrong with him and that he would die.
But like a miracle, he proved them all wrong and lived. But the cost, however, had been high.
After weeks of fever and near-death silence, something in him had changed. He survived, but he did not speak. His mind seemed slow and distant, as if part of him had never fully woken.
Mary shook the memory away and returned to the kitchen to continue making the food.
The day passed quietly.
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It began with laughter.
Then a spark.
Then panic.
A careless game. Restless children playing with something they should not have touched. Dry wood caught fire faster than anyone realized.
The curtain ignited, and flames climbed the walls hungrily, spreading from beam to beam.
Within moments, the entire orphanage caught fire, and smoke flooded the halls. And screams of the panicked children filled the orphanage.
Mary instinctively reacted without thinking. "Outside! Everyone outside!" she shouted.
She grabbed the nearest child and pushed him toward the door. She rushed back in for another; the heat pressed against her skin.
Smoke burned her lungs; she coughed, and her eyes were stinging, but she did not have the time to care about that. The only thought in her mind was that she should save everyone.
One by one, she dragged them out. Some crying. Some were frozen in terror. Some were clutching her clothes as if letting go meant death.
The other grownups in the orphanage and the people around it also came to help her to save the children. One by one the old wood cracked, and beams started collapsing inside the orphanage.
Outside, chaos reigned. Children huddled together, sobbing. The night sky glowed orange from the growing fire.
Mary started counting quickly. "One. Two. Three..."
Suddenly she remembered something.
"Blue."
Her breath caught in her throat. She turned toward the burning building just as flames burst violently from one of the upper windows.
"No…"
She ran forward instinctively. The heat from the fire slammed into her like a wall. Smoke poured from the entrance.
She covered her mouth and tried to push through, but the flames forced her back. Tears streamed down her face.
"Blue!" she screamed. "Blue! Blue!"
There was no answer.
A hand grabbed her arm from behind and pulled her back as part of the roof caved inward. Sparks shot into the air.
She fell to her knees. Seeing the orphanage was collapsing because of the fire, she can't help herself from shaking and crying from the guilt of not being able to save Blue.
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Inside the orphanage, in a small room at the far end of the hall, a boy lay asleep.
Fire crawled along the walls, and smoke filled the air, thick and heavy.
And yet,
He slept, as if it were a hobby of his to sleep through disasters. Flames licked closer, and heat wrapped around him like a living thing.
Then suddenly, like he was bitten by a beetle, he sat upright, and his abyss-like blue eyes snapped open. But they were not the same.
The haze and the emptiness had vanished.
Instead, clarity filled them; there was awareness in his eyes for the first time.
The boy called Blue was gone, and the one who opened his eyes in that burning room was Ethan Hart.
He tried to inhale but instantly regretted it. The smoke scorched his lungs, and the heat stung his skin. He blinked once, twice, trying to process what he was seeing.
For a few seconds, his brain simply refused to accept it.
Then the reality settled in: a different body in a different world.
The first words that left his mouth in this new life were,
"What the fuck?"