Chapter–1
Alone in a new world.
chapters will be released everyday or in 2 days
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The city streets were quiet, washed in the pale glow of streetlights. Damian Arkwright shoved his hands into his pockets, dragging his feet home after another late shift.
Damian (grumbling):
"…Work, rent, sleep, repeat. What a thrilling life."
He kicked an empty can down the sidewalk, his expression tired.
Damian Arkwright:-
My name is Damian Arkwright I am an ordinary man in his 20s, trapped in his boring everyday life. going to work early in the morning and coming back home late at night again and again everyday with no girlfriend or a wife to welcome me at home.
tugging at his tie.
"Is this all there is? Just… being invisible in a crowd?"
Repeating this boring everyday life.
I also want to enjoy my life like others,
As a kid I use to fill my sketch book with inventions, machines, gadgets, whole cities of impossible design.
I wanted to make things,
To leave a mark. But reality has crushed that spark.
Now all I made were late shifts and excuses.
"Some creator I turned out to be",
Damian muttered,while crossing the road.
"Suddenly". Headlights flared at the edge of his vision.
He turned just in time to see a truck speeding
"....oh shi__"Impact.. Pain.Then silence.
"ahh" what just happened.
He muttered to himself,
When he opened his eyes there was nothing,
No pain, no street, no sound of City life only endless black stretching in all directions his body felt weightless,
Like he was floating in deep water.
" Where am I."
What just happened ..that truck just hit me.
His voice echoed strangely, swallowed by the void.
He clutched his chest. "wait.. am I..dead.."
Panic crept into his voice.
"No, no, no, this… this isn't real. I can't just die like that. I didn't do anything! I didn't even live yet!"
Then a sudden bloomed in his chest, slow and steady, like a Spark catching flames.
The same warmth he used to feel as a child when he dreamed of building worlds on paper.
Then, came a voice. divine, but soft like someone whispered directly into his heart.
" You wished to create, to shape, to make, that wish is heard".
Damian froze. ".... Who is there?"
No answer only the whisper continue, calm and absolute
" Then walk the path of the maker. Survive… build."
Damian spun in the void. "Who's there?! Show yourself!"
Before Damian could argue more, light erupted beneath him.
the world titled and he was pulled down, down through brightness, until..
He woke with grass in his mouth
"Pft–!" Damian spat, coughing as he pushed himself into his elbows. His vision blurred then slowly sharpened green everywhere.
The ground beneath him was soft and damp, a carpet of moss and leaves. Sunlight streamed through towering trees overhead scattering golden patches of light across the forest floor.
The air smelled fresh almost too fresh, compared to the smoggy city air he was used to.
Damian sat up slowly, his head throbbing, he patted himself down. no pain, no broken bones, no blood, except for the dull ache in his chest.
"This… isn't the city," he muttered,
His heart raced.
"No… this isn't Earth at all."
His phone. He pulled it out with shaking hands, the screen cracked beyond repair, he pressed the power button again and again, but nothing happened. No signal, no glow, just a dead screen and broken glass.
"Where the hell am I ?"
His voice sounded small, swallowed by the vast silence of the woods.
There was no traffic. No building. No city sounds at all. Only bird songs, the distant rush of water, and the constant sound of leaves moving by air.
Damian then turned to look around, then he saw trees stretched endlessly in every direction, their trunks wide enough that three men couldn't wrap their arms around them.
The undergrowth was thick clawing at his jeans as he took a step. No path. No trails.
The truth was hard to accept but he knows. That this isn't Earth, this isn't home.
He moved forward, pushing aside branches searching desperately for any sign of people but there was nothing.
Just endless forest. His stomach growled. A sharp reminder of how long it has been since he had eaten his last meal.
He sat down against a tree, running both his hands through his messy black hair.
" Great. Just great. I died, then I wake up in this forest . Alone with nothing."
That's when he felt it again.
The warmth.
It pulsed faintly in his chest, slow and steady, like a heartbeat that wasn't his own he froze pressing a hand over his shirt.
What is this..? He said.
And then the though came clear and unshakable.
Imagine.
Damian blinked. " …. Imagine what ?"
His mind flickered to an apple. Red, glossy, perfectly round he could almost taste that crisp bite, with the soft inside part filled with sweetness.
The warmth in his chest surged.
Light shimmered faintly in his palm.
And then something starts to form above the palm of his hand.
And then it dropped into his hand with a soft thud .
His breath caught. His eyes widened.
"... No way."
It was an apple, Real, Solid, cold in his hand.
Dew still clinging to its skin.
He raised it to his mouth slowly, hesitating. Then he took a bite. The crunch echoed in the silence. Juice ran across his tongue sweet, sharp. His chest tightened as tears pricked from the corners of his eyes.
" It's…real."
He laughed, half- crazed,
Half- disbelieving. He took another bite, then another, devouring it until only the core remained.
I made this out of nothing.
The warmth pulsed again, like a quiet answer.
Damian's hands trembled. His mind raced with possibilities. Tools. Shelter. Food. Anything.
But with each spark, each pulse, he felt himself grow weaker, drained. When he tried again, a simple coin, then a knife his chest ached, his breathing ragged. Sweat beaded his forehead.
He stared down at the knife. Crude, imperfect, but sharp enough to cut bark. Real enough to be dangerous.
"I can… create."
His voice shook.
"Anything I imagine, I can make it real."
Damian's fists clenched. Fear warred with excitement in his chest. "If this is real… then maybe… just maybe… I get another chance."
The thought terrified him as much as it thrilled him.
If this was real if this was his power then he couldn't let anyone know. Not until he understood it. Not until he knew the cost.
Because in the wrong hands, this power wouldn't just be dangerous. It could change everything.
The sun dipping low, Shadows stretched long across the forest floor. Damian forced himself up.
He needed shelter before dark.
He found a hollow between thick tree roots, he cleared away the debris, and focused. He pictured a hatchet wood handle, steel head. The warmth surged, and in his hand appeared a crude but usable tool.
Swing by swing, he cut branches. He conjured rope, twine, rough nails. Piece by piece, he lashed together a crooked lean-to against the roots. Ugly, uneven, but it stood.
By the time darkness fell, Damian sat beneath his crooked, eating a bowl of ramen made by his imagination. He struck sparks with a rough imagined striker, coaxing a small fire into life. The flames crackled, their glow casting dancing shadows across the trees.
He stared into the fire, knees pulled to his chest.
He'd died. He'd woken in a new world. And now he carried a power that defied reason.
But for now, he was just a man in torn clothes, alone in the middle of a forest, clinging to the warmth in his chest like the only promise he had left.
Tomorrow, he would test more. Learn more. Build more.
Tonight, under strange new stars, Damian Arkwright whispered to himself:
"I'll survive. Whatever this place is… I'll make it mine."
Unseen in the shadows, something stirred. Watching. Waiting.
And the path of the Maker had only just begun…