Edward staggered out of the forest, breath ragged and his hands trembling. Blood clung to his skin like proof of victory.
"I'm not useless anymore, Ashel," he muttered, his voice raw with exhaustion and fury. "I've destroyed them all… every last one of those filthy monsters."
He tilted his head up, a dark grin spreading across his face — the kind that didn't belong to the boy he once was.
"They deserved worse," he whispered. "They deserved to never exist."
A white screen flashed in front of his eyes, blinding for a second before stabilizing.
SYSTEM: TRIAL CHAMBER COMPLETED.
LEVEL UP ACHIEVED.
Edward groaned. "Yeah, yeah, later. System, I want to ask something."
SYSTEM: QUERY RECEIVED. STATE YOUR QUESTION.
"Is Ashel alive?" he asked, voice barely steady.
The screen flickered once before responding.
SYSTEM: SUBJECT ASHEL — STATUS: ALIVE.
The glow faded back into the dark, leaving Edward standing in silence. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
"Good…"
A faint smile touched his lips. "Good… that's good."
The rain stopped. Sunlight sliced through the mist, warm on his face as he stared at the city ahead.
"I'm coming, Ashel," he whispered. "I've leveled up. I can protect you now."
He straightened, more confident. "System, locate Ashel."
SYSTEM: LOCATING… ASHEL… ERROR. LOCATING ASHEL FAILED.
Edward's eye twitched. "What? You piece of junk! Update yourself already!"
SYSTEM: [offended tone]
"Oh, so now you're sensitive? You're just a dumb, outdated hunk of metal!"
A spark jumped from the interface—
"AAHHH! You stupid, old—" ZAP!
SYSTEM: WARNING. INAPPROPRIATE LANGUAGE DETECTED.
Another shock hit. Smoke curled from his hair. "I just got out of hell, and now you're frying me again?!"
SYSTEM: [electrocutes with petty enthusiasm]
"Son of a—" ZAP!
He hit the dirt, coughing up black smoke. "I… hate you…"
Then he fainted, charred but somehow still dramatic.
The world faded, dragging him back to the past." That keeps the flow clean.
When Edward was ten years old.
He remembered the sound before the sight—his mother crying behind a half-open door. He peeked inside. His father's shadow loomed, belt in hand, striking again and again. The stench of alcohol filled the air.
His mother never raised her voice, even when she should've. Always in plain clothes, always smiling through it. His father, on the other hand, reeked of liquor and never cared how he looked — or who he hurt.
This was normal. Every night the same movie on repeats. His mother always smiled in front of him, but Kevin knew better. He'd seen her cry when she thought he was asleep.
At school the next morning, the teacher's voice was a blur. Chalk scraped across the board, meaningless words on a meaningless day.
"Kevin," she said softly, crouching beside his desk. "You've been quiet lately. Is something wrong?"
He stared down at his hands. "I… I don't know what to do."
Her hand rested gently on his shoulder. "You're not alone, okay? You can always tell someone."
He nodded, but he didn't. He couldn't.
That night, the yelling started again.
Kevin stood frozen at the doorway, shaking. Then, all at once, he ran forward.
"Mama!"
His father turned, his face twisting in anger. "Tch. This brat needs to learn some respect."
"Please—don't hurt him!" his mother screamed, grabbing his leg. He kicked her away without hesitation.
"Ahh!"
He pulled off his belt, veins bulging in his neck. Kevin couldn't move. His eyes burned from the tears.
As the belt came down, there was a sharp sound—not from the belt, but a knife.
A splash of warmth hit Kevin's face. He opened his eyes to see his father fall backward, eyes blank. His mother stood there, shaking, the kitchen knife still in her hand.
Her voice trembled. "No one touches my son ever again…"
The grandmother, in her late sixties, sat calm with a cigarette between her fingers, sunglasses on and a half-leather jacket draped over her shoulders.
"That bastard of mine deserves to die," she said—her voice flat; he had abused her too.
"Still—laws are laws. Will you turn yourself in?" she asked.
"Don't worry about him," Grandma said.
Minutes later the sirens arrived, red lights slashing the walls.
Kevin's mother looked at her son through tearful eyes, pain twisting her face. She pulled him into one last, trembling hug — holding on like she could stop time — before they took her away.
Kevin never saw her again.
Years blurred by. The boy became a man—twenty-five, living with his grandmother, carrying silence like a wound.
One night, his phone buzzed.
Unknown: Meet me at the tower. 10 PM.
"Huh. Great. A prank," he muttered. But something in him—boredom, curiosity, fate—made him grab his jacket anyway.
Downstairs, his grandma sat in front of the TV, cigarette dangling between her fingers.
"Where are you going this late?" she asked.
"Out. Need snacks."
"Buy me some too," she grumbled. "And don't give me that look. My ancestors smoked while making rice wine, and they lived just fine."
He smirked faintly. "Yeah, yeah."
Outside, the night air was thick with rain. He bought his cigarettes and lit one, watching the smoke rise and vanish into the drizzle.
That's when he saw her—a girl walking in the middle of the road like she didn't care whether she lived or died.
"Hey! Watch out!"
She didn't hear him. A car tore down the street, headlights flaring. Kevin dropped his bag and ran. He grabbed her hand, pulling her close.
"Stupid girl! You trying to die?!" he shouted, voice trembling more than he wanted to admit.
Her eyes fluttered open, distant, empty. Then she fainted in his arms.
"Hey—hey! Don't pass out on me!"
Before he could process anything, another car screeched to a stop beside them. A man in a white suit stepped out, face hidden by the rain. Two others followed.
"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Kevin barked, stepping back instinctively.
The man didn't answer. He simply nodded—and everything went dark.
He gasped, but the air felt thinner—his voice higher, echoing like a child's inside his skull. When Kevin opened his eyes, he was no longer himself. He was Edward now—trapped in a child's body, in a world that wasn't his.
The night air was still when Edward woke up. His body felt heavy, his mind fogged with half-finished dreams.
"How long was I out?"
SYSTEM: EDWARD, YOU'VE BEEN ASLEEP FOR AN HOU—
He ignored it. The voice didn't matter. Only one name pulsed in his thoughts.
Ashel.
He started walking toward the city, the cold wind cutting through his coat. The path was too quite. Edward finally reached the city gates. A long bridge stretched ahead, but the path shimmered with a strange light—blocked.
He frowned, exhaling. "What the…?"
The wind carried a whisper—something that almost sounded like his own name.