The sky burned the color of rust.
Orion Vale stood on the broken edge of a collapsed overpass, wind cutting through torn concrete and twisted steel. Below him, the city he once helped power lay in ruins—silent towers, dead streets, ash drifting like gray snow. Sirens had stopped days ago. The world no longer warned anyone.
He tasted blood.
Not from the fight. From betrayal.
Behind him, boots crunched on rubble. Familiar footsteps. Too familiar.
"You should've listened," a voice said. Calm. Regretful. Fake.
Orion didn't turn around. He didn't need to. He already knew who stood there.
Three people. His team. The last ones he trusted.
The ones who sold him out.
"I built the grid that kept this sector alive," Orion said quietly. His voice was steady, even now. "Without me, the reactors fail in six months."
"No," another voice replied. Sharp. Nervous. "Without you, we survive six months."
A gun clicked.
Orion finally turned.
Their faces looked wrong. Not guilty. Not angry. Just relieved.
That hurt more than fear ever could.
The world had ended slowly. First the power wars. Then the food riots. Then governments fell apart piece by piece. Engineers became assets. Assets became targets.
Orion had been careful. Logical. Useful.
But usefulness made people afraid.
"You promised," he said. Not begging. Just stating a fact.
The leader of the group avoided his eyes. "We promised to protect ourselves."
A shot rang out.
Pain exploded through Orion's side, hot and blinding. He staggered but didn't fall. Another shot tore through his leg. He dropped to one knee, breath sharp, fingers digging into broken concrete.
Still, he didn't scream.
That surprised them.
"You're too dangerous to leave alive," someone muttered.
Dangerous.
Because he thought ahead. Because he planned. Because he didn't panic like they did.
Because he knew how systems worked—and how people failed.
They dragged him to the edge.
Below, fires burned in pockets across the city. The air shimmered with heat and decay.
"You could've ruled with us," the leader said softly.
Orion laughed. A short, dry sound. Blood ran down his chin.
"No," he replied. "You wanted a shield. I wanted control."
Silence followed.
Then hands shoved him forward.
For a moment, time stretched thin.
The wind roared in his ears. The ground rushed up. His thoughts didn't scatter. They sharpened.
So this is how it ends.
No glory. No justice.
Just gravity.
Impact never came.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Cold.
Not physical. Deeper than that.
Orion drifted in nothingness, awareness intact, body gone. He felt no pain. No fear. Only clarity.
He replayed every choice.
Every warning ignored.
Every moment he trusted someone who didn't deserve it.
The conclusion was simple.
Trust was a weakness.
Emotion was a weakness.
Depending on others was a weakness.
If he had power—real power—none of this would have happened.
If strength decided fate, he would have climbed higher.
If the world followed cruel rules, then kindness without power was just suicide.
Something shifted.
A pressure formed around him, vast and distant, like a star waking in the dark.
Then—
Light.
Orion gasped.
Air filled his lungs—burning, thick, and wrong. He coughed violently, body convulsing as sensation flooded back. Gravity pressed down on him, heavier than Earth's. His chest ached. His head throbbed.
He opened his eyes.
Red sky.
Black sun.
Ash drifting through the air.
He lay on cracked ground that wasn't concrete, surrounded by jagged stone and dead metallic debris half-buried in dust. Strange structures loomed in the distance—towers of alloy and crystal, broken and ancient.
This was not Earth.
His body felt different. Younger. Stronger. Bruises instead of bullet wounds. Breath steadier. Heart pounding with raw life.
He pushed himself up on shaking arms.
Pain existed—but it was survivable.
Real.
A memory surfaced. Not his.
A child running through storms of ash. Hunger. Cold nights. A name whispered in fear.
Orion Vale.
The same name.
Different life.
Understanding settled slowly, like iron sinking into bone.
Rebirth.
He didn't smile.
He didn't cry.
He scanned the horizon with sharp eyes, already assessing threats, terrain, shelter.
A harsh wind howled across the wasteland. In the distance, something massive moved beneath the dust, leaving trails like scars across the land.
This world was hostile.
Good.
Hostile worlds didn't pretend.
Orion clenched his fists.
His hands were steady.
His thoughts were calm.
His heart was cold.
He stood alone on an alien planet under a dying star, with no allies, no safety, and no mercy waiting for him.
Perfect.
"If power decides everything," he muttered, voice low and controlled, "then I'll take all of it."
The ash thickened. The ground trembled faintly.
Something was coming.
Orion didn't run.
He faced it head-on.
And somewhere, far beyond the red sky and broken land, something ancient took notice.
The game had begun.