"Yes… I finally have it."
The voice echoed weakly inside the cave, hoarse and cracked, as if it had been scraped raw by years of silence. The man who spoke leaned against the cold stone wall, breathing hard. Sweat clung to his thin frame, and his chest rose and fell like it might collapse at any moment.
His face looked strange, unsettling even.
Wrinkles traced deep lines across his skin, yet beneath them lingered the sharp outline of youth.
It was the face of a young man who had been forced to age too quickly. His hair had turned completely white, his nose was sharp, and his lips were dry and pale, split by exhaustion.
Lucien lowered his trembling hands and stared at the black notebook resting in his palms.
Ten years.
Ten years of hiding, running, searching, and surviving had led to this moment.
"So it's really over…" he murmured.
He closed his eyes, memories pressing in like a suffocating fog.
Ten years ago, he had obtained this notebook by accident.
Back then, he had used it only once. Just once. To erase the single enemy who had destroyed everything he once had. After that, he sealed it away, never daring to use it again. Some things were too dangerous to touch twice.
Time, however, did not wait.
"I've grown old," he whispered, letting out a long breath. "And I don't have much time left."
With slow steps, Lucien walked out of the cave. Cold mountain air washed over his face, sharp and refreshing. Far below, the winding road stretched toward the distant city. Civilization waited there, indifferent and loud.
He adjusted the worn bag on his shoulder and began descending the mountain.
"It's time," he thought. "Time to return home and do something truly insane."
The idea had haunted him for eight long years. At first, he had dismissed it as a desperate fantasy. But desperation grew louder as his body weakened. Now, it was the only thing keeping his heart beating.
After hours of travel, Lucien arrived at the airport. The crowds, the noise, and the endless movement of people felt unreal. Everyone around him was rushing toward a future. He alone was running away from an ending.
When the plane finally touched down in London, Lucien felt no relief. Only a strange heaviness settled in his chest.
Back in his old house, he stood motionless in the dim room. Dust floated through the air, illuminated by weak sunlight. Everything looked the same, yet none of it felt like it belonged to him anymore.
"Am I really going to do this?" he muttered.
For the first time, doubt crept in.
If he failed, there would be nothing left. Nobody. No soul. No second chance.
He clenched his fists.
"Heh… do or die," he said quietly. "I don't even have the luxury of choosing."
Lucien leaned against the wall, steadying himself.
"I'm dying anyway," he added softly. "If I do nothing, I disappear just the same."
That thought pushed him forward.
He packed what little he needed and left the house before dawn.
"All right," he whispered as he locked the door behind him. "It's time to leave this world."
His destination was an ancient Hindu temple buried deep in the mountains. Some said it was cursed. Others claimed it was connected to another world. Lucien didn't know which was true, but he was willing to gamble everything on the least possibility.
"Honestly," he thought as he walked, "my chances are almost zero."
The truth was painful, but he didn't avoid it.
"I just don't want to disappear feeling empty," he admitted to himself. "I want to live again."
When he finally arrived at the ancient temple, the sun was already high. The structure looked old and weathered, its stones darkened by time. Vines crept along the walls, yet the ground was strangely clean.
Lucien spent the entire day searching.
He checked every corner, every wall, every cracked floor tile. Hours passed, and still he found nothing.
"This place is abandoned," he muttered, frowning. "So why does it feel… maintained?"
As night fell and exhaustion dragged at his bones, he gave up for the day and set up a small tent nearby.
Sleep came slowly.
Then, a sound.
Lucien's eyes snapped open.
"Who's there?!" he shouted, grabbing his flashlight.
"Whoa! Don't scare me like that, old man!"
A young voice responded, startled but annoyed.
Old man?
Lucien's eye twitched.
He stepped out of the tent and saw a young man standing there, holding a broom and a flashlight. The boy looked relaxed, almost amused.
"And who are you calling old?" Lucien asked coldly.
The young man scratched his head. "My name's Raj."
"And why are you here?" Lucien demanded.
"I work for the nearby temple," Raj replied casually. "They hired me to clean this place every week and patrol it sometimes."
Lucien froze. "This place isn't abandoned?"
"It was," Raj said. "But someone bought it a month ago."
"I see…" Lucien murmured.
Raj narrowed his eyes. "Now that you know it's private property, shouldn't you leave?"
"It's too late tonight," Lucien said after a pause. "I'll leave at dawn."
Raj shrugged. "Fine. But don't let me catch you here tomorrow."
"Understood."
With that, Raj turned and disappeared into the darkness.
Lucien watched him go, then chuckled softly.
"What's a young man doing here at night?" he thought. "Meeting a lover, perhaps?"
The smile faded quickly.
"My body can't take any more rest," he sighed. "Sleep is a waste of time."
He grabbed his torch and resumed searching.
An hour later, in a room he hadn't examined closely before, Lucien paused in front of a wall. He tapped it lightly.
Tok.
Another spot.
Tok.
Then—
Tok.
The sound was dull.
His heartbeat quickened.
"This is it."
He pressed against the wall. With a low rumble, a hidden door slid open, revealing a staircase descending into darkness.
Lucien hesitated, then carefully checked for traps. Finding none, he stepped inside.
The stairs seemed endless. At the bottom stood an iron door.
Beside it, a switch.
Without hesitation, Lucien pulled it down.
The door creaked open.
What lay beyond stole his breath.
An enormous formation was carved into the floor. The outer circle was perfectly round, while the inner circle was shaped like an oval. At its center was an eye, etched so vividly it felt like it was watching him.
"So this is it…" he whispered.
He walked into the center of the formation, standing directly beneath the eye.
"Creepy," he muttered. "But this should maximize my chances."
From his bag, Lucien took out a stone glowing faintly with green and purple light.
"The Transmigration Stone…"
His eyes shone with excitement.
"If those temple fools knew I had this," he laughed softly, "they'd lose their minds."
He placed the stone near a podium-like structure.
"And of course," he said, amused, "the switch is right here."
The half-spherical switch glowed faintly.
"It's already charged?" Lucien blinked. "Perfect."
He didn't know that charging this formation required at least two years. If he had known, he might have run.
"Why would they activate it?" he wondered aloud. "Surely not for me."
He shook his head.
"No point thinking anymore."
He pulled out the black notebook.
"It's time."
Lucien wrote carefully, his hand steady despite the weight of his decision.
When he finished, he exhaled sharply.
"The Death Note can control the soul," he reasoned. "If it can do that… then this might work."
He tied the Transmigration Stone behind his head.
"Damn it," he growled. "No turning back now."
He pressed the switch.
The ground shook violently. Space itself seemed to twist and scream. A tunnel of distorted light tore open before him.
Lucien stepped forward.
"Goodbye, Earth."
Pain beyond imagination consumed him. His body felt like it was being shredded by countless blades.
"This… isn't stable!" he screamed in his mind.
His hand disintegrated. Then his arm.
"So this is how it ends."
Just as his shoulder began to vanish, his soul was violently torn from his body and drawn into the stone.
He didn't see the black notebook crumble into dust.
Nor did he notice the dark spirit that emerged from it, slipping silently into the Transmigration Stone.
Lucien watched his own body disappear, nausea overwhelming him despite having no physical form.
Time lost all meaning.
Then, light.
The stone burst from the tunnel and fell into a new world.