Chapter 15
Souta woke up coughing, his body reacting before his mind could catch up with what was happening around him.
Dust filled the air so thick that it clung to his throat, and smoke burned his lungs as he raised his arm to shield his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly instead of panicking. The wind did not stop, carrying sand that struck his skin again and again, making it impossible to ignore where he was.
"Where am I…" he said quietly, his voice barely steady enough to hear himself.
Thunder rolled overhead, loud and constant, as if the sky itself was breaking apart. When he finally looked up, his chest tightened. The clouds above were red, twisted together, flashing with lightning that never seemed to fade. Each strike felt too close, too real, and the sound alone made his head throb.
He began walking, not because he knew where to go, but because standing still made everything worse. His thoughts were scattered, his memories slow to return, and every step only added to the confusion growing inside him.
Then he saw it.
The town he knew was gone.
Buildings that once stood tall were crushed into broken piles. Roads were split open and warped beyond recognition. Every familiar shape was either shattered or erased completely, leaving behind something that barely resembled a place where people once lived.
"No…" he whispered, staring without blinking. "This isn't real."
He struck his own face hard, then his stomach, forcing pain into his body as proof. His legs gave out and he dropped to one knee, the ache spreading through him immediately.
"I'm not dreaming," he said, his voice shaking despite himself. "So what the hell is this place?"
A sharp crack echoed through the ruins, loud enough to cut through his thoughts. Lightning struck straight down into the center of the town, sending debris flying outward. Souta ran toward it without thinking, his focus locked on the impact point. He stumbled over broken concrete, and something sliced into his foot. Blood spread across the ground beneath him.
He stopped and looked down.
"…Why isn't it healing?"
He tried to lift a fallen block nearby, something he should have been able to move easily before. His arms strained, but the weight did not budge. His strength felt wrong, almost unfamiliar.
"My powers," he muttered. "Are they gone?"
A low groan answered him.
Souta froze where he stood.
Something pulled itself out from behind the rubble ahead. At first glance it looked human, but the closer it came, the clearer it became that it was not. Horns curved from its head. Its skin was dark and uneven. Blood dripped from multiple wounds, yet it was still moving.
A demon.
Souta instinctively stepped back, hiding himself, but when he realized how badly injured it was, he hesitated. After a moment, he slowly revealed himself.
The demon noticed him immediately and raised its weapon without hesitation.
"How dare you show your face, Souta," it said, its voice filled with hatred. "I will kill you."
Souta's mind went blank.
"How do you know my name?" he asked, his voice tight. "I didn't do this. I just woke up here."
The demon laughed, a sound that felt wrong coming from its mouth.
"More of us will come," it said. "From everywhere. From every world. They are all coming for you."
Before Souta could respond, light poured down from above.
A beam struck the demon directly, and in an instant, it was gone. No sound. No remains.
Souta looked up slowly.
Someone was floating in the sky.
Someone who looked exactly like him.
He took a step back, his mind struggling to accept what his eyes were showing him.
"…That's me," he said quietly. "But I'm right here."
The other version of him descended, landing calmly in front of him.
"Interesting," the man said, studying him. "So the pluriverse is already broken."
"Who are you?" Souta asked. "Are you my twin?"
The man smiled, as if amused by the question.
"No," he said. "I am you."
They stood face to face, close enough that there was no doubt.
"We are both Ishikawa Souta," the other said. "Just from different places."
His gaze dropped to Souta's bleeding foot.
"You don't have powers," he said. "I thought every Souta did."
"I do," Souta replied. "Just not in this body."
The other Souta nodded, as if that answered everything.
"When the time comes," he said, extending his hand, "come to me. Help me win this war."
Souta hesitated, then reached out and touched his hand.
Light swallowed his vision.
Souta's eyes snapped open.
Bright lights burned into his sight. Guns were aimed directly at him. Soldiers surrounded him, their weapons steady, their expressions tense.
Victor stood at the front, completely calm.
"I know," Victor said. "It's a pity. Traitors are always disappointing. Now, get him."
Souta's thoughts rushed back all at once.
"This already happened," he realized. "I fought them. I was shot. I should still be out."
The soldiers moved closer, their guns aimed steadily, their faces blank, as if they were already counting how many seconds it would take to end him.
Suddenly, everything slowed down around him, as if the world itself had been forced to breathe through a narrow straw, and the sound of shouting and footsteps turned into distant echoes that could not reach his ears.
A blue screen appeared in front of him, cutting through the chaos like a calm order in the middle of a storm.
Self-Concord activated from Prime M002.
"What is this?" Souta whispered, his voice trembling as he tried to understand what was happening to him.
Text appeared rapidly, each line sharp and clear, as if the system itself was announcing a verdict.
10 minutes1 in 7,500 Time Acceleration activated1 in 15,000 Invincibility activated1 in 2,000 Flight activated1 in 2,300 Advanced Healing activated
"New abilities?" he muttered, unable to hide the shock in his voice as the words sank into him.
The screen vanished, and the world snapped back into motion like someone had released a held breath.
Souta was gone.
Victor's eyes widened in a mixture of anger and fear, his voice breaking through the silence as he shouted, "What just happened?"
One soldier collapsed without warning, his body falling limp as if his spine had been cut.
Then another fell.
And another.
Bodies dropped one after the other, and the soldiers could not even process what was happening fast enough to react.
Victor barked, "Shoot!" but the command came too late, because Souta was already moving again.
Bullets tore through the air and struck him, but his wounds closed instantly, like they were never meant to exist. The soldiers froze, unable to move, unable to breathe, as they watched their own fire fail to harm him.
Souta moved again, faster than any eye could track, faster than any thought could follow.
In one second, fifteen soldiers were down, their bodies collapsing as if the world had simply stopped supporting them.
Victor stared in disbelief, his face pale, his mind unable to accept what he was seeing.
"So this is the power of that orb," he said quietly, his voice low enough that only he could hear himself, but loud enough to show he was terrified.
He turned and ran, sealing doors behind him as reinforcements began to pour in, and for the first time, he looked like he was running from something he could not control.
Souta did not chase him, because there was no time, and because the moment he would have spent chasing Victor was a moment he could lose with his family.
He ran straight to the prison, ignoring the soldiers shouting behind him, ignoring the chaos, ignoring the fear.
He reached the cell and forced it open, using the guard's face as a key, and the door opened with a sound that felt like a promise.
"Mom," he said, his voice breaking, the name sounding like the only thing in the world that mattered.
She turned and froze, her eyes wide, her body shaking.
"Souta?" she asked, her voice full of disbelief. "You're bleeding."
His brother rushed forward, his voice sharp with worry.
"You're okay?" he demanded.
Souta's wound closed right in front of them, the blood disappearing as if it had never existed.
His mother stepped back, her eyes narrowing in confusion and fear.
"You're not Souta," she whispered, as if the truth was too heavy to say out loud.
"Mom, it's me," he said, his voice firm but desperate. "Please trust me. I know this looks wrong, but I am your son."
They hesitated, their eyes locked on him, trying to find the proof they needed, and then they nodded, because their hearts refused to let go of hope.
"Cover your ears," Souta said quickly, his voice tense and urgent.
"Why?" his brother asked.
"Just do it," Souta replied, and he did not give them time to argue.
They obeyed, hands pressed over their ears, eyes squeezed shut, trusting him even when everything else told them not to.
Souta grabbed them both, and in less than a second, he moved.
The world blurred, the forest outside the prison suddenly rushing toward them, and then stopping just as fast, like they had traveled through space instead of through distance.
His brother collapsed, vomiting, the dizziness ripping through him like a physical punch.
His mother fell forward, faint and confused, her body unable to handle the sudden change.
Souta held them both tightly, his heart racing as he forced his body to stay in control.
"You're safe," he said, his voice soft but steady, because he needed them to believe it more than he needed to believe it himself.
His mother lifted her head, her eyes wet, and she kissed his cheek like she was trying to hold onto him with her lips.
"My boy," she whispered, her voice full of pain and love at the same time. "I'm sorry."
Souta squeezed them both, feeling the weight of everything he had lost and everything he still had to protect.
They walked deeper into the forest together, moving as fast as their bodies could handle, but not fast enough to outrun the truth.
Souta looked ahead, his mind racing with the countdown in his head, the system's timer burning like a threat.
"I have ten minutes," he thought, and the words felt like a knife. "And after that, I'm on my own."
The forest grew darker around them, and Souta knew that the moment his power ended, the world would become the same as before, except now he had seen what he could become.
He had seen what he could do.
And he knew Victor would not stop until he was dead.
To be continued...