Astra staggered back just as the drunk old woman lunged at him.
She jumped.
Gravity did the rest—belly and chest bouncing violently as she flew toward him with a shrill, unholy screech.
"Oh hell no."
Instinct took over.
Astra kicked her straight in the gut.
"AAAHHH—!"
The woman was launched like a cannonball, smashing through the wall behind her.
BOOM.
"My eyes—my virgin eyes!"
Astra spun around and bolted for the door behind him.
"Fuck my luck! Why is this happening to me? Did I commit genocide in my past life?!"
He skidded into the corridor, sprinting like death itself was on his heels.
Wait.
"…Oh. Right. I did."
"ZE-PHYR, MAN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
The bar staff stared at him like he'd lost his mind.
"PERFECTLY FUCK OFF, YOU BASTARDS!" Astra yelled, bursting out of the building.
He didn't stop running.
Past the streets.
Past the city edge.
Straight into the forest.
Anima surged through him.
He leapt.
Higher.
And higher.
Each jump shattered the ground beneath his feet as the capital shrank into a speck below.
Then—
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH—!"
He screamed.
For thirty whole minutes.
Crows fled the trees like terrified rats.
***
The Human Empire stretched across the world—a strange fusion of medieval tradition and futuristic marvels. Stone fortresses rose beside humming arcane machinery. Iron-clad knights marched beneath glowing banners. Market towns buzzed with life, magic, and steel.
And above it all floated the Dragon Castle.
A colossal citadel carved entirely from shimmering diamond, a gift from the dragons themselves. Even now, scaffolding clung to its edges, construction ongoing after the four-year war against the Demon King.
The world was preparing to celebrate.
One year since the Demon King's death.
A global festival, spanning empires and races alike, honouring the victory—and the royal siblings who had slain him: the Crown Prince and the Eldest Princess.
Behind the Human Empire loomed Shadow Mountain, colossal towers of rock casting eternal darkness. At one of its highest peaks, aligned perfectly with the floating castle far in the distance, a young man lay on his back, staring at the sky.
Detached.
Empty.
Astra exhaled slowly and stood.
He closed his eyes, sinking inward, feeling his soul… and the vessel housing it.
"Tsk. Weaker."
Six Anima Cores remained.
Not ten.
Four shattered when the gate dragged him away.
"If I knew this would happen, I'd have ascended to godhood first," he muttered. "Arrogance bites hard."
Something stirred.
A frown crossed his face.
At the centre of the six violet cores, a black aura shimmered faintly.
He lifted his hand.
The darkness responded.
Black energy condensed, humming violently, forming into a long odachi—its blade obsidian-black, violet runes crawling across its surface.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
He already knew.
The blade was bound to his soul.
{It's time to go home.}
The voice echoed again.
Astra sighed for what felt like the thousandth time and closed his eyes, diving deeper.
Everything here revolved around the soul.
The soul shaped the body.
And his soul—nephilim by nature was still detached.
Not yet anchored.
If he devoured this human vessel completely, the body would change. Rewrite itself to match him.
But—
It was empty.
No resistance.
No residual Anima.
No soul.
Just a void.
"What the hell…?"
His confidence wavered.
That woman's voice had anchored him here—but whatever once inhabited this body was already gone. Not erased by him. Just… missing.
Impossible.
And yet—
This world.
The gate.
The anchor.
The sensation was too real.
If this were a game or the game is based on this world, then the creator had knowledge no mortal should possess.
And worse—
"This is the sequel," Astra muttered.
The prequel had ended, since this guy is now a gigolo. Worse, he hadn't even played the sequel; only info from beta testers leaked. Lastly the spatial abilities that attacked his world are similar to the ones in the sequel plot? A realisation hit him as he smiled
"…So you're coming here too."
A low laugh escaped him.
"Fine. I'll prepare. I need to find a way to contact Uriel and make her find the creator of that game.
Astra closed his eyes and focus he won`t waste any time as his people surely at war
Slowly, his body lifted from the stone.
Purple and violet energy wrapped around him, compressing like a cocoon.
Then—
SPURT.
Blood erupted from his eyes, ears, and pores.
His bones cracked.
His flesh split.
The pain was unimaginable—burning alive while being stabbed by a thousand blades at once.
Astra felt it all.
And felt nothing.
BOOOOOOOM!
The cocoon exploded.
Gore and flesh rained down as the human body exploded and violet sparks scattered across the sky—then converged, reforming.
A body took shape. Then the light faded.
What stood there was a work of art.
Red hair, longer now. His face sharper, closer to his former self—yet more beautiful, almost unreal. His eyes opened slowly, no longer brown, but violet, with galaxies swirling within.
Violet markings spread across his chest and right arm.
Astra looked down.
"…Arscatek."
A translucent tab materialised before him.
Name: Zephyr Azraelion Zeraphis
Race: Nephilim
Soul Weapon: Armageddon — [Divine Rank, forged by the Ancient Gods using END. Bound to the user's Anima Cores. Capable of erasing existence and reshaping into any weapon.]
Anima Core: 7 — Transcendence
Anima Stage: Divinity
Concept: War, Beauty, Void, End
Astra smiled faintly.
"Well then…"
"…Now that is something."