PROLOG
DEFYING MY FATE
Rain poured down on the city bitterly, as if the sky itself was mourning what was about to happen. The usually bustling streets were now deserted, illuminated only by pale, wet streetlights. On a wide, quiet road, two young figures ran breathlessly—a seventeen-year-old boy with jet-black hair and cold gray eyes, and a fifteen-year-old girl with short black hair and eyes of the same gray hue.
They were Kyoichiiro and his younger sister, Celia.
Celia: (panting) "Big Brother... I can't go on..."
Kyoichiiro: (holding his sister's hand tightly) "Don't stop, Celia. They're still behind us."
But it was too late. From the end of the road, three black cars without license plates appeared, blocking the exit. The car doors opened, and men in black suits with weapons in hand stepped out calmly. Their expressions were cold, professional. They were agents from an organization that didn't even have an official name.
Kyoichiiro pulled Celia behind him, standing in front of his sister with a body slightly bent from exhaustion. His hands were empty. Always empty. At seventeen years old, he held no weapons, possessed no special powers, and didn't understand why the world was so intent on destroying him.
Agent #1: (flat voice) "Kyoichiiro Khaneo. Age seventeen. Threat classification: Omega-level. Classified as a non-human entity with unlimited regenerative and defensive capabilities. Must be neutralized."
Kyoichiiro could only laugh bitterly. Non-human? A monster? He, who could do nothing when his father was murdered by an unknown assailant when he was six—only able to stare at the television screen broadcasting the news of his father's death without comprehending. He, who could do nothing when his mother died two weeks ago in a "perfect" accident. He, who could only read the farewell letter from Hiyori, his girlfriend of the same age, five days after her body was found with gunshot wounds.
"Take good care of yourself, Kyoichiiro. My most beloved person. I hope you read this final letter of mine. — Hiyori."
That letter was still tucked in his shirt pocket, damp from the rain and tears that could no longer fall. Kyoichiiro had run out of tears. Run out of anger. All that remained was exhaustion and a question: why?
He never asked for this. He just wanted to live peacefully. But ever since his father's death, dark entities had been relentlessly hunting him. They called him an "existential threat," "an immortal monster," "a dangerous anomaly." Yet, Kyoichiiro himself didn't know what made him special. He was just a teenager trying to protect his sister—his only remaining family.
Kyoichiiro: (hoarse voice) "What have I done wrong? I haven't done anything to you."
Agent #2: (raising his weapon) "Your very existence is the mistake. Your body, your unique cellular system—it is a weapon that could one day destroy the world's balance. We cannot take that risk."
They offered no further explanation. To them, Kyoichiiro was an object to be eradicated—not a human being.
Suddenly, from the rooftop of the building across the street, a glint of light caught Kyoichiiro's eye. A sniper in white clothing, wearing a mask and head covering, had been targeting him from a distance. His rifle was already aimed.
Kyoichiiro's instincts screamed. Not for himself, but for Celia.
Kyoichiiro: (pushing Celia) "RUN, CELIA! NOW!"
But Celia refused to leave. She clung tightly to her brother, tears mixing with rain on her face.
Celia: "No! I won't leave you again!"
A bullet shot forth.
Not from the agents in front, but from the sniper on the roof. The bullet was special—coated with a sample of Kyoichiiro's own blood they had managed to steal. Within Kyoichiiro's body, unique protective cells around his heart were capable of detecting and neutralizing any physical threat. That system was perfect, making him nearly invulnerable in vital areas. But this bullet was cunning: coated with his own blood, those cells mistook the bullet for a part of Kyoichiiro's body, thus not activating their defense.
The bullet pierced his jacket, skin, rib cage, and lodged itself directly in his heart.
Kyoichiiro: (staggering) "Agh—!"
He fell, but his arms still held Celia tightly. There was no sharp pain—only a deep, cold emptiness, as if his life was draining away through the hole in his chest.
Celia: (choked scream) "BROTHER! NO—!"
Her face was pale, her small hands pressing against the wound on Kyoichiiro's chest, which was already becoming soaked with blood. The blood wasn't ordinary red—there were faint golden glimmers within it, evidence of the abnormality he possessed.
The agents approached, weapons still aimed. But Kyoichiiro still had time. Fifteen minutes—a doctor once said that with his regenerative system, even if his heart was severely injured, he still had fifteen minutes before truly dying.
He used his remaining time to protect Celia.
With his last strength, Kyoichiiro flipped their positions, placing himself as a shield between Celia and the agents. His embrace was tight, as if wanting to merge them into one so nothing could separate them.
Kyoichiiro: (whispering in Celia's ear) "Listen carefully... run when they get closer. Don't look back. Live for yourself."
Celia: (sobbing) "Don't... don't leave me... like the others..."
Kyoichiiro smiled bitterly. His father, his mother, Hiyori—all had left him. And now it was his turn. But at least, Celia had to survive.
He stared at the agents drawing nearer. His gray eyes were already beginning to fade.
Kyoichiiro: (voice growing weaker) "Why... are you so afraid of me? I just... wanted to live in peace..."
There was no answer. The rain continued to fall, soaking his increasingly cold body.
In Celia's embrace, Kyoichiiro felt darkness beginning to envelop him. Final memories flashed by: his father's smiling face, his mother hugging him, Hiyori's bright laughter... and now Celia, her face full of the sorrow he would leave behind.
Kyoichiiro: (final whisper) "I'm sorry... Celia... your brother can't... protect you anymore..."
His breath stopped. His half-open gray eyes were already empty. His body, always called "the immortal monster," was finally still and motionless.
Celia screamed, a shriek that shattered the silence of the rainy night. But the agents didn't care. One of them approached, checking Kyoichiiro's pulse.
Agent #1: "Target neutralized. Confirmed, Kyoichiiro Khaneo is deceased."
They then turned their attention to Celia, who was still clutching her brother's corpse.
Agent #2: "What about the girl?"
Agent #1: (shaking his head) "She's not on the list. Leave her. The primary objective is complete."
They left, leaving Celia alone on the quiet street, with her brother's lifeless body in her arms. The rain continued to fall, as if trying to wash away the blood and tears that had been spilled.
But elsewhere, in a space between worlds, something began to stir. Kyoichiiro's death was not the end. It was the beginning of a journey that would take him to a world where all his questions might find answers—or perhaps, even more new questions.
The world had taken everything from him. And now, in the next life, Kyoichiiro would reclaim what was rightfully his.