Chapter 1 — The Right to Fall
He was still standing.
Not because he had strength left.
Because falling had to be his decision.
Beneath his boots, molten rock had cooled into cracked black glass. The battlefield stretched in every direction—fractured stone, burning fissures, the metallic scent of blood mixing with ash-heavy air.
This was no city. No kingdom.
It was a graveyard waiting to choose its final body.
His weapon remained in his hand. Double-edged. Long. Balanced. His grip steady—though the joints of his fingers were swollen and trembling beneath the surface.
Across from him, the enemy paused.
A laugh echoed through the smoke.
"Still standing?"
His reply was calm. Not loud. Not desperate.
"I will fall when I decide to."
The enemy's smile sharpened.
"Your body has already abandoned you."
Inside, he calculated.
Pulse unstable.
Energy flow fractured.
Structural integrity—failing.
Acceptable.
"I remain."
The next strike split the ground open.
He was thrown back—but he did not fall.
The second strike numbed his arm entirely.
The third reached his spine.
The enemy's laughter grew louder, more certain.
"Is this your limit?"
Within, he answered.
"The limit belongs to the body. Not to me."
He gathered what remained of his power.
Not everything.
Only what the vessel could endure.
Blue light collided with flame-red force.
For one suspended heartbeat, time held its breath.
Then—
Something fundamental broke.
Not bone.
Not flesh.
The core.
His vision blurred. Sound retreated as if pulled underwater.
Usage complete.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Now… I may fall."
And he did.
The weapon struck stone. Metal rang once before vanishing into ash.
The enemy stood over him for a moment.
"At last."
Then he turned away.
Victorious.
Arrogant.
Certain the war had ended.
He was wrong.
Beyond the Body
Sound dulled first.
Then color.
He looked down at what had once been his body—motionless, cooling, already beginning to lose its light.
Death does not extinguish immediately.
It fades.
He was no longer solid.
A human outline, but dissolving at the edges into faint blue particles.
Two points of quiet light where eyes had been.
"Delay would be inefficient."
Around him, countless auras flickered.
Most were extinguished.
Some lingered—too fractured, too unstable.
Unworthy.
Time was thinning.
Then—
Far beyond the battlefield…
A signal.
Weak.
But pure.
Strangely steady.
It did not belong to this realm.
And around it—
A fracture in space.
A life had just faltered.
Not fully gone.
He paused only for a fraction.
"Distance—significant."
"Alternatives—none."
And he moved.
Entry
Darkness.
Then warmth.
Not violent.
Not tearing.
No resistance.
No pursuit.
Just… quiet.
Suspiciously quiet.
He released a thin strand of energy into the vessel.
No rejection.
No fractures.
No decay.
Seconds passed.
"Interesting."
He could open his eyes.
He chose not to.
"Rest after battle is not illogical."
The warmth was steady.
Distant sounds filtered in—muffled voices, hurried footsteps, the soft rhythm of a machine.
He ignored them.
Fatigue, real fatigue, finally settled in.
"In this form… none will seek me."
Then suddenly—
Noise surged.
Urgent voices.
"Wait—hold on—!"
He attempted to speak.
"This location—"
What emerged instead—
A sharp, uncontrolled cry.
He fell silent internally.
"Unacceptable."
His eyes opened.
Bright white light.
Unfamiliar ceiling.
Figures in sterile clothing.
Machines.
He glanced downward.
Tiny hands.
Fragile fingers.
"...A newborn?"
A faint, dry amusement stirred within him.
"The universe retains a sense of humor."
He checked his energy again.
Stable.
Compatible.
No rejection.
For the first time in countless cycles—
A vessel that accepted him.
And it was… an infant.
The door opened.
A wheelchair entered.
The man seated in it looked exhausted—skin pale, body still weak from childbirth barely fourteen hours prior.
He had lost once before.
This time, fear had not fully left his eyes.
Behind him stood his partner—tense, holding himself together with visible effort.
"He's breathing…"
Relief trembled in their voices.
The monitors steadied.
The room slowly exhaled.
He studied their auras.
Weak.
But genuine.
No hostility.
No threat.
He made a quiet decision.
"No war here."
"No enemy—for now."
"Rest is permissible."
He closed his eyes again.
Not to escape.
To sleep.
He did not yet understand this world.
He did not yet know its rules.
But one truth remained intact—
He had not ended.
And this time—
The story truly begins.