{Chapter One:} Awakening or Madness?
"Hot, hot. Painful, very painful."
"Ahhh, ahh. It hurts. Stop, please. Someone, anyone, can help me?"
Suddenly, "Raaaaaaah!"—a sound not even like the scream of monsters.
As if the devil himself were screaming.
He opens his eyes slowly because of the loud, annoying sound.
But when he opens them, all he sees is...
Monsters fighting and tearing each other apart over a human leg. A creature eating a pregnant woman's fetus directly from her womb while laughing loudly, and the woman tries to strike him with her weak hand, barely making him feel anything.
Torn limbs.
The shredded corpses scattered everywhere.
The monsters smile as they tear the bodies apart, as if enjoying it.
The wet chewing fills the place.
The smell of rusted metal pervades the air.
He frowns slightly, his breathing quickening from suppressed anger, hatred, and murderous intent. But the frown vanishes suddenly.
As he lowers his gaze while scanning the area, he is struck by a strange feeling: "My pulse... why can't I feel my heart beating?" he wonders about the absent beat.
Then… he feels something warm wetting his waist.
When he looks down, he sees his entrails scattered on the ground. There's a large hole in his body where his insides came out.
Suddenly he feels a pulse… but the location is strange: "What is this? Did some force awaken in my hand to make it beat this way?" He lifts his gaze to his hand and sees a scene he never expected.
His heart… is in his hand.
He vomits blood against his will but steadies himself with difficulty, remaining standing. Pain pierces his head. Cold sweat drips from his forehead.
The blood doesn't leak from him but flows silently, staining everything around.
He runs his hand through the gap and tilts his head thoughtfully: "Oh, what is this place? Strange. Did I do this myself? And why do I feel like… I belong here?"
His mind is almost burning from overthinking.
His breaths become shallow and rapid.
Suddenly, a sharp headache shoots through his head. When he opens his eyes… he sees a strange entity made of fire, black flames consuming everything they touch. But when they touch the hole in his body, they stop, staring at him with a wide grin.
His mind feels confused. Suddenly, a burning pain bursts from his chest.
He hadn't treated his wounds, and now he's paying the price…
His voice is broken and shallow: "Damn… what an idiot." He spits blood (a bloody cough)… "Damn it. How am I even alive after these injuries?" He says this as his vision begins to blur; he's losing consciousness.
But before he passes out…
He hears a faint voice: "Welcome. Did you enjoy hell? Does it hurt, my dear?" A gentle female voice, out of place with the painful scene.
Though he is dying and his stomach pierced, his mind refuses to calm: "What does this mean? Damn, can't I get a few extra minutes to understand more?"
Unfortunately, no miracles save him. The last thing he sees is the entity, its black flames growing thicker like impenetrable darkness, seeming to absorb light rather than emit it. But there's another feeling… is it… calling him? Before losing consciousness, he hears a whisper like a soft spring breeze: "Amazing that you didn't lose your mind. You are truly worthy of it. Can you choose me? I've been waiting for you for a veeeeery long time."
All that lingers in his mind is the entity's laugh, ringing like a bell.
Suddenly, everything vanishes into darkness.
His heartbeat returns automatically, and his consciousness slowly returns. He is sitting in his dim, narrow room.
The scent of wood mixed with paper fills his nose, blended with the wet earth smell from the rain.
A wooden bed, almost falling apart, the floor damp from yesterday's rain.
Yes. It's one of the commoners' houses in the borderlands, while the nobles live in central walled areas with greater security, but he doesn't care. Even though he hates the damn entrenched class system of this world.
Suddenly, he feels strange… steam seems to rise from his head, his features absent, lost, like a body without a soul.
As if he hasn't fully awakened from the nightmare yet.
His dark brown eyes half-closed, mouth slightly open, black hair falling on his forehead.
As consciousness gradually returns and he starts regaining control of his limbs, he slowly lowers his gaze and finds himself sitting at his worn wooden desk. On the desk is a book with tattered pages, open, though his vision is still blurred.
As his sight clears, his eyes widen suddenly. He is… holding a pen. And what's in the book is not words, but symbols and incomprehensible scribbles.
He thinks aloud: "Huh? Interesting. Was that hell just a nightmare? But the feeling… was real. Damn, my head aches. Why did I die before getting answers?"
His mind searches for an explanation. He feels like a piece is missing, something broken about this day.
He touches his face slowly and feels his mouth smile involuntarily.
That smile on his face—perhaps it can't even be called a smile—but the corner of his mouth lifts. It is extremely strange.
And while his mind tries to piece things together…
The door opens, snapping him back to reality.
A woman in her forties enters, black hair, features very similar to his, brown eyes tinged with black. She wears an old but clean brown dress, her beautiful smile never leaving her face as she says, "Good morning." She pauses briefly, then frowns slightly and continues: "Haven't I told you more than once to sleep on the bed instead of the desk? Did you get lost in reading and forget yourself again?" He lifts his face and stares at her, looking like someone just awake.
But the mother doesn't stop; she continues with a gentle yet lightly reproachful gaze: "You need to sleep well to build your body. Staying up late is why you remain short and thin while your peers are bigger than you."
As usual.
Despite her kindness, her honesty makes him feel as if arrows pierce his heart with every word.
Anas thinks to himself: 'Why do all mothers praise their children even if they are horribly foolish and weak, except my mother?'
But the truth is painful, and reality merciless. He is physically behind his peers, he knows it even before she says it.
He shows no annoyance at her words.
He speaks while closing the book normally so his mother doesn't notice the strange scribbles, saying: "Good morning, mother."
He stands and stretches slightly, then continues: "Yes, I know. But wouldn't it be better if you knocked before entering?"
His mother smiles, eyes narrowing slightly: "Alright, alright, my little one, direct as always. But I don't need you to knock, I'm your mother."
She pauses, then adds: "But, perhaps I'll knock when you get married." She sighs, falls silent, then adds before leaving: "Perhaps you should be grateful to that girl. At least she hasn't abandoned you, even though you try to push her away all the time."
She stops at the threshold and says suddenly, seriously: "It's better if you look for work and think about building a family instead of staying in your room all day."
His mother leaves, dropping what feels like a bomb in his head, but her words don't affect him this time. His entire being feels an unusual warmth, and all he can think is: "What does all this mean?"