'Where... am I?'
Heavy pressure was the first thing Malik felt.
A cold weight that crushed the air right out of his ribs.
His eyes snapped open, but instead of the dim light he expected, there was only a murky, suffocating blue.
He gasped, a reflexive instinct for survival, but no air met his throat.
Instead, a rush of liquid surged into his lungs, followed by an immediate burning sensation.
Malik was far from a survival expert, but he understood that this was what drowning felt like.
'Move!'
His mouth quickly clamped shut, and though his limbs felt like they had never been heavier, he fought against the water, swimming faster than ever towards the distorted light above.
Every second felt like an agonizing minute, where he was constantly in and out of consciousness. Yet, he didn't dare stop, kicking hard with his boots, until finally...
"Haaa!"
His head broke the surface.
Malik surged upward, gasping while scrambling towards the nearest solid ground. He threw his trembling body onto the shore as fast as he could and roughly fell on his stomach.
He hacked up a storm, water spraying from his throat until his lungs finally took in a shaky, whistling breath of air.
Flipping onto his back, he wiped the last of the moisture from his eyes and laid there for a moment, stabilizing his breathing.
Malik would've lain there all day if he could; his body felt that exhausted, but he knew that he had to move. Otherwise, the two Suns in the clear sky above would've cooked him alive.
The wetness in his body was already beginning to dry; it was just that hot.
And yes, 'two Suns...' not one. But that wasn't the only strange thing present.
Around him seemed to be an endless gray desert spotted with jagged spires of glass.
It looked like the world had been painted over and then left to bake.
'Where the Hell am I?'
Again, he asked the same question.
He didn't have the mental room to process the impossibility of this all, too busy trying to process what had just happened to him.
Malik looked down at his hands. They were huge. Thick, scarred, and wrapped in leather grips that felt natural, like he'd been born holding them. He realized he was clutching a sword—a massive slab of steel that looked like it could cleave a house in half.
His clothes were different, he looked odd.
And who the Hell wore entirely black clothes in the desert?!
He was drinking in a pond that reflected his face.
He lifted the blade, using the polished flat of the metal as a makeshift mirror.
Who is this guy? The reflection staring back wasn't the Malik he remembered. This man was towering, his frame packed with dense, functional muscle that stretched a rugged tunic to its limits. His hair was a bright, aggressive gold, tied back into a long rat tail that flicked over his shoulder. He looked like a man who had been chewed up by a war and spat back out because he tasted too much like iron.
He raised a brow. The reflection did the same, looking significantly more intimidating while doing it.
Tougher. Colder. Like I spent a decade in a blender.
It was his face, but a version that had seen the end of the world and didn't think much of it. Malik shrugged. It was a better look than his old one, honestly.
A voice drifted over the crest of a nearby dune.
"It wasn't that many."
Malik turned his head. His hearing was unnaturally sharp; the voice sounded like it was right next to him, even though the speaker was dozens of yards away. He stood up, the sand crunching under boots that felt like they weighed ten pounds each, and hiked up the dune to see what the fuss was about.
At the bottom of the slope stood a young man with messy blue hair, looking stressed out.
"What?" the kid asked, looking annoyed.
Opposite him, perched on a jagged rock, was a crimson owl. It wasn't a normal bird. It had eyes that looked way too human and a posture that screamed 'I'm better than you.'
"I'm saying you didn't get seven million," the owl said, its voice a smooth, mocking tenor. "Six million at max."
The blue-haired kid threw his hands up. "For a day's work? I must say that it is good enough!"
"I didn't say it isn't," the kid continued, pacing back and forth. "I'm only asking you not to outshine me too much. I'm supposed to be the commander here, you know."
The owl let out a dry, clicking chuckle.
Malik watched them, his expression flat. Six million? What are they killing? Ants?
The blue-haired kid turned away from the owl, his face shifting from annoyed teenager to grim leader in a heartbeat. He looked out over the flat expanse beyond the dunes. Malik followed his gaze and realized they weren't alone.
Thousands—no, tens of thousands—of people were gathered there. They were all draped in thick, dark cloaks, their faces obscured, standing in silent, rigid formation. They looked like a forest of shadows against the gray sand.
"O people of Markaz!" the blue-haired kid shouted. His voice echoed with a power that made the air vibrate.
He climbed a small rise, facing the army. "You heard Master Sinbad! Six million of them just today! What about you?! You must be stronger! You are the front line! The last stronghold pushing back Corruption from reaching all of our families!"
The crowd didn't cheer. They roared. It was a guttural, desperate sound that made Malik's ears ring.
Corruption? Pushing back? Malik scratched his chin. I've definitely walked into the wrong neighborhood.
"Be not afraid!" the kid—Aladdin, apparently—roared, clutching his chest. "If Fate has you written dead today, then speak only of His name. Remember His Titles!"
He looked like he was about to explode with fervor. "Tell Fate that He commands you to stand up!"
The soldiers went wild. They slammed swords against shields, a rhythmic, metallic thunder that shook the ground under Malik's feet.
"We are here, O Sultan!" they screamed in unison.
Malik watched Aladdin's eyes. The kid looked like he was worshipping the suns just by looking at them.
Fanatics, Malik thought, his lip curling slightly. I hate fanatics. Too much shouting.
"Yes. We are here, O Second Sun," the soldiers chanted.
Malik took a step back. He wanted no part of this. He didn't know who the Sultan was, he didn't care about the Second Sun, and he definitely didn't want to be on the front line of whatever "Corruption" was.
Then, Aladdin turned eastward. His gaze went past the army, toward the horizon where the gray sand seemed to stretch into infinity.
"By your grace, my Sultan," Aladdin whispered, though his voice carried. "I, Aladdin, shall lead these people to victory."
The moment the words left his lips, the world changed.
High in the sky, miles away, a single black dot appeared. It looked like a drop of ink on a canvas. Then it split. One became two. Two became four.
In heartbeats, the sky wasn't plum-colored anymore. It was being blotted out by a literal ocean of black specks. Millions of them. They moved with a horrific, jerky speed, swarming forward like a locust plague from hell.
The suns tried to fight back, their light burning through the gaps, but the sheer volume of the "dots" was winning. The gray desert beneath them turned pitch black as their shadows swallowed the land.
As they got closer, Malik's eyes adjusted. These weren't birds. They weren't even animals.
They were nightmares. Humanoid-ish, but everything was wrong. Their skin was a slick, oily black, covered in thumping, purple veins that looked ready to burst. Some had ten eyes scattered across their faces; others had four right arms and no left ones. They were twisted amalgams of flesh and hate, their limbs elongated into jagged claws.
They were "Fallen."
"Are you ready?" the owl, Sinbad, asked.
Aladdin stood frozen for a second, his bravado wavering as he stared at the wall of death approaching. "I... I want to be, yet I can't deny that I'm terrified, Master Sinbad."
Sinbad hooted, a sound that might have been a laugh. "That's the opposite of bad. It only means you're not too far gone like we are."
Aladdin swallowed hard, a weak smile returning to his face. "If I die today, will you tell Amal that I love her?"
"Tell her yourself," Sinbad snapped, his pink eyes narrowing into slits as he watched the horizon. "Besides, if your wish is to die by Elder Brother's hands when he returns, then go ahead. I won't stop you. But I won't allow you to drag me into it."
Aladdin laughed softly, drawing a glowing staff. "At least I tried. But you must promise you will care for her and the rest above our people. They are most important."
"That goes without saying, boy. Now..."
The owl's feathers ruffled, his gaze locking onto the coming storm. "My only wish is that he returns while there's something to return to."
Malik tuned them out. He didn't care about Amal, or Elder Brother, or the emotional baggage of a blue-haired kid and his bird.
He was looking up. The sky was gone. There was only a ceiling of claws and teeth screaming toward them.
"Oh, Gods have mercy," Malik muttered. He wasn't praying; it was just an observation.
As if the universe had been waiting for him to speak, a sharp, crystalline sound echoed directly inside his skull.
[Ding!]
A glowing translucent script flickered into existence in his vision, hovering over the chaotic battlefield.
{Would you like to have a second chance at life?}
Malik's breath hitched. He looked at the monsters, then at the text. Is this a trick?
{Would you like to make it past this accursed day?}
Yeah, Malik thought, his jaw tightening. I'd prefer not to be monster food.
'...I would.'
{Would you like strength unlike any other?}
'I would!'
{If so, repeat after me...}
Malik braced his feet in the gray sand. He felt something shifting in his chest—like hundreds of glowing marbles rolling around in his soul, suddenly pulling toward a center point.
{DIVINE KIN--!}
"DIVINE KINGDOM, ARCHIVE OF FATE!" Malik roared.
He didn't even wait for the script to finish. The words felt like they had been carved into his throat, exploding out of him with a force that drowned out the screams of the approaching Horde.
The glowing orbs in his soul slammed together. A pillar of white light erupted from his body, turning the gray dune into a crater of glass.
[LOTTERY SYSTEM ACTIVATED!]
The ground didn't just shake; it groaned. The very fabric of the desert seemed to peel back as a massive, ethereal interface flooded Malik's mind.
[REVEAL YOUR STRENGTH!]
The first chapters begins with Malik asking in thought where he was. Describe how he looked around, seeing a different sky, with two Suns instead of one and a very different ground, a gray desert. And then describe how he looked at his hands and body. He realized that he had a sword there, so he picked it up and looked at himself through it. He saw himself, a golden-haired man styled with a rat tail. He was buff and towering.
He raised a brow, now confirming that this truly wasn't his body, or rather, it was a different version of it, as though he had the same features, the man in that reflection was a much colder and tougher-looking man than he once saw himself as.
It was like he'd gone through Hell without knowing.
But just as he thought that, he heard a young man's voice.
"It wasn't that many."
Walking over, a dune, he looked the distance, there, he saw a young-looking, blue-haired man complain.
"What?"
Opposite him, a crimson owl tilted its head.
"I'm saying you didn't get seven million, six million at max."
The owl chuckled at the boy.
"For a day's work? I must say that it is good enough."
"I didn't say that it isn't. I'm only asking you not to outshine me too much. I'm supposed to be the commander here, you know."
Though they were far, Malik could somehow hear them very clearly.
"O people of Markaz."
Turning around, the young blue haired man smiled.
He, atop a dune of grey sand, now faced many, all wearing thick dark cloaks.
"You heard Master Sinbad! Six million of them just today! What about you?! You must be stronger! You are the front line! The last stronghold pushing back Corruption from reaching all of our families!"
His loud words shook their hearts and confused Malik.
Just what the Hell had he been brought into?!
"Be not afraid! If Fate has you written dead today, then speak only of His name. Remember His Titles."
He clutched at his chest and roared:
"Tell Fate that He commands you to stand up!"
The battle-hardened men and women raised their blades and clanked their shields, roaring back in unison:
"We are here, O Sultan!"
Smiling at their words, he nodded, while Malik grabbed at his head.
These guys were obviously fanatics!
He wanted nothing to do with him.
"Yes. We are here, O Second Sun."
Especially that blue-haired kid! He was worshiping the Sun with his eyes!
Malik watched as he turned eastward and faced more of the desert, its sand similarly gray, a sight he slowly grew used to.
"By your grace, my Sultan, I, Aladdin, shall lead these people to victory."
Just as those words left his lips, a dot of pure black appeared high in the sky, far away from them.
This one dot began to multiply.
One became two, two became four, four became eight, and before most of the soldiers even noticed, they were upon millions of such dots.
Millions that continued to increase, fast approaching.
Beneath them, the gray turned black, and above them, the sky turned dark.
Yet, only for a moment, as the Suns above pushed back.
And yes, 'Suns' for there were two of them sending down their light, clearing the dark from the sky, revealing these 'dots' for what they were...
Beings of Corruption, too twisted to properly describe.
Humanoid, yes, but only vaguely, for they amaglimations of such characteristics, all turned extreme, painted black, with thumping veins on them.
Ten eyes instead of two, four right hands, none on the left, a massive center, and elongated limbs with claw-like ends.
Their true forms were long lost.
They had Fallen too deep.
"Are you ready?"
"Ah..."
Getting out of his stunned state, Aladdin looked back at the Crimson Owl.
"I... I want to be, yet I can't deny that I'm terrified, master Sinbad."
The owl hooted a chuckle.
"That's the opposite of bad. It only means that you're not too far gone like we are."
His smile crept back a little.
"If I die today, will you tell Amal that I love her?"
Sinbad shook his head.
"Tell her yourself. Besides, if your wish is to die by Elder Brother's hands when he returns, then go ahead, I won't stop you. But I won't allow you to drag me into it."
Aladdin let out a soft laugh.
"...at least I tried. But you must promise you will care for her and the rest above our people. They are most important."
"That goes without saying, boy. Now..."
Sinbad's pink eyes turned into slits as his head snapped to the coming ocean of Corruption.
"My only wish is that he returns while there's something to return to."
Malik didn't hear any of their cliched words and promised.
He was stuck staring up at Death.
"Oh, Gods have mercy."
As if hearing him, the moment he said that, a sound echoed in his head.
Ding!
And a Script appeared in his mind's eye.
{Would you like to have a second chance at life?}
His breath hitched.
{Would you like to make it past this acursed day?}
'...I would.'
{Would you like strength unlike any other?}
'I would!'
{If so, repeat after me...}
Malik prepared himself.
{DIVINE KIN--!}
"DIVINE KINGDOM, ARCHIVE OF FATE!"
His words came before the Script, as if he instictivly knew it.
Many orb like things in his Soul came together.
[LOTTERY SYSTEM ACTIVATED!]
And the dune he stood on trembled.
[REVEAL YOUR STRENGTH!]