**\[Scene: unknown]**
Darkness?
No. That wasn't what this was.
This wasn't some storybook abyss, some poetic shadow meant to spook the ignorant. This was *nothing*. Not the kind mortals cry about when they're left alone, not even the kind gods whisper of. This was absence. Of time. Of gravity. Of self. A void so absolute that even the idea of fear couldn't bloom here.
He existed—but only barely. Just enough to hear it.
"My son…"
The voice came like existence hiccuping. Like language tried to speak everything, all at once. A layered chorus of infinite tongues, galaxies collapsing into vowels and expanding into consonants. He didn't breathe—he remembered what breathing *was* and knew he wasn't doing it.
And then the voice crashed again.
"MY SON!"
It shook what little of him still clung to form, like sound could peel back the lie of his stillness. And it hurt—not like pain. No, this was worse.
"You were the crown… you were the next ##@##…"
The words bled across the void, like divine echoes caught in a storm. Images screamed across his mind—
A throne of light with no end. A crown that breathed stars. A hand, massive and timeless, forged from pure eternity reaching toward him.
Then stepping off the throne.
And *falling*.
"You chose them…" the voice cracked now. "You chose to *understand* them. You let them in."
A million memories snapped into place like bones realigning. Blood. War. Laughter. Hunger. Humanity. *Mortality*.
"You *touched* corruption to *heal* it. And now… now it *stains* you."
The voice shattered now, not from rage—but from grief so ancient it made time weep.
Even gods can't watch their sons die slow.
"Even half of me… even I couldn't follow you down that road."
And that's when he screamed—not from pain. Not even from guilt.
But from the weight of a father's sorrow threading through his very *being*.
Somewhere above, light fell through that nothingness. Like a dying sun exhaling its last. And as it dimmed, so did he.
The last of his glow faded into the colorless sea.
And in the echoing silence of the void…
…the sky cracked.
---
**\[Scene: Mortal Realm | Douluo Dalu – Lower World]**
The air hit like damp cotton shoved into his lungs.
"Waaah! My baby's not breathing!"
A woman's voice. Her hands clutched him, trembling.
"Pump harder—He's turning cold!"
The world was chaos, hot and wet and *alive*. He gasped for air The breath of mortality choked him.
Up there, in the realms where names didn't matter, something still lingered.
"My son… even broken, even bound… *you are still mine*."
---
"Old Qian! I'm here!"
The boy's voice tore through the late afternoon sun like a bell made of joy. Black hair, skin pale like fresh parchment, gold eyes that shimmered like cracked starlight. Six years old—maybe.
The old man laughed, a broken, tired laugh—balding head reflecting the light as he scooped the boy up and spun him around.
"Little Sol!" he beamed. "You'll break my back at this rate!"
Sol giggled, arms wrapped tight around the old man's neck.
"Tomorrow's my awakening day… You'll come, right?"
"Of course I will," Qian said, ruffling the boy's hair. "I'd miss my knees breaking before I missed that."
The door creaked open and swallowed them whole.
---
Some people dream of being reborn into this world. Soul Land. Douluo Dalu.
They think it's some fantasy trip. Cheat codes. Spirit beasts. Waifus.
But for me?
This place was a damn funeral.
In my last life, I was broke. Dirt poor. Half-starved. But I laughed more in that trash life than I do here, surrounded by power and silence.
Here, you smile wrong, and you die. Power isn't earned. It's *proven*. And tomorrow…
Tomorrow decides everything.
"What will I awaken…" Sol mumbled as he watched Qian laugh in the distance, his old joints creaking louder than his door.
Eyes shut. Mind open.
*ding*
He opened his eyes.
Not to light. Not to sleep.
But to a *screen*.
A goddamn translucent screen floating in the air.
> \[Welcome to the Chat Group]
> This is a multi-dimensional chat group hosted by an omnipotent being from another reality.
> If you wish to join, say: 'Yes'
"...What the hell?" Sol muttered.
But deep down… a smirk tugged at his lips.
"...Yes."
> \[You have joined the Chat Group]
> Nickname assigned: *Broken Throne.
Yeah. That tracks.
> This group contains functions: Stream, Shop, Chat, World Travel, Quests.
> Would you like them explained?
"Explain," he thought, as Qian turned toward him, worry etched in the lines of his wrinkled face.
"You okay, kid?"
Sol blinked. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine."
"You sure?"
He nodded. "Just thinking about tomorrow."
Qian grumbled and walked off to fetch sugar-coated grapes.
> \[Stream]: Share your perspective to watchers. Complete viewer requests for points.
> \[Shop]: Buy items from other members' worlds.
> \[Chat]: Talk to other members.
> \[World Travel]: Self-explanatory.
> \[Quests]: Accept or create quests. Earn rewards, titles, items.
Sol licked a grape absentmindedly, the sugar sticking to his tongue. He waved Qian off and turned to the screen again.
> \[Enter Chat Room?]
"Sure, why not."
The screen shifted—
---
> \[TentacleMonsterStillAVirgin]: Yo newbie, you got any 'magazines'? You know, the *good* kind. wink,wink
> \[ExtremeFeminist]: Men are filth. Die slowly, all of you.
> \[BlindAs..]: Hello. Welcome.
Polite. Sol noted.
> \[IBleedMoneyBitch]: Welcome, my esteemed friend!
Classy. Probably deranged.
> [ManipulatedKing]: Welcome.
Simple.
> \[CapedBaldy]: Another cool name? Huh.
Wait… that… Saitama?
Sol raised a brow.
> [Brokenthrone]: Hello.
> \[TentacleMonsterStillAVirgin]: My guy. I'm the admin. Don't piss me off or I'll pixelate your kidneys.
> [BrokenThrone]: Noted.
> \[TentacleMonster...]: I like this one already. Composed. Not a simp.
> \[TentacleMonster...]: OH SH\*T THE FBI'S AT MY DOOR! OFFICER I SWEAR I DON'T EVEN HAVE A BASEMENT—
The chat erupted into chaos. One was talking about burning their own house to destroy evidence, another was arguing with someone who identified as a genderless moon. Somewhere in there, someone asked for recipes using dragon meat.
Sol chuckled. For the first time since he was "born," it felt like home.
A notification pinged.
> \[+120 Points Deposited. Use wisely.]
He leaned back
against the doorframe, chewing another grape, golden eyes gleaming under the fading sun.
"Yeah… this world just got a lot more interesting."
....
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