In a remote corner of the southeastern continent, beneath the weary breath of early March, consciousness stirred.
A dull ache throbbed within Grey's skull, slow at first, then growing heavier, as though a distant drumbeat were echoing from within his bones. He could not recall the reason for this pain, nor even why he felt it at all, and the inability to remember settled over him like a suffocating blanket.
For a long, silent moment, he floated in a darkness without beginning or end.
A darkness so complete it felt ancient.
"…Why can't I move?"
The thought rose weakly, drifting through the haze. He tried to lift a hand, or perhaps a leg; he could no longer distinguish them, but his body responded like stone. His limbs were there, faintly familiar yet entirely foreign, as though he had borrowed a vessel not meant for him.
"What happened to me?"
He tried again, gathering what little strength he could find, but the effort only made the pain in his head sharpen, spreading down his spine in a cold shiver. After a while, he surrendered, letting his breath settle into the void.
"Is this a dream…? If so, why does it hurt so much?"
Time stretched. Maybe seconds. Maybe an eternity.
Then softly, cautiously, the darkness began to peel away.
At first, it was only faint color leaking through, like water seeping under a door. Then the black retreated entirely, and the world revealed itself with slow, deliberate cruelty.
A blood–red sky greeted him.
Not crimson from sunset, nor dyed by smoke or flame, but truly red, an oppressive, suffocating red that seemed to stain even the air. Clouds hung low, swollen with an unnatural glow, drifting like silent omens of disaster.
Grey exhaled shakily and forced his head to the side. The motion alone left him panting, but what he saw stole the breath from his lungs.
Ruins stretched before him.
Broken buildings twisted into grotesque shapes.
Steel supports jutted from shattered concrete like exposed ribs.
And threading through the desolation was a forest, wild, hungry, unrestrained, its vines strangling what little remained of human civilization.
Beyond the ruins lay a lake, wide and unmoving.
Its surface was a smooth mirror of crimson, reflecting the red sky above it until water and heaven became indistinguishable.
"…This isn't my room," he murmured, his voice scraping out like rusted iron dragged across stone.
The lake rippled once, as though disturbed by some unseen presence. But aside from that, the world remained eerily still. No wind. No birds. Only silence.
Grey stared at the reflected red sky, dazed.
The pain felt too real.
The air too cold.
The scent of dust and wet earth too sharp.
He tried to rise, but the moment he strained, memories tore into his mind like knives.
Grey Reynolds.
Fourteen years old.
A student of Moon Walk Academy in Griffin County, Kamui, southeastern continent.
Parents were Jack and Lilly Reynolds. A doctor and a nurse.
Both erased two years ago—not by disease, not by human hands, but by the divine power of God descending upon the world.
His breath trembled.
His siblings, one older brother, one younger sister, floated at the edges of his memory like smudged ink, as though someone had smeared their names and faces before he could grasp them.
More memories followed, belonging not to him, but to the body he now inhabited: the final thoughts of a boy who had survived alone within a corroded zone touched by god-power… until he finally succumbed.
Grey swallowed hard.
"…I died?"
The memory of his previous life surged forth as if answering him.
His stepmother's cold eyes.
His back turned.
The click of a shotgun being raised.
A deafening bang.
A burning explosion of pain behind his skull.
Grey flinched. That same spot still throbbed as though the bullet had followed him into this world.
"So I really… transmigrated."
His laugh was bitter, empty. "Even my name stayed the same. How considerate."
He forced himself upright, pain radiating through every joint. His leg felt wrong, fractured, barely holding, but he ground his teeth and endured.
"I need to see myself…"
Dragging his damaged body, he crawled toward the lake. Every movement was a battle, arms trembling, leg burning, sweat dripping into his eyes, but he refused to stop. Inch by inch, he approached the blood–red water.
When at last he leaned over the surface, the boy from this world stared back.
Pale skin, smeared with dust and dried blood.
A face marred by cuts and bruises.
Clothes torn to shreds.
Grey hair falling messily over grey eyes, and eyes devoid of warmth, emptied by years of suffering, carrying a quiet deadness that felt too familiar.
"Still… not terrible," Grey whispered with a faint, humorless smile.
The world around him darkened as more memories poured in.
A purple light had fallen from the heavens days earlier.
The boy had seen it and chased it, whether from curiosity or desperation, he no longer remembered. But before reaching it, a Minotaur beast had emerged from the ruins and crushed him under its charge.
Grey's gaze lifted toward the far side of the lake.
The faint shimmer of purple still flickered there.
He drew in a long breath, clenched his jaw, and crawled.
The journey felt endless. His broken leg screamed with each drag. Sweat soaked through his tattered clothes. His fingers dug furrows into the dirt as he pulled himself forward, driven by something between instinct and stubbornness.
When he finally reached the light, it was brighter than before, soft, pulsating, ancient.
His hand trembled as he reached for it.
His fingers brushed rough crystal.
And then...
Purple radiance engulfed him.
The ruins around him glowed. The red lake shimmered, turning violet beneath the spreading light.
"I… am so tired," Grey whispered as the crystal's warmth wrapped around him like a forgotten embrace.
Then the impossible began.
Wounds that had festered closed slowly, as though time itself reversed.
Cuts sealed.
Bruises faded.
The deep gash at the back of his head stopped bleeding.
His fractured leg knit itself back together with a warm, tingling sensation.
Grey stared, stunned.
"The crystal… healed me?"
Not completely, his muscles still ached, his bones still felt fragile, but he could stand. The weight of his own body no longer crushed him. Even his breathing felt deeper, sharper, as if something buried in his core had been awakened.
As foreign memories settled into place, the truth of the world pressed down on him.
This land was ruled by powers indifferent to mortals.
God's hand descended without warning, bringing destruction and miracles alike.
Zones tainted by divine power twisted beasts, cities, even humans.
To live here was to live on the edge of extinction.
Grey tightened his grip on the purple crystal.
It pulsed once, quietly, as if acknowledging him.
Grey exhaled slowly, a long breath that carried the weight of two lives.
"…Then let me see," he whispered, eyes reflecting the red sky and violet light, "just how far I can go in this new life."
The lake rippled.
The crystal hummed softly.
And with the echo of death still clinging to him, Grey stepped forward into the beginning of his fate.
**☺️😉**