Red stumbled off the devil's back, his body numb from head to toe like he'd been drained of every ounce of feeling. Each step was a battle—dizziness slithering deeper into his veins, wrapping around his brain like a vise tightening with every heartbeat. His hand throbbed painfully, the wound refusing to clot, blood pouring out in a relentless crimson river, slicking the cracked ground beneath him. The metallic taste of it filled his mouth, and the warmth trickled down his arm, cold fear pooling in his chest as he fought to stay upright, to keep moving—though every breath screamed for him to collapse.
No one came. No rescue. No hospital. Just cold darkness and a young man bleeding out alone.
I should've known… they didn't care enough to save me. After all I did. I sealed the devil, followed orders like a damn drone. Now? Nobody's coming. Eighteen years wasted in this messed-up world. They took my life. Those damn bastards.
Before he could finish the thought, his knees gave out. His body hit the cold concrete hard, blood pooling beneath him.
The void swallowed his mind — endless black filled with a buzzing sound that pierced his skull. Yet somehow, even with all that noise, his mind stayed sharp.
So this is it. I'm dead.
And for what? For some damn order from people I never respected, never cared about.
I didn't ask for this fight. I didn't want this mess. Just did what I was told, like always.
And now, here I am—flat out, finished.
The worst part? It's not some heroic end. No glory, no honor.
Just me, bleeding out in the dirt.
Dying from the blood I gave, the blood I spilled to seal that damn devil.
Not with a bang, not with a fight—just slow, ugly, and forgotten.
This is the real death. The one nobody talks about.
Maybe… maybe this is one of those second chances. You know — get dumped into a fantasy world or some lame-ass isekai. That'd be something, right?
Then a voice cut through the darkness. Familiar. Calm. Playful, even.
"Well, well, boy. Looks like you passed the test. Can't say the way you sealed that devil was right… but hell, it was the first time I've seen someone sacrifice their own blood like that."
Red blinked, stunned. That voice — the same one that told him to seal the devil in the first place.
"Let me guess. You're one of those beings from the novels. The kind that shows up, tells you you're getting reincarnated into some world to kill the Demon King and become a hero. Yeah? I wouldn't mind that either."
The voice chuckled, still elegant, still playful.
Light appeared before him — not white, not any color, but like a faded memory locked away somewhere deep.
"Relax, kid. You're not dead yet. And you're definitely not going anywhere. This? This is just another test. It wasn't supposed to happen like this, but we don't have much time. You'll understand soon enough."
Red's mind reeled. Alive? After everything? Darkness still clung to his thoughts… and that voice again — the same one that had urged him to seal the devil. 'Who… who are you?' he asked into the void that now filled with a bright light.
The voice softened but kept the playful edge.
"Call me seven. No fancy titles. No names. Just seven."
"Here's the deal: I'm here to wake your mark.
so you can take your trial, and learn to burn memories. I'm just the guy opening the door. Who sent me? Doesn't matter. Not your concern."
Red thought about burning memories, opening the door, the mark.
He could trust the voice for now — no bloodlust, no hate.
"Oh, and one more thing, boy."
The tone dropped, quiet and serious — almost a whisper.
"Don't die. Maybe we'll meet again. And don't burn your own memories.
If anyone asks about me, don't say a word. Or you'll lose those memories of this talk. You got that, slaver?"
The voice smirked one last time, then vanished. The light disappeared, plunging Red back into the black void and that ringing buzz in his brain.