Rain fell like knives.
Each drop carved into his skin like the sky itself was trying to kill him again. It wasn't just water. It was sharp, cold, and angry. Like the heavens had decided that dying once wasn't enough for Shigure Kurozawa.
He opened his eyes slowly.
The sky above was pitch black, cracked with white like broken glass. A void hung over him, deep and endless, stretching into a nothingness that felt… alive. It stared down at him as if it remembered something he didn't.
He was lying on shattered stone. His body was twisted in ways that should've been impossible. Right arm bent backward. Legs mangled. Chest caved in. Blood soaked the ground beneath him.
And yet...he was breathing.
He blinked.
No heartbeat.
No pain.
No warmth.
Just breath.
He sat up slowly. Bones reset themselves with sickening cracks. Muscles reknit, nerves reattached. His black cloak, shredded from whatever had happened, clung to him like a funeral robe. The blood stains never left. They never did. No matter how many times he returned.
Around him, the corpses began to appear.
One by one.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
All of them—him.
One had his throat torn out.
Another was split down the middle, chest to crotch.
Another was curled up in a fetal position, face frozen in agony.
And another held a broken katana…still whispering words that made Shigure's ears ring.
"I failed again."
He tried to stand.
Failed.
Tried again.
The world spun. Pain finally arrived—late, like it always did. But pain didn't stop him anymore. It was old. Familiar. Almost comforting.
He stood.
The air stank of rot and burning memories. The sky cracked again. Thunder roared like a beast chained in the heavens.
And then...he heard footsteps.
Clink. Clink.
Soft. Calm. Controlled.
From the edge of the ruined battlefield, a man approached. He wore layered black robes, threaded with glowing white veins. His eyes shimmered silver. His smile—soft and tired—felt ancient.
"Welcome back," the man said. "Again."
Shigure didn't speak.
The man didn't expect him to.
"You died in Timeline 3145," the man continued. "Stabbed through the heart by your sister. Again."
Shigure's eyes twitched.
"...Saya."
The name left his lips like venom. Like betrayal.
The man nodded. "She cried this time. That's progress."
Shigure clenched his fists.
"Who are you?"
The man knelt in front of him. He reached out, touching Shigure's forehead with two fingers.
Everything hit at once.
Flashes of worlds
Cities burned
Empires risen
Lovers lost
Friends betrayed
Demons fed
Humans hunted
And always…death.
3145 times.
And every time…he remembered more.
He screamed.
The sound ripped through the realm. It shattered the ground. His own voice became a weapon—raw, uncontrolled, primal.
The man didn't flinch.
"You've reached phase seven," he said softly. "The more you remember, the harder it gets to hold on to sanity. But you're still here."
"Why me," Shigure whispered, falling to his knees. "Why do I keep coming back?"
"Because your soul," the man said, "is the last unbroken one."
Shigure looked up. "What the hell does that mean."
"You were chosen."
"No," he growled. "I was cursed."
The man smiled. "Same thing."
Shigure tried to punch him.
But his fist passed through empty mist.
The man had vanished.
The air turned colder.
And then came the Voice.
It wasn't human. It was deeper than thought, sharper than steel, heavier than regret.
It spoke in all tongues at once. It echoed through the marrow.
> "The Abyss accepts you
Shigure Kurozawa
Anchor of Realities
Bearer of Eternal Agony
You cannot die
Until the final gate is broken"
Shigure gritted his teeth.
"Then I'll break the f**king gate."
The ground cracked open beneath him.
And he fell.
Fell through memories
Through worlds
Through time
---
Timeline 3146
He gasped, rising from a pool of black water.
Same pain. Different place.
It was a burning forest this time.
Trees screamed.
The sky bled crimson.
In the distance, he could hear himself screaming. A different version. Another Shigure. One who hadn't broken yet.
He looked at his hands. New scars. Same curse.
His katana reformed in his grip, pulled from memory, not metal. A blade forged from every life he'd lost. Its edge was dull—it only grew sharper when he suffered more.
He took a step forward.
The screams got louder.
And then—figures emerged from the fire.
Seven of him.
Each from a different death.
Each bearing the same cursed eyes.
But something was different this time.
They were angry.
"Why," one of them hissed. "Why do you keep going?"
"You should've given up."
"You're the weakest of us."
"You let her kill us."
"You let them all die."
"You kept fighting even when there was nothing left."
"You should've let yourself be erased."
Shigure said nothing.
The flames rose.
They charged.
He raised his blade.
And fought himself.
Every slash hurt.
Every hit scarred deeper.
It wasn't just physical.
They attacked his memories.
His regrets.
His guilt.
They showed him the little girl he failed to save in Timeline 839. The friend he betrayed in 1021. The kingdom he abandoned in 2120. The monster he became in 2833.
And always…Saya.
Always that moment.
Her hands shaking.
That blade sinking into his chest.
"I'm sorry
You're not my brother anymore"
He fell again.
Blood pouring from wounds he hadn't known were there.
His copies stood over him, silent.
And then they spoke as one.
"You are not the strongest
You are not the chosen
You are the broken piece
The gods left behind"
Shigure smiled.
Broken teeth.
Bloody lips.
"You're right," he whispered.
"But even broken blades can kill gods."
He stood again.
Because he always did.
Even if the world screamed no.
Even if his heart begged him to stop.
Even if his soul shattered every time.
He stood.
Because he had no choice.
---
Back in the Abyss
The silver-eyed man watched from above.
He sipped tea.
"Three thousand more timelines," he muttered. "And then...he'll remember the truth."
Behind him, titanic figures shifted in the darkness. Shadows of forgotten gods. Their eyes burned with rage and fear.
Because they remembered what Shigure used to be.
And what he was becoming again.