Chapter 1 — The Book That Shouldn't Exist
Darkness.
It was endless, suffocating, and eerily quiet. There were no stars in the sky, no air, no sense of time. Just darkness… and then—light.
His eyes opened, not with a gasp, not with a scream. Just… slowly. Like a machine restarting. Blinking once. Twice.
He could see the ceiling — cracked, blackened as if burned by time, or memory.
Where… am I?
The thought struck him like a whisper, not his own voice but something from deep within — a faint echo that knew nothing. He sat up slowly. His body felt light yet heavy, like moving through water. The room around him was old and dusty. Planks of wood creaked under him. Wind howled faintly through broken windows. The place looked… abandoned.
No pain. No blood. No wounds. Just... confusion.
Then he saw it — a book in his hand.
A strange book, bound in a material he couldn't place. Not leather. Not metal. It shimmered slightly under the dim gray light slipping through the cracks in the roof.
Why is this in my hand?
The cover had no title. No author. Just faint static, like a broken screen — glitching fragments that flickered between letters and symbols he didn't understand. The edges of the book pulsed lightly, as though alive.
Something about it felt wrong. Like it shouldn't exist. Like it wasn't… meant for this world.
He hesitated, staring at it.
His fingers brushed the cover. Cold. Then, he flipped it open.
The first page was blank.
So was the second.
No publishing mark. No title page. No ISBN. No signature. Just emptiness.
He turned the page again.
The third page was no longer empty.
It held a single line of text, in glowing blue font:
> "Choose the card with the most stars."
Beneath the line were fragmented images — drawings that kept shifting like a living sketchbook. Some showed weapons. Others, strange artifacts. Some… he couldn't even describe. All of it looked like a warning, or a riddle. Symbols surrounded the images, rotating slowly as if orbiting them.
He furrowed his brows.
Choose…?
What kind of book tells you to choose something?
The next page came with a surge of cold air.
Monsters.
It was filled with drawings of beasts—some with six arms, others with giant glowing eyes, mouths stretching beyond nature. But the names of these monsters were broken, glitched, scrambled like corrupted data. The only things intact were the visuals… and the descriptions. Chilling descriptions.
> "Crimson Maw — known to melt steel with a roar. Weakness: ???"
> "Hive Tyrant (data corrupted). Wingspan unknown. Category: Extinction Tier."
> "Entity-00F7 — Unclassified. Avoid all contact."
He kept flipping.
The fifth page was filled with strange, beautiful letters — not in any human alphabet. The letters pulsed in rhythm, forming lines, possibly sentences, but he couldn't read a word. Still, they were arranged too neatly to be random. Almost… like they were watching him.
Then the sixth page.
It listed names.
Some of the names were clear, others corrupted like static. Next to each name were symbols — either red "X" marks or green circles. Some had both. Some names had notes beside them:
> "Do not trust."
> "Ally only after the 5th floor."
> "Sacrifice unavoidable."
He stared at one glitched name in particular — the letters scrambled, but it somehow felt familiar.
He couldn't explain it.
"Why do I have this book…?" he whispered.
He wasn't even sure he had spoken aloud.
Was this book… a prophecy?
A warning?
Or worse… a test?
He leaned back on the creaking floor, staring at the ceiling. No answers. Just silence.
The book rested on his chest like a weight. A pressure. Something ancient. Something that didn't belong here — or perhaps, he didn't belong.
Sleep called to him. And with nothing else to do, no memory, no direction, he let himself drift into it.
---
00:00 AM
The clock struck midnight.
A tremble ran through the ground. Then a sound like cracking glass — reality itself, fracturing.
A blinding blue-gold light erupted in front of him, jolting him awake.
A massive rectangular panel hovered in the air. It was translucent, glowing, and filled with code-like symbols. And words:
> "☰ Accessing System Archive…
☰ Cosmic Event Detected
☰ 100th Earth Cycle Detected
☰ Access Granted: Player ID #00000007
Loading… 100%
☰ ACCESS GRANTED."
He scrambled back instinctively.
Then — an earthquake.
The entire world outside began to rumble violently. Distant roars. Screams. Sirens. The sky turned a sickly violet outside the broken window, clouds spiraling unnaturally.
He grabbed the book and staggered toward the shattered glass.
Outside — chaos.
The moon cracked.
Literally cracked, like a porcelain plate, a dark line running through its core.
Lightning burst through the sky, but it was purple and red. Not natural.
A second panel appeared, directly in front of his eyes:
> "☰ Congratulations, Player #00000007.
☰ You are the chosen one."
And then, just as suddenly… it vanished.
In its place… floated three cards.
Each card shimmered in midair, orbiting him. Each had different symbols, different designs, but all carried one thing in common — stars at the top. One card had three stars. One had five. The last… had seven.
His heart pounded.
He remembered something the book had said:
> "Choose the card with the most stars."
Each card showed a different skill set, though the titles were hazy:
Flickering Fist [2★]
Phantom Cry Bow [3★]
Dual Space [5★]
Without overthinking, he reached out toward the seven-star card.
The moment his fingers touched it—
A wave of heat.
A pulse of light.
The card disintegrated into glowing dust and flowed into his chest. Golden light spread from the point of contact, crawling over his skin like living fire. Then came another color — purple, blue, void-black. They merged.
And then—armor.
A crystalline armor formed over his body — sleek, futuristic, edged in faint white. Glowing veins of energy traced his arms, his chest, his back.
Then, the final touch.
Six wings.
Not feathered — but made of space itself. Pure cosmic energy, shifting like galaxies. They shimmered in blue and purple, radiating pressure and silence. When they moved, the air bent.
His eyes widened as he looked at his reflection on the broken glass.
Who am I…?
Why do I feel like I've done this before?
The thought came — and passed. But he couldn't answer it.
The book remained silent.
The cards were gone.
But the world… was only just beginning to fall apart.
And he… had just been chosen to survive it.
Or die trying.