Before the war drums of Druvadir.
Before the gods bled.
Before the Void carved his name into the stone of fate…
There was Tokyo.
Omori, to be precise.
A quiet, coastal ward on the edge of the world — or so it felt to Rei.
He lived alone in a compact apartment, two tatami wide, above a shuttered soba shop. The walls were thin. The wind from the harbor crept through the seams. But it was his. A place where the world didn't watch him.
No one did.
And in that silence, he was free — to drift. To vanish. To be no one.
He remembered that day clearer than most.
A cold Sunday. Late autumn. His coat too thin, but his wallet thinner.
Still — he had saved enough for a single thing: a movie ticket.
The train from Omori to Shinjuku rattled and groaned, packed with shoppers and half-asleep students. Rei stood with his hands in his pockets, staring out the window, watching Tokyo blur.
He liked Shinjuku.
Not for the crowds. But for the escape.
Billboards screamed. Neon danced. Giant screens replayed the same five ads in endless rotation. But above it all — towering behind the hotel and watching with unblinking eyes — was the great black head of Godzilla.
It rose above the TOHO Cinema like a guardian — or a warning.
Rei always felt it was both.
He slipped through the entrance of the cinema, past the tourists taking pictures with the beast's jaw. The building was warm, lit in red and gold, with movie posters shining like holy relics.
There, tucked between a romance film and a sci-fi epic, was the poster that caught his breath.
"The Lord of the Golden Rings"
A sword. A mountain. A figure walking into flame.
The theater was nearly empty.
Rei bought his ticket. Popcorn, too — the cheapest size. He sat in the back row, coat still on, fingers cold.
Then the lights dimmed.
And the story began.
He remembered it now — too clearly.
A mountain that burned.
A king who fell.
A sword that broke.
And a ring — one ring — that chained the world in silence.
Rei had watched as the fellowship formed, as friendships were tested, as darkness poured from the East. The words echoed still in his mind, even now, years and worlds later:
"Even the smallest can change the course of fate."
Back then, Rei had laughed.
He was just a boy.
A nobody.
Living alone in Omori, carrying nothing but emptiness and questions.
But now—
Now he carried a gem forged from a god.Now he bore the mark of the Rift.Now a dragon stirred, and demons whispered, and kingdoms watched his every breath.
He was no longer nobody.
And the fire was real.
So real it could swallow the sky.
A sharp voice broke the memory.
"Hey," Kaia said softly.
He blinked.
They were still in Druvadir. The forge's breath still filled the tunnels. Somewhere beyond, dwarves shouted orders, readying for war.
Kaia sat beside him, her wild silver-white hair tucked behind one ear. Her sword leaned against her knee. Her eyes — never unsure — now held something gentler.
"You were somewhere else," she said.
Rei nodded.
"Was it… home?"
"Sort of."
He told her.
Not everything.
But enough.
About the cinema. The Godzilla statue. The mountain on the screen. The ring. The boy who watched it and thought it beautiful — and tragic.
Kaia listened in silence, brow furrowed.
Then she smiled.
"So… you were meant for this, after all."
Rei chuckled. "I don't think so. I think I just… wanted to believe. That someone like me could matter."
She didn't say anything right away.
Then, leaning in, she whispered, "You do."
Rei looked at her.
And for a heartbeat, the forge-light flickered just like the projector once did — and he could almost believe he was back in that dark theater, twelve years old, watching fire and fate unfold.
But this time—
He was in the story.
And the mountain was real.
And the ring — no longer just a ring.
It was a Rift.
And he was walking straight into it.
Not because he was brave.
But because the world had already begun to burn.