Darkness.
Ethan Cross hadn't expected much after dying. No fireworks, no heavenly choir, no final boss waiting in some grand afterlife. Just… nothing.
Which, honestly, wasn't the worst thing. After months of suffocating in a hospital bed — weak, pale, tethered to beeping machines — the silence almost felt like mercy.
So this is it, huh? No pain. No noise. Just… peaceful...
His last memory was faint: pale lights, murmured voices, a nurse adjusting an IV, and then… the sound of his heart monitor flatlining. A single, long beep, stretching into infinity.
And then there was quiet.
Until there wasn't.
Shards of light.
They floated in the void — countless fragments, spinning lazily through the endless black. Each one pulsed with strange colors, neither warm nor cold, but… alive.
Ethan's body — or whatever he was now — drifted among them.
Shapes formed inside the shards. At first vague: silhouettes of colossal beasts, forests taller than skyscrapers, skies split by roars. Then clearer — dinosaurs clad in stone-like armor, bone-covered beasts dripping with crimson light, and totems carved from flesh and metal, pulsing with veins of fire.
And at the center of it all stood a figure. Vast. Faceless. Watching.
Not a god. Not human. Something older. Something infinite.
A single thought pressed into Ethan's soul:
"Fragment scattered. Cycle awakens."
The shards whirled faster, colliding, shattering, reforming. Their hum became a roar, vibrating through him until he thought he might split apart.
"Rise… reborn."
The light swallowed him whole.
Screaming. Drums. Firelight.
The world slammed into Ethan all at once.
Heat. Smoke. The stench of blood and burning wood.
And his own voice — high-pitched, helpless, infantile.
Wait. Why do I sound like a dying puppy?!
His vision blurred. Flickers of orange flame. Dark silhouettes. Flashes of red and white. Strong hands lifted him into the air, wrapping him in coarse fur that scratched his new skin.
"Gu'kara! Niru'thak!"
The chant thundered in his ears — dozens of voices shouting foreign syllables, rhythmic and harsh.
Faces loomed over him, painted with white clay and streaked with crimson. Feathers, bones, and furs adorned their bodies. Necklaces of sharpened teeth clattered as they moved.
Beyond them, mounted atop tall wooden poles, massive skulls stared down at him. Some were elongated like crocodiles, others horned like demons. Their jagged teeth gleamed in the firelight.
The people stomped and chanted, shaking the dirt beneath them:
"Ka'ru! Ka'ru! Ka'ru!"
A woman stepped forward. Young but hardened — her hair braided with feathers, skin painted in swirling white patterns. Her golden eyes glowed faintly in the firelight as she cradled him against her chest.
"Ka'ru'nath…" she whispered, voice trembling.
The word meant nothing to him — yet warmth flooded through him. Like a prayer. Like a name.
His name.
Ka'ru? Guess Ethan Cross isn't coming back, huh…
The woman smiled softly, tears brimming in her glowing eyes. For a heartbeat, the chaos outside didn't matter.
She had her child.
The chanting continued as she carried him into a round hut. The noise dulled, replaced by the soft crackle of an indoor fire and the faint hum of wind outside.
The hut smelled of smoke and herbs. Carvings lined the walls — spirals, snarling beasts, faceless figures. In the corner stood a totem: carved from black wood, painted with crimson lines that pulsed faintly like veins. Its hollow eyes seemed to follow him.
She laid him on a bed of woven reeds. Her hands trembled, but not from weakness — from awe. From pride.
Leaning close, she pressed her forehead to his. Her voice broke as she whispered something foreign yet tender — lullabies he didn't understand but somehow felt.
For the first time since his death, Ethan didn't feel alone.
Outside, the drums stopped.
A low rumble rolled through the earth. Pots rattled. The hut's walls quivered.
…Earthquake?
No. Footsteps.
Heavy. Slow. Each one a dull thunderclap.
Shadows stretched across the doorway. The fire flickered violently.
Then he saw it.
A colossal silhouette.
Jaws lined with knives. Eyes glowing faint red. A tail like a living whip tearing through the jungle behind it.
A Tyrannosaurus.
But not the museum skeletons he'd seen as a kid. This one radiated power — heat shimmering around its body, an aura that made the very air crackle.
The tribespeople outside fell silent. Then, in one synchronized motion, they dropped to their knees. Foreheads pressed to dirt.
His mother stiffened. Her golden eyes narrowed, glowing brighter as if preparing to fight — or flee.
Ethan?
He drooled.
Yep. Definitely real. Definitely huge. And definitely about to eat us.
The ground trembled with every step the beast took.
Inside the hut, the totem pulsed. The same cosmic shards from before flickered faintly around it, visible only to Ethan.
Wait… why can I see this?
The shards swirled, forming strange runes he couldn't read. Whispers crawled through the air — faint, layered voices overlapping.
"Fragment scattered. Cycle awakens."
Ethan's newborn body trembled, yet deep inside him — past fear, past confusion — something stirred. The same strange warmth from the void returned, wrapping around his soul.
Outside, the dinosaur roared.
The sound wasn't just loud. It was primordial — the kind of sound that made bones ache and hearts seize. The firelight surged higher. The wind screamed through the huts.
His mother shielded him with her body, whispering frantic prayers.
Ethan's cries stopped.
The shards flared.
For a brief heartbeat, the world slowed.
The fire outside froze mid-flicker. The roar of the beast stretched into silence.
And Ethan — a helpless newborn, reincarnated in a world of beasts and chaos — felt it.
A connection.
Faint, fragile. But real.
The fragment has chosen.