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Chapter One: The Breach
In the stillness of a forgotten valley, far from satellites and sky-watching eyes, the air warped.
A soundless shiver pulsed through space as the portal tore open—jagged, violet-black, like a wound in the fabric of Earth itself. Out stepped figures wreathed in obsidian feathers, their wings not quite organic, not quite divine. Their silhouettes shimmered with shifting shadows, and their feet left no trace on the rocky ground.
Seven in total. All of them Dark Angels.
The first to emerge—a lithe figure in glinting black armor etched with celestial script—stepped forward, scanning the terrain. A second angel landed beside her, taller, broader, with a helm shaped like a closed eye.
"Is this the planet that harbors the target?" he asked.
The leader nodded once. "Yes. However, we won't need to find the soul that needs to be erased. Which is fortunate."
She turned to face the others, voice like steel wrapped in silk. "We destroy the spiritual core of this planet. All souls tethered to it will unravel. Including the target's."
No one questioned her.
Without another word, they spread their wings and soared down, talons tearing through stone as they began their descent into the planet's crust. Layers of rock, fire, and molten metal gave way under divine excavation. It took no time for them—beings who existed beyond time—to reach the Earth's heart.
The core pulsed before them like a living thing—an orb of glass the size of a cathedral, brimming with plasma that danced in stormy spirals. It hummed with quiet defiance.
One angel stepped back. "Why is it… shielded?"
Indeed, a faint veil shimmered around the orb. It wasn't visible until they'd looked long enough. Something was protecting it.
The captain narrowed her eyes. "Irrelevant."
All seven raised their weapons, sigils igniting along blades and palms. In unison, they struck.
The world shuddered.
Cracks laced the core. A high-pitched whine filled the chamber, and for a moment, it seemed as if the Earth itself cried out.
Then—light.
Unbearable. Searing. Pure.
It erupted from the cracked orb and swallowed the angels whole.
---
Silence.
Cold.
When the Dark Angels opened their eyes, they were no longer in the Earth. They floated in darkness. A dead vacuum. The space around them was featureless, starless—like existence itself had been erased.
They hovered, wings folded, weapons drawn, each of them feeling something they hadn't in millennia:
Doubt.
"Something isn't right… Stay on guard!" the captain shouted firmly. All the Dark Angels straightened, weapons at the ready.
They tried to ascend, to inspect their surroundings—but their powers struck against something invisible. A sphere. A prison.
"Containment?" one hissed.
One by one, the dark beings raised their weapons, striking the invisible barrier in hopes of breaking free. But nothing worked. Even together, they couldn't escape.
"Impossible," one hissed, disbelief written across his face.
"Who dares to challenge our dominion?" another growled, agitated by their unfamiliar helplessness.
As the seconds passed in cold silence, desperation became visible in them. One Dark Angel couldn't hold it in anymore and turned to his captain, head hung low.
"…Captain… what do we do?"
It was one of the most shameful acts of his life. To ask for help was, to him, a disgrace.
The captain didn't answer. She, too, was trying to figure out what was happening.
But time was up.
They all felt movement.
Out of nowhere, from the abyss-like void, came eyes.
Hundreds. No—thousands. Stretching across impossible distances. And behind them, a shape—an entity vast as galaxies, moving like a dream barely remembered. It was not light. It was not shadow.
It simply was.
It gripped the invisible sphere between incomprehensible limbs.
And it watched.
The captain staggered back, lips barely moving.
"…The Absolute Observer."
At the sound, the being's eyes glowed.
A new light ignited—deeper, darker. It wasn't light as they knew it. It was fury, tightly coiled. Memory. Grief. A silent wrath that shook the very threads of time.
Every atom of their being was exposed—not weighed, not judged—simply seen by something that could no longer forgive.
And then—
Obliteration.
Not punishment. Not justice. Just erasure.
Nothing remained.
---
Tokyo – One Hour Earlier
The office lights buzzed faintly overhead. Rows of cubicles lay quiet as most of the workers gathered their things, voices murmuring goodbyes. But Ren Sakamoto remained seated at his desk, staring blankly at a spreadsheet that refused to fill itself.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, watching his colleagues shuffle out into the night, free.
"Overtime again?"
The voice snapped him from his trance. Turning, he saw a familiar face—Hayato Nakamura, coat slung over one shoulder, tie loosened around his neck.
Ren eyes narrowed slightly before he nodded. "Yeah. Still behind."
Hayato chuckled. "You really need to stop covering for the new hires."
Ren gave a forced smile, not bothering to answer. He didn't need to.
As Hayato turned to leave, he paused at the door. "By the way," he said, voice a touch lighter, "Aiko's staying late too. Guess you'll get to leave together."
He smirked. "Lucky you. Guess I won't stand a chance now... haha..."
Ren said nothing as Hayato disappeared into the elevator.
Lucky. heh, Right...
He watched the numbers descend, his chest tightening. Hayato. His best friend since childhood. Loyal, easygoing, dependable. And now the boyfriend of Yuki—a girl who had adored him for years.
But somehow, even with Yuki… Hayato had been going after Aiko too.
Aiko… the same woman Ren had quietly loved from a distance, for what felt like forever.
'It's... Just f*cked up.'
He felt betrayed, but he didn't know how to handle it. Hayato had been there for him during his lowest points—and he had done the same in return.
But now... this?
Sigh.
The complicated mess of it all clawed at him, but Ren shoved it down and returned his attention to the screen. Whatever this was, it wasn't getting resolved tonight.
He had work to do.
---
An Hour Later
Ren's fingers slowed on the keyboard. His eyes burned from staring at the monitor. Without looking, he reached for his coffee cup—only to find it empty.
"Of course," he muttered.
He stood and made his way to the break area. As he waited for the machine to dispense its bitter stream of caffeine, his gaze drifted—just for a second.
Aiko Ishikawa sat at her desk a few rows down, expression focused, glasses slipping a little on her nose. Her hair shimmered beneath the sterile lights. She was still working. Still dedicated.
Still… completely unaware of everything Ren felt.
And then the ground moved.
At first, it was subtle—a soft tremble underfoot. Then stronger.
Files fell. Chairs slid. Lights flickered.
Ren's heart kicked into gear. "Earthquake—!"
Across the room, Aiko jolted up from her seat.
Ren didn't hesitate. He ran to her, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her under the nearest table just as ceiling panels shattered above.
They crouched together in the narrow space, Aiko's hand trembling in his.
"Ren!" she said, clearly scared.
"W-we'll be okay, right?"
Ren nodded. Afraid that if he spoke, his voice would come out just as shaky.
They stayed under the table. She looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes as the trembling continued.
And Ren… blushed.
It finally clicked how close he was to her. Her scent, her presence—it overwhelmed him.
'Man, get a hold of yourself!'
But the situation was getting worse.
The tremors intensified, violent and unrelenting. The floor groaned. The walls cracked. Dust choked the air.
Half the ceiling fell, cracking the floor and threatening to destroy the structure entirely.
Ren's instincts kicked in again as another slab of concrete came down.
This building wasn't going to make it.
He looked around. The structure was collapsing faster than he could process. There was no safety. No plan. No escape.
Except—
The window.
"Aiko," he shouted, pulling her up, "we need to jump!"
She looked at him like he was insane. "What are you saying? We're on the tenth floor—!" A ceiling debris fell, cutting her off.
"We don't have a choice!" Ren half-shouted.
The cracked floor and the trembling made it harder but he tightened his grip and ran. The floor lurched beneath them, but they made it to the window. One breath. One second.
Then they jumped.
The fall felt like a dream—a nightmare.
One moment, they were in the sky. The next, close to the ground.
As they neared impact, Ren, moving on instinct, turned and pushed Aiko above him. Aiko looked into Ren's eyes, hers widening.
Then they crashed—onto the roof of a car parked below. Glass and metal crunched beneath them. Ren, having positioned himself under Aiko, absorbed the brunt of the impact.
Pain tore through him, white-hot and immediate.
In the last moment, He saw something. A being incomprehensible. With thousands of eyes... Before it all became,
Silent.
Dust filled the sky as the building groaned one last time and collapsed—away from them. A miracle.
But the damage was already done.
Aiko stirred first. Her head spun as she sat up, chest heaving.
"Ren…?"
He didn't respond.
She looked down.
His eyes were open but unfocused, body limp beneath hers, arms still wrapped protectively around her.
"...R-REN!!!" She shook him, screamed his name.
But Ren Sakamoto was gone.