How did I reach this point?
Seven.
The number echoed faintly in his mind.
His fist crashed forward, colliding with something that should not have existed—bone? flesh? shadow? He didn't know anymore.
Six.
His knuckles split further.
Blood streamed down his fingers, warm and relentless. With every strike, another layer of skin tore away, peeling back to reveal raw flesh beneath. And still, he did not stop.
Five.
The ground beneath him was soaked red.
Twisted corpses surrounded him—creatures with broken limbs, hollow eyes, and jagged forms that seemed stitched together from nightmares. Even in death, they looked unnatural.
Four.
His breathing was uneven now. Shallow. Burning.
Each inhale felt like dragging fire into his lungs. His arms trembled, muscles screaming, bones threatening to give way.
But he kept moving.
Three.
Why am I still standing…?
Another punch.
Something cracked.
Or maybe that was his own hand.
Two.
His vision blurred.
The world smeared into streaks of red and black. The sky above him stretched endlessly—deeper than darkness, emptier than void. Not stormy. Not silent.
Watching.
One.
A memory flickered.
A forest.
Cold wind brushing against bare skin.
A pair of arms lifting him gently—
"You're safe now."
His father.
Zero.
Rush's body gave in.
His knees hit the blood-soaked ground. His arms fell to his sides, fingers twitching weakly as the last of his strength slipped away.
More fragments surfaced, breaking through the darkness.
A house that never felt like home.
Cold stares.
Whispers behind closed doors.
"Why is he even here?"
"A mistake."
"Why is he even here?"
But there had been one light.
A hand resting on his head.
A quiet voice—
"I'm proud of you."
His father was the only one who ever cared.
And yet…
Rush had never hated the others.
Even when they turned away from him.
Even when they treated him like something less than human.
He still protected them.
Again and again.
Because that was the only thing he knew how to do.
Blood dripped from what remained of his hands.
His vision dimmed further, darkness creeping in from the edges.
Is this it…?
Am I really going to die like this?
For a brief moment, a single thought surfaced—
Will anyone… remember me?
No answer came.
Only silence.
When Rush opened his eyes, he found himself in a place beyond comprehension — a vast expanse of white that stretched into eternity. There was no ground, no sky, only endless light.
Suddenly, that light shifted. A brilliant glow gathered before him, forming into an orb that pulsed softly, like it was alive.
"…Where am I?" he muttered.
A voice answered, calm and resonant, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"This is the space in between — a path that lies beyond life. From here, one may return, move forward, or begin anew."
"…So I'm not dead?"
"You have reached the end of one life."
Silence lingered for a moment.
Rush exhaled slowly.
"…Are you God?"
"You may call me that, if it helps you understand," the voice replied. "I watch over the worlds that now teeter on the edge of chaos. Darkness grows stronger each day."
Rush looked at the light, his expression unreadable.
"Why am I here?"
The orb pulsed once.
"Because your story does not end yet."
Rush let out a faint, humorless breath.
"…You chose the wrong person."
"Did I?"
The voice remained calm.
"I did not choose you for your strength. I chose you because you were expendable… and yet, you endured."
The light grew brighter.
"Although you won't require my power... if there is something you truly desire, speak it now."
Rush hesitated, his voice trembling. "I… I don't want power. I just want a family that loves me. A place where I belong."
The voice seemed to pause, as if considering his wish.
"Granted," the voice said, its tone soft yet commanding. "You shall be born into a noble house, where love and peace await you."
Rush's gaze hardened slightly.
"…And in return?"
"You will live."
A brief silence.
"…That's it?"
"That is enough."
The light grew unbearably bright. Rush felt his body lift, drifting away as the voice faded into silence.
"…A new life, huh," he murmured quietly.
No answer came this time.
The endless white dissolved into color — into a world of magic and steel, of swords and sorcery, of destinies intertwined.
And somewhere, far beyond, the universe itself began to shift — forever changed by the boy who was never supposed to survive.