In the middle of the city streets at Shibuya Crossing, Erthel stood alone. He screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing through the empty intersection.
"Why?!"
His voice cracked as he cursed again and again, furious at being dragged from one place to another without understanding why.
Exhausted and frustrated, he finally dropped to the ground. The streets were completely silent. No cars. No people. Only an empty road stretching in every direction.
Then suddenly— the billboards flickered to life. Erthel slowly lifted his head. Every screen around the crossing lit up with the same white image. Words appeared.
You can't save anyone.
The message repeated across every display, glowing coldly from every screen and device around him. Erthel slowly looked up.
High above the sky— a massive eye stared down at him. Watching.
The ground began to tremble. A deafening crack split the air as a massive hand burst from beneath the street, gripping a nearby building. Glass shattered instantly, raining down in glittering fragments.
Then— a single, thunderous footstep echoed across the empty city. Erthel's breath caught in his throat. Before him stood a towering giant, as tall as the Eiffel Tower.
Its body was grotesquely thin, bones pressing against decaying flesh. Its skin hung loose, rotten and streaked with blood. Tangled, sewer-filthy hair clung to its head.
Its jaw was broken, only the upper teeth visible like a skull. Its eyes— pitch black.
And within them, a widening crimson pupil locked onto Erthel.
Watching him.
Erthel couldn't move. He stood frozen as a foul, muddy rain began to fall from the sky. The air grew heavy, suffocating—thick with fear and despair. It felt like the giant carried nothing but wrath. A deep, ancient grudge—
aimed directly at him.
The giant lifted its hand. Then it moved.
Each step shook the ground as it charged toward Erthel.
"Move…" he whispered, his body refusing to obey.
The giant's arm swung down— and struck him with overwhelming force.
Creak…
The door slowly opened, a nurse stepped inside to check on the patient. She froze.
Erthel was sitting upright on the bed.
"Sir…?"
She cautiously walked closer. Then she saw his eyes. His pupils were gone— completely white, like a blind man. Her breath caught.
"Are you feeling okay?" she asked gently.
No response.
Erthel just stared ahead, emotionless.
Uneasy, the nurse helped him lie back down. But as she adjusted him, something felt wrong.
She leaned closer. No breath. Her hands began to shake.
"H-He's not breathing…"
She quickly reached for the phone. Suddenly— a hand grabbed her wrist.
"Ahh!"
She screamed and fell back. Medical staff rushed into the room. Erthel was sitting up again. It was him. He was the one holding her.
"Where's my phone?" he asked.
His voice was low. Urgent.
"P-Please calm down, the doctors are on th— where's my phone?" he interrupted, sharper this time.
The nurse hesitated… then handed it to him.
Erthel grabbed the phone and searched frantically. His hands trembled as he checked the date. Too late.
"No… no…"
He quickly called his assistant. No answer.
"Please calm down," the nurse said softly.
But Erthel didn't hear her.
He slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, placing the phone on the table. His hand covered his face. His breathing grew uneven, fear, anxiety, despair.
It all crashed into him at once. Then— the phone rang. Erthel froze. He looked at the screen. It was one of his most trusted bodyguards—someone he had grown up with. He answered. Silence filled the room as he listened. Then— his hand trembled. Tears began to fall. The phone slipped from his fingers and hit the floor.
"…No…"
His voice broke. On the other end, the words echoed in his mind.
His mother…was dead.
Some time had passed. A doctor stood beside Erthel's bed, checking his condition.
"Good thing your friend found you and called for medical help," the doctor said while reviewing his chart.
Erthel frowned slightly.
"…Friend?"
The doctor glanced up.
"Her name was Yuri"
Erthel's eyes shifted.
The class president…
A quiet unease settled in his chest. But her house is in the opposite direction… And that road… it's isolated. No shops. No reason for anyone to be there…
So why was she there?
The doctor closed the file with a small nod.
"Alright. It looks like you just need rest and medication. In a couple of days, you should be able to leave"
.....
Squeak…
The car came to a stop in front of the airport.
Erthel stepped out without a word and headed straight through the terminal. He passed the procedures in a blur, his mind elsewhere, until he finally boarded the plane.
Night fell.
The sky outside was dark, the clouds drifting beneath the pale glow of the moon. Erthel sat by the window, staring out into the vast emptiness.
Then— something moved. Above the clouds, a massive black figure emerged.
It resembled a fish-like body, yet from its sides stretched six enormous wings. And there— standing atop it— was a man.
The moonlight revealed his glowing blue eyes. They locked onto Erthel. Come back,
a voice whispered.
Erthel didn't react. He simply stared, as if such things had already become normal to him. Slowly, he closed his eyes, and drifted into sleep.
.....
Clack… Clack…
The sound of footsteps echoed.
Erthel walked through the cemetery.
Rows of graves stretched endlessly, and gathered ahead were his relatives, mourning in silence.
Today was his mother's burial. The air was heavy with grief. Erthel stood still for a moment, unable to step closer. It was too much. He turned away.
He walked deeper into the cemetery, away from the crowd, until he found a quiet place and sat beside an old grave. That's when he noticed it. A small pond, hidden among tangled roots and creeping vines. At its center— a single white lotus bloomed.
Alone. Peaceful.
Erthel slowly stood and walked toward it.
He sat down near the water, letting the silence wash over him.
For a brief moment… everything felt calm.
Bang!
The sharp sound of a gunshot shattered the stillness. Erthel flinched and quickly stood up, his heart racing.
"What—?"
He scanned the area— then froze.
In the distance, between the graves, a figure stepped out. A girl. She raised a gun— and pointed it directly at him. Erthel's eyes widened. It was his assistant.
"You…!"
Erthel's voice cracked as it tore out of his throat. The assistant stood before him, unmoving, no hesitation, and no emotion.
Just an empty gaze… like a weapon waiting to be used. A cold realization sank into him.
'I knew it…It wasn't suicide'
His hands trembled. 'Someone killed my mother'
"Who sent you?" he demanded, his voice shaking despite his anger.
The assistant said nothing. She simply raised the gun. Erthel's breath hitched. So this was it.
Then— a scream ripped through the air. It wasn't human. It was something deeper… something wrong. The sound burrowed into his skull, twisting, tearing.
"Agh—!"
Erthel dropped to his knees, clutching his head. Beside him, the assistant screamed as blood streamed from her ears. The gun slipped from her hand, hitting the ground with a dull thud. The world seemed to distort around them.
Slowly— they both looked up, and saw her. A woman floated above the ground in the distance. She was smiling. But there was no warmth in it. Her face was swallowed by darkness, as if the light itself refused to touch her. Only her eyes… and her mouth remained visible.
Watching. Waiting.
The earth beneath her turned black.
Something began to rise. Thin, writhing shapes pushed through the ground—like shadows given form.
Tentacles were moving and breathing. Alive. The assistant let out a broken gasp. Fear finally reached her. She turned and ran.
"Wait—!" Erthel called out, but his voice felt weak, swallowed by the heavy air. She stumbled through the graves, desperate Then—
Shrrk.
A sickening sound. The tentacle pierced straight through her chest. Her body froze.
For a moment, she didn't even scream. Then her eyes went empty. And she fell. Erthel's vision blurred.
"…No…"
His chest tightened. Anger surged through him—raw and desperate. He ran forward, grabbing the fallen gun with shaking hands.
He aimed. Fired.
Bang!
The bullet struck— and vanished. No impact.
No reaction. Nothing.
The woman didn't move. She only smiled wider. Something snapped inside Erthel.
"Damn you…!"
A shadow lunged toward him. He barely dodged, stumbling to the side as the tentacle tore through the ground where he stood. Another one came. Faster. He raised his arms— Too slow. The impact hit him like a crushing wave. Pain exploded through his body. He was thrown back, crashing into the graves, stone breaking beneath him as he slammed into the ground. Air escaped his lungs.
For a moment— he couldn't breathe. He lay there, trembling. Broken. Powerless.
Above him— she still floated. Unchanging.
Unreachable. Her eyes locked onto his.
And her voice, soft and distant, slipped into his mind—
"Do you understand what you just did!?", 'How am I gonna know who is behind my mother's death'
Then— a surge of memories crashed into his mind. Battlefields, blood, endless fighting.
Voices. Movements. Instincts. It felt like a lifetime—no, lifetimes—of combat forced into him all at once. The girl's tentacle lashed toward him again. But this time— Erthel moved. He dodged effortlessly. His body reacted on its own, precise and controlled, as if guided by a seasoned warrior who had fought for decades. His breathing steadied.
His eyes sharpened. And the world around him— slowed.
The tentacles came faster. He slipped past them. Stepped through them. Every movement calculated. Erthel ran forward.
Closing the distance. The girl's smile faltered. For the first time— she moved back.
She's retreating… Erthel's mind worked rapidly. He adjusted his steps, subtly guiding her path— forcing her into a narrow space between layered graves. Cornered.
A tentacle shot toward him. He caught it. His hand tightened around the writhing shadow and— ripped it away. The girl screamed. A sharp, unnatural sound that echoed across the cemetery. Erthel stepped in. Raised his fist— ready to strike, and everything vanished.
In an instant— he was standing in the middle of a road. Erthel froze.
"…What…?"
The cemetery was gone. The girl was gone.
The silence was gone.
Murmurs filled the air.
Murmur… murmur…
Voices surrounded him, people staring,
whispering. Erthel looked around, disoriented. Buildings. Streets. Crowds.
A normal place. Too normal.
Then— his mind flooded again. Memories surged through him. Not visions this time.
Real memories. Living here, walking these streets, speaking to people. Growing up—
in this place. He staggered slightly.
"…No… this isn't…"
His breath grew uneven.
"I was just—"
The cemetery. The girl. The fight.
Realization struck him. He slowly looked down at himself.
"I'm… back?"
A voice suddenly cut through the noise.
"Did that girl just turn into a man?!"
Erthel looked up.
A child stood nearby, pointing directly at him.
Eyes wide.
Shhh... The mother beside him covered his sons mouth.
The crowd grew louder. Whispers turned into uneasy chatter. All eyes were on him.
Erthel stood in the middle of it all— caught between two lives.
"He must be from a rich family… look at his clothes."
Whispers spread through the crowd as people stared at Erthel.
This place… I remember it. His chest tightened. I lived here… A little girl…
He steadied himself, forcing his thoughts into place. If this world truly mirrored the one he came from— if everything that happened there could happen here— then there was only one thing that mattered.
Mother… She should be alive. Erthel ran. He sprinted through the streets, turning corners without thinking. Every path felt familiar, like a memory guiding his steps.
He didn't stop. Not until— he reached the house. It wasn't large. Not luxurious. Just simple and quiet. But to him— it meant everything. Erthel stood at the front door, catching his breath. His hand trembled as he reached out and slowly pushed it open.
Creak…
Inside, a staircase stood ahead. He turned his head slightly— and froze. There she was.
Standing by the side, cleaning. Alive. His heart pounded violently in his chest. If this world is truly the same… then her name—
It had to be. The same name he had whispered before everything was taken from him.
"…Hanna… Mom…"
His voice was soft. Fragile. Almost afraid.
She paused. Then slowly turned to face him.
Her brows furrowed slightly in confusion.
"Why did you call my name like that?" she asked gently.
"And why are you home so early, sweetie?"
Erthel couldn't answer.
He just stood there— staring at her. Afraid that if he blinked— she might disappear again.
....
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