In the cold visiting area of the prison, a boy leaned against the damp stone wall. He possessed a fragile, striking face — soft enough to be mistaken for a girl's from a distance — yet his clothes were wrapped in the filth of old rags from the slums.
In front of him stood a heavy iron chamber, its front covered by thick bars. The door creaked open. A man in military uniform stepped out, followed by another who looked sunken and far older than his years. Heavy chains bound the prisoner's hands and legs.
"Here, quickly finish your talk,"
the military man ordered coldly before locking the door behind him. As he walked away, a few muttered words drifted back.
"Why don't these sons of bitches just die already…"
The boy ignored the guard and shifted his gaze to the chained man inside.
"Raizal, why are you here? I told you not to come, son. They will grow suspicious."
Raizal stepped closer to the bars and folded the ragged sleeve of his dirty shirt.
I'm not going to keep living in fear of the military. Now that I know I am going to die, I will unleash some hell on them, Uncle Galen."
Galen's eyes fell on Raizal's forearm and widened in disbelief. The boy's skin had turned completely black, as if ink had been spilled across it.
"Raizal… when did this happen?"
Galen's teeth chattered.
Raizal offered a small smile, but his eyes lingered for a moment on Galen's neck, where the word DEFECT was brutally branded into the flesh. The same mark burned on his own neck.
"I just wanted to see you. If I get the chance to return to life, I will fight with everything I have."
He stepped out of the prison. While walking through the dirty streets, tears welled in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Meeting Galen had brought a fragile peace to his mind. Still, one more person remained to see. Only then could he fully accept his fate — his last day on this earth.
Raizal paused outside the prison gates as cold wind brushed his face.
"Looks like the training is yet to begin," he muttered.
He stood beside the military training ground. No sounds of gunfire or marching boots emerged from within.
"I can't believe the higher-ups still haven't given the order to execute every fucking DEFECT in the prison."
The familiar voice made him turn. It belonged to the same soldier who had escorted Galen earlier. The man stood at a small shop just outside the training ground, speaking loudly into a communication link.
Civilians crowded the area, roaming between stalls and shops. One detail marked them all — the word DEFECT burned clearly onto every neck. Only those in military uniforms bore unmarked skin.
Raizal walked straight toward the shop.
The soldier noticed him staring and irritation crossed his face.
"I'll talk to you later. Right now there's shit standing in front of me."
He reached for the cigarette packet on the counter.
Raizal's eyes locked onto the knife beside it. In one fluid motion, his hand grabbed the blade and slashed upward. The edge sliced deep across the soldier's hand, drawing an instant spray of blood.
The attack happened so fast the soldier barely reacted.
"AHHHHHHH!"
The scream ripped through the street. Blood dripped onto the wooden counter as the man clutched his wound, eyes wide with shock.
Raizal remained standing, bloody knife still in grip, the black mark on his forearm burning hotter beneath the sleeve. Civilians froze mid-step or quickly looked away. For someone who already knew this was his final day, consequences no longer mattered.
The soldier — Voss — staggered back, face twisted in rage.
"You fucking DEFECT piece of shit! I'll have your head mounted on the gate!"
He fumbled for his communication link, blood smearing the device.
"Control — this is Sergeant Voss. I need every available guard at the south gate now. Some DEFECT bastard just—"
"Wait a minute, sir."
The voice came from behind Raizal.
Voss froze. A young man in training clothes stepped forward.
"Sir, forgive him," that said urgently.
"He's got a bad headache disease."
He grabbed Raizal's wrist and began pulling him away. Raizal offered no resistance, a lazy grin already forming on his lips.
Voss barked, "Dashan, stop! This bastard just tried to kill me!"
Dashan kept moving, speaking over his shoulder.
"He didn't mean it. Serious headache problem. Give him an hour and he'll apologize on his knees—"
"Don't try to save him!"
Voss wanted to shout more, but his gaze caught the black fabric wrapped around Dashan's neck. He hesitated.
Raizal laughed — a rough, broken sound — loud enough for Voss to hear.
"You look better when you're not talking."
Dashan pulled him faster around a corner until they vanished into the shadow of a supply shed.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
Dashan demanded, voice low and controlled, eyes scanning every shadow.
"Well, just causing trouble."
Raizal answered with a tired yawn.
Even he wasn't entirely sure why he had done it, but guilt was absent. Seeing the second person he truly wanted to meet before walking toward his grave brought unexpected calm.
Dashan's brow furrowed.
"Causing trouble? Is the headache acting up again? Your body moving on its own? Whatever the reason, go apologize quickly. I'll handle the rest."
This was the first time Raizal had done something so extreme. Dashan had no idea the attack stemmed from complete free will.
"Yeah, I'll go. You should head to training. It's about to start."
Raizal gave a flat, unreadable poker smile. He avoided holding Dashan's gaze too long, afraid the only other person close enough to be called family might see through him.
Dashan turned and walked back toward the training ground. Raizal watched his back until it disappeared around the corner.
His gaze then shifted to the distant long gate. Bright holographic words flashed in cold blue light:
Restricted Sector. Raizal turned and moved toward the other side of the military training ground. Dashan, about to enter the grounds, kept watching him. Suspicion finally stirred when he saw Raizal heading casually behind the restricted area.
After a short distance, a tall building came into view, standing triumphantly in sharp contrast to the surrounding decay. Bold letters crowned its top: ISD — Internal Security Division.
A devilish grin spread across Raizal's fragile face. The black mark on his forearm burned hotter.
He walked straight inside.
The guards at the entrance stared in shock as the filthy street boy, DEFECT branded clearly on his neck, strolled past them as if he belonged.
Inside the ISD office, a soldier sat behind a metal desk reading a file. Confusion crossed his face when he looked up and saw Raizal standing there. Before he could speak, Raizal dropped the words casually.
"Sir, I think my mutation is starting now."
The room fell silent. The soldier's eyes dropped to the spreading black mark on Raizal's forearm, his face paling.
He quickly pressed the communication device on his collar.
"All soldiers near the ISD building, get into the office immediately! A DEFECT's mutation is about to be triggered!"
In seconds, soldiers rushed in. Raizal soon found himself moved into a different room — one unlike any typical military office. It resembled an indoor pool area, except a large lake had been dug directly into the raw earth. Four walls enclosed it, but the ground remained untouched and natural.
Raizal stood waist-deep in the cold water. Another soldier, shirt removed, watched from the edge.
The black darkness continued spreading across his arm, yet he paid it no mind. A strange heat rose through his body instead.
"Sir, identity confirmed. His name is Raizal Break. Expelled from training just one year after joining."
The officer in charge nodded, pity clear in his eyes.
"Raizal Break, I have two choices for you. But first — when did you begin feeling the trigger of mutation?"
"I noticed it this morning,"
Raizal answered.
The officer showed no surprise. Handling DEFECTs was simply their duty. These failures stemmed from the crimson rain that had fallen decades ago on the Day of Wrath, rewriting human genetics.
The failed became DEFECTs, doomed to violent mutation that stripped away mind and humanity, turning them into raging monsters. The successful became DISTORs, granted supernatural abilities to hunt the mutants.
The crimson rain had also brought another threat — an alien force from deep space that the world now fought alongside the mutant outbreaks.
"Raizal, listen carefully," the officer said.
"Because of your training background, even after expulsion, there remains a path. Option one: we allow the mutation to complete. You become a monster… and we eliminate you."
Raizal's jaw tightened.
"Option two: you enter the AFTERVERSE. If you claim your Tide there, you return alive — transformed into a distor. The defect brand will be removed forever."
The officer continued evenly.
"As you know from training, defects can only avoid mutation by becoming distors. That requires finding your Tide inside the AFTERVERSE."
Raizal already understood. The Tide referred to the supernatural ability granted to distors. Natural ones were born with it. For DEFECTs, the only path lay in the AFTERVERSE.
The black ink kept crawling upward. Strange heat rose from the water.
"Choose quickly. The mutation has already begun."
Raizal offered a faint smile.
"I already promised someone that if given the chance to return alive, I would do my best. So I choose the second option. Rather than dying without resistance, I would rather die fighting. One favor, though — there is a trainee named Dashan. Inform him about me once I am gone."
The officer listened, then ordered, "Bring it."
A wooden box arrived. Inside gleamed purple crystals. The officer picked one and extended it.
"Try your best, son. I will inform him."
Raizal took the crystal.
The black ink rapidly engulfed his entire body. His legs buckled. He fell backward into the lake, coming to rest horizontally at the bottom, clearly visible through the darkening water. The entire lake turned pitch black around him.
His eyes closed as darkness swallowed everything.
[SUBJECT. WELCOME TO THE AFTERVERSE — BE READY TO PROVE YOUR WORTH.]