The sky burned a foreboding grey, an omen urging mortals to flee before the inevitable reckoning. Above, the sun glowed a sinister crimson, a harbinger of the blood that would soon stain the heavens. Violent winds howled across the lands, toppling mountains and rending the earth, while the sea roared with fury, its monstrous waves crashing in chaotic defiance. Amidst this cataclysm, we, the beings of absolute power, stood on the precipice of war—a battle that would pit the myths of old against the legends of a new age.
The struggle was merciless, a maelstrom of opposing forces clashing with unrelenting ferocity. We, wielders of unfathomable strength, found ourselves faltering. Our divine blood painted the sky, and the anguished cries of our fallen brethren echoed through the cosmos, mourning the ruin of an era. The great ones, relentless and unwavering, shattered our ranks. Even the strongest among us, once thought invincible, were brought to their knees.
Thunder roared across the heavens as a mighty figure fell before me, his armor shattered, his lifeblood pouring like a dying star. His fading gaze met mine, unspoken words lingering in the air before he was consumed by oblivion. I clenched my fists, my own wounds ignored in the face of absolute ruin. How had it come to this? Were we not the harbingers of fate? Were we not gods?
"Oh, my mighty soldier… last of the sons of the Beginning," a voice resounded, shaking the very fabric of existence, splintering the foundations of the universe.
"Poor soldier of mine…" A second voice, laced with sorrow and boundless compassion, resonated with a power capable of breaking even the most unyielding spirit.
"Oh, Great and Destined One, tell me what you desire," a third voice intoned, its soothing cadence mending wounds and dissolving even the deepest agonies.
In that moment, I understood the gravity of my fate. These voices, each more profound than the last, belonged to none other than the Beginning itself—the origin of all creation.
"I, the last of your children, wish to fulfill your final request. My body is frail and battered; I can no longer serve my purpose in this war," I said, bowing in reverence before the Beginning.
"Then I shall command you my last request," the voice of healing decreed.
"Enter the land of mortals and bestow a gift upon a child," whispered the sorrowful voice.
"Be born anew and deliver absolute order to the mortal realm," commanded the trembling voice.
Thus, my purpose was set. I was to forsake the realm of absolute power and descend to Earth, the world of mortals, bearing a gift from the Beginning to one destined child.
The mortal world was fragile, ephemeral—a realm where powerless beings toiled under the crushing weight of fate. Unlike us, boundless and eternal, mortals were shackled by an existence dictated by fleeting triumphs and unrelenting despair. Upon my arrival, the stark contrast to my former realm was striking. The rolling fields, vibrant and green, and the towering mountains were undeniably beautiful, yet they carried an undercurrent of inevitable decay.
For what felt like an eternity, I wandered through this fragile world, searching for the one deemed worthy of the gift. A millennium passed in fruitless pursuit. Hope began to wane—until, one fateful night, the anguished cry of an infant shattered the silence on the outskirts of a southeastern land.
That cry—it was the same as the wails of my fallen brethren, their lifeblood staining the heavens in our final battle. My heart, once unmoved by mortal affairs, now ached with an unfamiliar sorrow. There, abandoned and vulnerable in a merciless world where predators prowled and fate remained unyielding, lay the child.
In that moment, I knew. This fragile soul, left to perish beneath an indifferent sky, was the one. The destined child.
I knelt before the infant, the weight of my existence unraveling as I reached out. With a mere breath, I bestowed the gift—a beacon of defiance against fate's cruel dominion. As the essence of my being transferred, my form began to disintegrate, my purpose fulfilled.
With my final moments, I uttered a silent prayer: that this child would one day rise beyond the chains of destiny and carve a path unlike any before.
Seventeen Years Later…
The dream returned again—an endless vision of an ancient war, divine voices echoing through the heavens. The clash of steel, the cries of the fallen, and the blinding radiance of celestial beings haunted me for as long as I could remember, lingering in my mind like a forgotten prophecy. Their words were always indistinct, lost in the cacophony of battle, yet a single phrase burned itself into my mind each time: "The harbinger shall awaken."
I never knew my parents. The caretakers at the orphanage told me I was found as an infant in a remote village high in the mountains, wrapped in an old cloth embroidered with unfamiliar symbols. They named me Ezekiel Rhea, after the orphanage's late owner, who had passed away long before I arrived. Though I never met him, I visited his grave every year since I turned thirteen, offering silent gratitude for the home he had unknowingly provided me.
Now seventeen, I remained in the orphanage. Unlike other teenagers who embraced the freedoms of youth, my life had been structured and disciplined. The orphanage provided private tutors for my education, and though I excelled academically, I often wished for the experience of a proper school. The laughter and chatter of students walking home together, the energy of a crowded classroom—it was a world I never got to be a part of. Despite this, I had made peace with my circumstances.
From a young age, I was captivated by myths and epics, losing myself in tales of gods and heroes. These stories fueled my imagination, allowing me to escape the confines of my reality—if only for a while. I often spent hours at the library, pouring over old tomes that spoke of forgotten legends and cryptic prophecies. Some stories felt strangely familiar, as if they were more than mere fiction, as if they were whispering truths only I could hear.
"Weather forecast announcement: A super typhoon is set to hit the country. Please remain indoors until the storm passes."
A typhoon? Strange. March wasn't usually a rainy month. A sense of unease settled in my chest. The sky had been clear this morning—how did a storm form so suddenly? Something about it felt... wrong. As if nature itself was reacting to something beyond comprehension. Brushing aside my unease, I decided to visit the public library—a short fifteen-minute walk away—to borrow a book before the storm arrived.
As I browsed the shelves, a peculiar tome caught my eye. Bound in silver with golden linings, it radiated an air of mystery. The moment I reached for it, an odd sensation coursed through my fingers, as if the book pulsed with life. Its cover was warm to the touch, and an insignia resembling the very symbols I was wrapped in as an infant was etched into its spine. My heart pounded. Could this book hold answers about my origins? Without much thought, I checked it out and hurried back to the orphanage, the weight of the tome heavier than its appearance suggested.
"Weather forecast update: The super typhoon Yolan has now made landfall."
That was faster than expected. Rain pounded against the windows, the wind howling like a beast in agony. Lightning illuminated the night sky in violent flashes, casting eerie shadows across my room. Seated on my bed, I ran my fingers over the book's ornate cover. A shiver ran down my spine. Then, without warning, the book flipped open on its own, its pages glowing with an eerie, golden light. Chains of pure radiance burst forth, wrapping around me, pulling me toward the book. My limbs refused to move, my breath caught in my throat. A deep voice resonated in my mind, distant yet commanding.
"The harbinger shall awaken."
Before I could process what was happening, the world around me dissolved into nothingness.
I awoke in an unfamiliar land, vast and untamed. The air was thick with an energy I couldn't describe, tingling against my skin like an unseen force. Towering mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks shrouded in mist. Rolling plains stretched endlessly, dotted with strange, luminous flora that pulsed with an otherworldly glow. The scent of damp earth and unfamiliar blossoms filled my lungs.
A soft chime rang in my ears.
"Status window activated."
A translucent screen materialized before me, reminiscent of a game interface.
Name: Ezekiel Rhea
Age: 17
Sex: Male
Level: 0
Class: [None] UA: ??? [conditions not met]
Stamina: 8
Strength: 6
Agility: 7
IQ: 6
Mana: 0
Mind: 6
Skills: [None]
Low stats, as expected. But that wasn't the most pressing issue. Where was I? And what did "UA" mean? Unidentified Attribute? Unique Ability? My head spun with possibilities.
I had countless questions, but survival came first. This was unfamiliar terrain, and recklessness could get me killed. I ventured toward the edge of a dense forest, its towering trees forming a thick canopy overhead. The rustling of unseen creatures sent chills down my spine, but the forest seemed like my best option for shelter and food.
I cautiously made my way through the underbrush, noting the unusual wildlife. Small, fox-like creatures with three tails darted between the trees, their fur shimmering like silver under the faint glow of bioluminescent fungi. In the distance, a bird with four wings let out a haunting cry, its voice echoing unnaturally through the air. The land felt alive in a way I had never experienced before—as if it were aware of my presence.
Gathering sticks and dry branches, I set up a small clearing. Along the way, I discovered a cluster of berries. I hesitated, then collected them cautiously, knowing they might be my only food source. Though the forest was peaceful for now, every rustling leaf, every distant cry of an unknown creature kept me on edge.
Piecing together my situation, I reached a chilling conclusion—I had been transported to another world. The unfamiliar flora and fauna confirmed it, and the presence of the status window solidified the notion. Was this one of those reincarnation scenarios from novels? But I hadn't died. Had the book transported me? If so, why?
As I pondered, a low growl rumbled from the bushes to my right. My body tensed, instincts sharpening as I turned toward the sound.
Without thinking, I grabbed a nearby stone and hurled it in the direction of the noise.
A massive beast emerged—a bear, but unlike any I had ever seen. It was easily three times the size of a grizzly, its glowing blue eyes locking onto me with predatory intent. Crimson-tinged fur bristled across its body, interwoven with snake-like scales that gleamed in the dimming light. Its breath came out in visible puffs, the air growing colder with each exhale.
I didn't need to think twice.
I ran.
The ground trembled as the beast gave chase, its thundering footsteps closing the distance faster than I had anticipated. My lungs burned as I darted through the trees, weaving between trunks in a desperate bid to escape. The forest became a blur of shadows and light, the sound of snapping branches filling my ears.
If I didn't find a way out soon, I wouldn't live to see another sunrise.