Darkness.No sound.No pain.No time.
Only a heavy silence… and the sensation of floating in a place where existence hadn't yet been decided.Ethan couldn't feel his body. He couldn't feel the floor. He couldn't feel anything.
"Am I… dead?" The question didn't leave his mouth. It echoed in his mind like a whisper no one else could hear.
But then…came the cold, and with it, flashes.Images.Fragments.
An empty bed in an orphanage.A boy alone, reading comics by flashlight—comic books, manga.A bully's fist colliding with his face.A little girl shoved into the path of a car by an uncaring crowd.An instinctive leap.The impact.The pain.And then… the end.
Ethan gasped. Now he remembered."That… was my past life."
An orphaned boy. No father. No mother. No name. A face no one would care to remember. He grew up in shelters, foster home after foster home—always "the problem," the "lost cause." Even the good homes sent him back after a while.
But in the crumbs of that existence, there was a refuge: stories—comic books, fiction. Batman. Superman. The Flash. Wonder Woman."Fiction. It was supposed to be fiction…"
He saw himself small, hidden under a blanket, lost in pages where heroes existed… where he felt less alone—where anime sang and comic books filled him with wonder, with tales of heroism and sacrifice."But if all that was only imagination… why am I here now?"
That was when the presence appeared. Not a body. Not a face.But something.Ancient. Vast.Dark as the void itself—yet welcoming, like shelter in the middle of a storm.
A voice sounded, echoing through a space that didn't exist."You remember who you once were.""You know who you are now.""And you are about to become what the universe needs."
Ethan tried to move, but his body still didn't exist.The presence drew closer like a mantle of shadows dancing around him.
"Many worlds exist, Ethan Vale."
"Worlds of heroes and beasts."
"Of gods and mortals."
"Worlds that the humans of your world call… fiction."
"But they are real."
"Those who write merely catch the echo of those worlds."
"You, however… became a bridge."
Ethan wanted to scream. To understand—while the rapid flashes of his other life still crashed through his mind.
"Who… are you?!"
The answer wasn't a word. It was a name that resounded inside him, vibrating in his blood and bones.
Ashborn.
"The first and the last. i who walks among thrones and shadows."
"My time has run out. But you… were touched by something that tore the veil between worlds."
"The accident… became a catalyst."
Ethan felt something burning across his skin. Invisible marks scorched him from within and froze him from without, as if his body were coming apart in a storm.
"Your body is not ready yet."
"But soon it will be—through a path, a method you already know."
While his mind burned, an interface appeared before his eyes. Translucent. Floating in the void.
Then a female voice chimed in his mind:
"Shadow Adaptation System: Initialized."
Before him, a floating screen took shape—woven of darkness and blue light.
[ SYSTEM INITIALIZED ]
Condition: Heir found
Status: Soul compatible
Interdimensional connection: Stable
Body:Under reconstruction
[ Passive skill acquired: Shadow Regeneration ]
[ Summoning Space: LOCKED — awaiting awakening ]
[ Shadow Power: Latent ]
⚠️ ALERT: Multiversal presence detected
⚠️ ALERT: Anomaly approaching
Initial objective:● Adapt● Observe● Survive
Ethan didn't understand half of it—at least not yet. But he felt something, somehow. As if something were entering his soul—not replacing him, but amplifying who he already was—while his memories rearranged themselves in his mind.
Ashborn spoke once more, now with an almost melancholic tone:
"Protect them, Ethan. Those you love… and those you have yet to meet.""
Because what is coming… will devour entire worlds."
The void began to tremble.The light returned.The pain, too.Ethan jolted awake.
Through the slits in the curtains, a gentle light filtered in—soft, almost respectful.Ethan opened his eyes slowly.Everything seemed blurry, as if the world was still trying to form around him. The ceiling was white, with small gold details—strangely familiar.
His body was still weak, almost numb. He felt the cool wires stuck to his chest and heard the steady beep of the heart monitor marking his pulse. A saline drip slid slowly through the catheter in his left arm, and a light nasal cannula fed him extra oxygen—humid, cold, but comforting. The whole room smelled of antiseptic and freshly changed flowers.
Beside him, an armchair with velvet cushions… and resting against it, head on the mattress, was his mother. Asleep. Holding his hand tightly—as if afraid he might slip away again.
Ethan's heart clenched.He turned his face slowly toward the window. Outside, the clouds hung like a memory of chaos. But in here, there was silence… and warmth. For the first time in a long time, he felt something different.Peace? No. It went deeper than that.
Regret.
The memories returned little by little, like water leaking through a cracked dam. The pain. The reactor. The flash. The void. Ashborn. The words. The "system."
But also… older memories. From the other world.The lonely childhood. The shelters. The comics read by flashlight. The sensation of being invisible.
And now… he was here. Alive. In a comfortable bed. With his mother at his side. A home. A surname. A family. Something he had never truly had in his other life.
Ethan closed his eyes for a second, drawing a deep breath.
"It's not like I'm someone else now… it's more like remembering a dream, I guess…"
He understood. Those memories hadn't replaced who he was. They had simply… completed him. As if a missing piece of himself had finally returned to where it belonged.And I wasted all of this being an idiot…
His jaw tightened. He remembered the fights, the contempt, the way he treated people—even his mother. And now, all he wanted… was to make amends. To be better. To be worthy of what he'd been given.
"Mom…" he whispered, barely a sound.
She didn't wake. She only let out a faint murmur and squeezed his hand tighter, still asleep. The sight was so pure it hurt.
That was when the door opened.A nurse stepped in with a clipboard, eyes on the machines."Let's check the overnight data…" she muttered—until she looked up. She froze.
Ethan—awake—stared back with clear, calm eyes. The clipboard slipped from her hands.
"M-My God! He… he's awake! The patient is awake!"
Her shout rolled like muffled thunder. Almost at once, Ethan's mother jolted up as if she'd escaped a nightmare—and saw.
"Ethan?" she whispered, unbelieving.
"Ethan… my son..?"
He tried to smile, but his muscles didn't quite obey yet.
"Hi, Mom…"
She collapsed into him. In tears, she threw her arms around him, forgetting all the wires and sensors. She sobbed with her face buried in his chest, shaking with emotion."You came back… you came back to me…"
More footsteps. Doctors and nurses rushed in, equal parts panic and euphoria. They checked displays, attached new sensors, traded perplexed looks.
"The burns… are gone?"
"Cellular structure is… regenerated? That's impossible!"
"His hair was partially scorched last night. Now… it's as if it was never touched."
Meanwhile, Ethan only watched. Still weak, but lucid. Feeling something thrum inside him, dormant—but alive.
Then the door slammed open.The impact made one of the wall sensors rattle.
Nathaniel Vale—Nate—stormed in. He was unrecognizable: crooked tie, wrinkled shirt, red eyes, deep shadows under them. The hair that was always neat now fell messily across his forehead. The grown-out beard made it clear mirrors hadn't mattered for days.
Nate said nothing. He stopped at the threshold, frozen—eyes fixed on his brother, as if he couldn't believe it was real. Ethan looked back.For a heartbeat, the silence was too heavy.
The doctors moved to block him:
"Mr. Vale, he just woke up, please keep your distance—"But Ethan was already sitting up.
"Ethan, wait! You're still connected to—"
Without answering, he yanked the IV free, ignoring the sting and the shrill alarms. He threw the covers aside and set his feet on the floor. The chill of the tile woke him fully.He staggered—but walked. Slow. Steady.
Toward his brother—and, for some reason, no one dared move.
Nate stood in shock. Instinct screamed that Ethan might blame him.Might punch him. Might yell the very things Nate had been shouting at himself in silence for weeks.
But Ethan… hugged him. A tight hug. Warm. Sincere.
"It's okay, Nate…" he whispered. "It wasn't your fault… It was mine. I'm sorry."
The reaction came late. Nate stayed rigid—then the tension broke. He sank to his knees, arms wrapped around his younger brother, and cried for the first time in many years. Elena covered her mouth, unable to hold back tears, watching in silence the scene she had waited far too long to see.
Hours later.
Ethan sat on the edge of the bed. The machines had been turned off. The doctors had finally left.His mother and brother slept on the nearby couch—exhausted, but together.
He lifted his gaze to the mirror on the wall. The reflection… was the same. But for the briefest instant, he could swear his shadow moved on its own. Behind him, the light flickered. And for a heartbeat… his eyes reflected a deep, oceanic blue. So different from their usual dull gray.
Then he heard it. A voice inside his head—low, but clear. Like the whisper of something ancient.
"Primary adaptation complete: initializing next stage."