Chapter 1: The White
The first thing Lucien remembered was silence.
Not the silence of a quiet room, nor the peaceful hush before dawn—this silence was absolute, oppressive, as if sound itself had never existed. He opened his eyes to a world of endless whiteness, a void with no horizon, no ceiling, no ground… yet somehow he stood upon it.
Time didn't move here. His heart beat, but no seconds followed it. His breaths came, but the air was neither warm nor cold. It was eternity disguised as a prison.
And then, the first monster appeared.
It erupted from the white mist—a grotesque thing of claws and fangs, its body writhing as if made from shattered reflections of beasts that should never exist. Its eyes burned with hunger. Lucien's fragile frame trembled as he picked up the only weapon at his side: a rusted blade half-buried in the void floor.
He swung clumsily. The monster shrieked and split in two.
Both new creatures lunged at him.
Lucien's chest heaved. So this is how it is… every kill breeds more enemies.
It was despair itself, given form.
But in that despair, something within him refused to break. His pale features twisted, not in fear, but in defiance.
"If this place exists to bury me," he whispered, "then I'll carve myself into it. I'll become the one thing this void can't erase."
And so began his unending war. Each monster stronger than the last. Each battle forcing his body, soul, and mind to twist and sharpen. His fragile noble appearance was slowly consumed by a new presence—something heavy, sovereign, inevitable.
Here, in the realm where no man should have survived, Lucien Dreamveil became The Sole Exception.