The rain fell in cold, uneven sheets, soaking the cracked pavement of the narrow alleyways in the outskirts of Shinjiru Arakami's city. Neon signs flickered above, reflections bouncing in puddles as he hurried home from school, backpack slung over one shoulder. His sixteen-year-old mind, usually cluttered with thoughts of homework, friends, and idle daydreams, was unusually quiet that evening. There was a strange tension in the air, a whisper of movement that his human instincts barely registered.
Shinjiru slowed his pace, ears straining. A metallic clatter echoed from the shadows, and for a fleeting second, the alley seemed alive. The air thickened, almost tasting of ozone and decay. He shook his head, dismissing it—just the wind, he told himself. But then, from the corner of his eye, a figure lunged. Not a human figure. Something unnatural, twisted, skeletal, moving with jerky precision. Its eyes glowed a faint red, and its body was wrapped in dark, corrupted tendrils of essence he could not comprehend.
A Krawler.
Shinjiru froze. His body betrayed him, heart hammering against his ribs, but before the creature could strike, a burst of light cleaved through the alley. Electric-blue aura flared, crackling like thunder in miniature as a figure landed between him and the Krawler.
The stranger was tall, cloaked, face hidden in shadow, yet his presence radiated a calm, commanding force. The Krawler screeched, recoiling from the aura, but it was no match. With a fluid motion, the stranger swung a curved weapon—a kusarigama, its chain whipping like lightning—and the creature's red eyes dimmed, then extinguished.
Shinjiru stared, mouth dry. "W… who… are you?" he managed, voice barely above a whisper.
The figure didn't answer. Instead, he extended a hand toward Shinjiru. "Come. Now." His voice was low, precise, yet carried a weight that seemed to press against the air itself. Hesitation flared in Shinjiru's chest, but instinct screamed that there was no choice. He took the hand. The world seemed to tilt, colors bending, sound warping, as the stranger pulled him into a swirl of light.
When he opened his eyes again, the city was gone. In its place stretched a luminous realm of floating structures, crystalline towers catching ambient light in colors that had no name. Bridges of stone and luminescent strands spanned vast chasms of soft, glowing mist. This was not a dream; he could feel the weight of his own body, hear the hum of life in the air.
"Where… am I?" he asked, voice trembling.
"You are in the Serium Realm," the stranger said finally, lowering his hood to reveal a pair of glowing electric-blue eyes. "I am Shinu. And you are… in danger, more than you realize."
Shinjiru's mind raced. A danger greater than almost dying in an alley? He blinked, trying to absorb the enormity of what he was seeing. "D-danger… what are you?"
Shinu didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gestured toward a crystalline tower ahead. "You will learn. For now, survive." The figure turned, disappearing into a corridor of floating light, leaving Shinjiru trembling, alone in a world that defied logic and physics.
Somewhere deep inside, a pulse began—a warmth in his chest that he had never felt. His vision blurred as violet light shimmered in his eyes, and an unfamiliar power tingled at his fingertips. He recoiled, instinctively pulling his hands back.
"Wh-what's… happening to me?"
Shinu's voice echoed in his mind, not through words, but through certainty. It's awakening.
The air shifted, heavy with an unseen presence. Far below, in a cityscape bathed in the glow of essence, movement stirred in shadows. Shinjiru's pulse accelerated. The path ahead was unknown. The rules of this world, the dangers, the truths of who he was… they waited, patient, unforgiving.
And above all, there was the faint, haunting sense that the attack in the alley had not been random. Someone, something, was hunting him.
Shinjiru swallowed hard, gripping his backpack. The boy who had walked home from school, worrying about grades and homework, was gone. Ahead of him lay the Serium Realm, a place of beauty, peril, and ancient power, and he had no choice but to step forward.