Shinjiru awoke with a start, the violet light in his eyes fading into a soft, lingering glow. His body ached as if he had run for miles without rest, muscles twitching involuntarily. The world around him was serene now, unlike the chaos of the alley—towers of white stone rose into the clouds, interlaced with luminescent veins of energy that pulsed rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat. Bridges of crystal shimmered overhead, arcs connecting floating islands as though they were stitched together by some divine hand.
He sat up, gripping the cold surface beneath him. The air smelled faintly of ozone and earth, both alien and grounding. Panic bubbled in his chest. "This… this isn't real. I—I'm dreaming," he whispered, voice trembling. But the soft hum that resonated through the air around him answered with a sharpness no dream could produce.
A shadow moved overhead. Shinjiru instinctively ducked, heart hammering. The figure of Shinu descended with the grace of a predator, cloak billowing. His eyes, electric blue and piercing, scanned Shinjiru's form before settling on him.
"You're awake," Shinu said, voice calm but edged with something ancient. "Good. The process has begun."
Shinjiru swallowed, shaking. "Process… what do you mean? What… what am I doing here?"
Shinu approached, lowering his hood slightly. "You are in the Serium Realm. A world that exists alongside yours, hidden from ordinary human eyes. Only those with exceptional essence—or those like me—can perceive it. Humans cannot see Himen or Krawlers unless we allow it. And you… you are more than human."
Shinjiru recoiled. "More than… human? What do you mean? I'm sixteen, I go to school, I play video games. I'm not—"
"You are a Himen hybrid," Shinu interrupted, eyes narrowing. "The first in recorded history. Your father… Haruto Arakami… he defied the rules. He created you, knowing the consequences. He was not careful enough. That mistake cost him his life."
Shinjiru staggered back. "My… father? Dead? What… what are you saying?"
Shinu's cloak shifted, the edges of his form glowing faintly. "He died facing a Stage 3 Krawler—the same one that will come for you eventually. That is why I saved you tonight. You do not yet understand your essence, your power, or the danger that follows you. But you will."
Shinjiru's mind raced. Memories of his quiet childhood, his mother's gentle voice, the warmth of family dinners—all of it collided with this revelation. A stage 3 Krawler? Hybrid Himen? His father… dead?
"Why me?" he asked finally, voice breaking. "Why am I—why am I special?"
Shinu did not answer immediately. Instead, he extended a hand toward Shinjiru again. "You must train. You must awaken. The Academy will teach you control. You must learn the Twelve Rules of Himen. You must survive the trials of essence. If you fail… the consequences will not be yours alone."
The weight of his words sank into Shinjiru like stones in water. He wanted to run, to deny it all, but some deep, unfamiliar instinct—an echo of his father's legacy, perhaps—held him in place. Slowly, trembling, he took Shinu's hand.
In an instant, the world shifted. Colors blurred into streaks of violet and blue, and a strange sensation ran through Shinjiru's body, like electricity threading through bone and muscle. His consciousness wavered, then anchored as he found himself standing before a massive crystalline structure: the Himen Academy.
The gates were wide, carved from solid light and adorned with floating symbols that pulsed with power. Students—tall, graceful, and luminous—moved across the courtyards, their auras faintly glowing in colors Shinjiru couldn't yet name. Chains, weapons, and strange artifacts of light and essence floated around them, controlled effortlessly as though weightless.
A voice echoed behind him. "Do not be afraid, Shinjiru Arakami. You are no longer just a boy in a human world. Here, your choices, your discipline, and your essence will define who you are."
Shinjiru turned. Shinu was gone. Instead, the gates themselves seemed to beckon him forward. Each step he took resonated with the hum of the realm, and for the first time, he felt it: a pulse in his chest, a vibration of power unlike anything he had known.
"Awaken, Shinjiru," he whispered to himself, clenching his fists. "I will survive. I will be strong. And… I will understand what my father tried to protect."
As he crossed the threshold of the Academy, the world shifted again. Figures in flowing uniforms approached, their eyes glowing faintly in the colors of their auras: steel gray, lavender, pale aquamarine, ivory-blue. One figure stepped forward, a stern man with steel-gray aura, his gaze piercing.
"Masaru Jinkuro," Shinjiru murmured, reading the name etched into the air as if the Academy itself whispered it.
"Welcome to your new life," the man said. His voice carried authority, but also a subtle edge of care. "You are not here to play, Shinjiru Arakami. You are here to survive, to grow, and one day… perhaps to surpass us all."
And as Shinjiru looked around, heart pounding, he realized the truth: he was alone in a world of hidden dangers, ancient power, and unforgiving rules—and his life, the life he had once taken for granted, was gone forever.