Rain slicked streets always smelled the same—wet asphalt, exhaust, and faint oil that clung to the air. Riku Hayashi hated that smell. It reminded him of every late shift that dragged on too long, every empty walk home to his cramped apartment, every night spent wondering if life was supposed to feel this… pointless.
He tugged his hoodie tighter and kept his head down, music buzzing faintly in his earphones. Just another day. Just another night. The city didn't notice him, and he'd stopped expecting it to.
Then headlights cut across the corner of his vision.
A truck. Moving too fast.
There was someone in the road.
A kid—couldn't have been more than seven—frozen like a rabbit in a snare.
Riku didn't think. He didn't weigh pros and cons, didn't tell himself he wasn't the type to get involved. His body just moved.
His sneakers slapped water as he lunged forward, shoving the kid with everything he had.
For a split second, he caught the child's wide, terrified eyes. Then relief—because they were out of the way. Because maybe, just maybe, he did something right.
Impact.
The world flipped. Metal screamed. Glass shattered like a rain of knives. Pain flooded him, sharp and cold and then… distant. His breath came short, ragged.
So this is it, he thought dimly. Guess I finally did one thing that mattered.
Silence.
When Riku opened his eyes—or whatever he had now—there was no rain, no street, no city. Just… nothing. An endless dark, calm and weightless.
"…Hello?" His voice came out smaller than he expected.
Something answered. A voice, low and clear, echoing without sound.
"You threw away your life for a stranger's. Unexpected, given how little you valued it."
Riku swallowed, throat dry though he had no body. "So I… died, huh?"
"Yes." No sorrow, no cruelty. Just truth. "By all rights, this should be the end."
He let out a shaky laugh. "Figures. My life was basically a tutorial level no one cared about." He paused. "Wait—if this is the end… why am I still here?"
A ripple stirred through the void, like water disturbed by an unseen hand.
"Because I am offering you a choice. Another life."
His heart—or the memory of one—stumbled. "You mean… reincarnation?"
The faintest hint of amusement colored the voice. "Quick to guess. Yes. A new world. A new chance. But not without consequence."
The void shifted. Flashes tore through the dark:
- A battlefield buried in smoke and corpses.
- A city burning under a blood-red sky.
- Something huge in chains, eyes glowing like furnaces.
Riku flinched. "What the hell is that?"
"Possibility," the voice murmured. "A glimpse of what stirs within you should you accept. Power enough to reshape destiny… and ruin it. Do you still desire this?"
He hesitated. His whole life had been one long hesitation. Too scared to try, too numb to care. But then he remembered the kid's face—the raw fear, the helplessness.
When it really mattered, he didn't freeze.
"…Yeah," he whispered, steadier now. "If I get another shot… I don't want to waste it this time. I don't care if it's dangerous."
The void seemed to breathe.
"Then so be it. You shall be reborn in a world where gods have gone silent, where kingdoms rot in war. You will carry strength vast enough to move nations. But know this—"
The voice deepened, heavy enough to press against his very soul.
"—Every gift demands a price. And yours is already written."
Light erupted, blinding. His body—or the new thing becoming his body—was torn apart and remade in fire and ice. Chains coiled, wings spread, and his scream dissolved into brilliance.
Under a foreign sky, a newborn wailed.
His cry carried into the night, and something old stirred far beneath the earth.
Unheard, the voice whispered one final time:
"Welcome, Aeltharion. May your second life blaze brighter than your first… before the ashes claim you."