Damian Cross jolted awake.
His heart slammed in his chest as if he had been dragged back from hell itself. Only a breath ago, he had felt his body ripped apart in the corpse tide—claws shredding flesh, bones snapping, his own power detonating in a desperate blaze. Agony so sharp it burned into his soul.
And then, nothing.
Now—
He stood beneath the cherry trees, as if in another lifetime. Cherry blossoms drifted around him, petals falling like pale snow over Solstice Park.
The city still stood whole. The air smelled of spring, not blood.
Yet this peace was an illusion—fragile, fleeting. Ever since the Great Cataclysm, when every woman on earth perished and only men were left to struggle on, the world had been reshaped by absence and survival. In such an age, a morning like this was a rare luxury.
Words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them.
"Elian… share this life with me. Walk with me through this ruined world—be my partner."
He froze.
What was happening?
Damian Cross. Twenty years old, now. An orphan who had clawed his way up from nothing. A C-rank Combatant—strong enough to fight, never strong enough to rise higher.
And across from him—a boy.
Elian Frost. Sixteen. Pale skin, long lashes, dark eyes like glass polished with moonlight. Too fragile, too noble, too untouchable.
At this moment, he was only an E-rank Psionic, newly awakened, helpless without support.
From the ruins of that world, some had awakened powers—Combatants, with bodies like weapons, and Psionics, with spirits that could heal, soothe, and empower. Together they bore the weight of survival; without them, ordinary men could only scrape by at the edges of existence.
Yet this was the boy Damian had chosen.The boy who, in his last life, had become his partner.For ten years.
The memories slammed into him.
Ten years later, Elian had bloomed into a dazzling B-rank Psionic—a gifted healer, radiant, envied by all.And Damian? Still C-rank. Ten years of stagnation, because every shard of crystal, every resource he bled for, had gone to Elian.
And Elian… had asked for a divorce.
He could still hear the calm, beautiful voice:
"Sign the agreement. I'm leaving—with Cassian D'Armand."
Cassian. The elegant heir of a great warrior clan, already B-rank, handsome and arrogant, everything Damian was not.
Damian had wanted to leave the base at once, before the corpse tide hit. But Elian insisted on the papers.
Those few minutes of delay sealed their fate.
The walls collapsed. The horde poured in—screams, teeth, claws, blood. Damian remembered cutting down monsters until his arms broke, dragging Elian with him, the divorce papers still crumpled in his pocket.
They had died together in the flood of corpses.
And now—
Damian stood again beneath the blossoms. The park was beautiful, untouched. This was ten years ago. The day he had planned for, the day he had confessed.
"Elian… be my partner."
The words were the same. The scene was the same.
But this time, Elian's eyes flickered.
Not the innocent surprise of a boy too young to understand. But heavy, complicated, carrying the weight of memories that didn't belong here.
A heartbeat of silence.
"…I refuse."
Damian lowered his gaze, hiding the storm in his chest.
So that was it.
Not only had he returned.
Elian Frost had been reborn too.