In the biting cold wind, a ragged boy staggered unsteadily across the soft snow.
His bare feet pressed into the thick drifts, leaving behind a trail of shallow and deep footprints.
Behind him stretched nothing but endless snow and darkness.
"Help—!" the boy cried out, his voice raw and desperate.
But no one came.
The sky remained so dark that one could not see their own hand. Only the lightning split the silence of the night.
The boy stumbled forward, his body soaked through as if he had just been pulled from icy water.
He wrapped his arms tightly around his knees, curling himself into a shivering ball. "Dad… Mom…"
Crack! Another flash of lightning.
Thunder rolled, as though it intended to tear the pitch-black night apart.
The boy looked up and felt the world before his eyes begin to warp and blur.
"What's going on?" he muttered, trying to steady himself and take a few more steps forward—
but his foot slipped, and he fell hard into the snow. Pain surged through his body, yet he gritted his teeth and pushed himself back up to keep running.
Plop. Something cold and sticky landed on his cheek.
"Blood?" The boy froze. He wiped away the thick liquid and looked around in confusion—
"Ah!"
He screamed, stumbling backward in horror.
To his right lay a corpse—completely bare, a sharp weapon having pierced its chest.
Bright red blood stained the snow beneath it.
The boy's mind went blank with terror. He staggered toward the faint glow of a streetlamp, hoping to find safety there.
But he was too exhausted. His legs gave way the moment he stopped, and he fell heavily to the ground.
Panting, he used the last of his strength to dial the emergency number.
No one answered.
He clutched the phone tightly, images of his parents flashing through his mind. "I'm so hungry… I want meat… Dad… Mom…"
It had been so, so long since he'd had a full meal.
He wanted to live. He wanted to leave this godforsaken, frozen place.
He had to find food—no matter what.
Forcing himself to stay calm, the boy searched the surroundings carefully.
Finally, his gaze stopped beneath the streetlamp—on a pile of withered leaves.
Among them, half a bloody face was buried.
Trembling, he brushed the leaves aside, and a foul stench hit him in the nose.
He gagged, covered his mouth, and bent down to pick up the severed head.
Then, tearing off what little flesh he could find, he forced himself to chew and swallow.
He hadn't eaten warm food in so long; if he didn't fill his stomach soon, he would die.
When he was done, the boy dragged his heavy, limping body forward again.
Every step was agony, yet he refused to give up.
Even knowing how hopeless it was—he couldn't die here.
Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine.
He could feel it—something dangerous lurking behind him.
He turned instinctively—
A young man, covered in blood, was walking slowly out from behind the streetlamp.
He stood unnaturally still, like a statue—but the boy noticed his eyes.
Empty. Lifeless. Emotionless.
Like a body without a soul. Terrifying.
The boy took a wary step back and shouted hoarsely, "Don't come any closer—!"
The young man suddenly lunged forward!
"What are you doing!" the boy yelled, struggling with all his might—but the man's grip was unbreakable.
The young man's hands clamped around his throat and twisted.
With a sharp crack, the boy's eyes went wide. He died with them still open.
In his final moments, the only thing he could do was glare at the man with all the hatred left in his soul.
"If there's a next life… I'll never forgive you…"
The words squeezed out between his teeth were nothing more than a dying stray dog's last whimper in the man's ears.
And then, all the boy saw was blackness.
"...Am I dying?"
He didn't know how long his consciousness drifted in the darkness.
Then, before him, lights of every color began to bloom.
"What… is this…"
He forced his eyes open.
Beyond the infinite void, about a hundred meters ahead, stood a gigantic tree—
its form twisted and strange, yet radiating a holy, divine aura from root to crown.
The contradiction was indescribable, and the boy had no words for it.
He only knew that perhaps—he was looking at a god.
After all, only a god could give him this feeling, though he had never once seen the "god" his parents spoke of.
Cautiously, he got to his feet and took slow, wary steps toward the tree.
Then, hesitantly, he reached out his hand.
As if responding to him, the "branches" of the tree trembled gently.
"...You are the Kabbalah Tree of Life?"
The voice echoed in his mind. The boy flinched in shock.
He wasn't educated; he had never heard such a name before.
Seeing his confusion, the Tree of Life trembled again and transmitted more information to him.
The boy's untrained mind absorbed it all like a sponge, processing and understanding it quickly.
"So… you mean… you want to make a contract with me—to change my gender, right?
And then reincarnate me into another world with your power?"
He repeated the "contract" in disbelief, studying the tree carefully.
He noticed ten dim points of light scattered across it, along with three faint, nearly invisible rings encircling it—each oddly distinct from the rest.
The Kabbalah Tree of Life stood silently, waiting for his answer.
The boy thought through everything it had told him, then nodded firmly.
He had no other choice.
If one met a god—why run away?
The moment the boy gave his consent, the Tree of Life erupted in brilliant light.
Three great pillars rose beside it and circled around him in a strange yet somehow natural pattern.
Countless glowing motes attached themselves to his body like tiny seeds, beginning to reshape him.
He felt the strange energy invading his body and fusing with his soul—
trying to synchronize him with the three pillars completely.
Suddenly, pain stabbed through his chest, and one of the three pillars began to change.
Two of them quickly stabilized after a brief tremor.
But the last one pulsed with his heartbeat, its radiant light swallowed by black mist.
In seconds, it turned into a black-red hue, radiating power utterly unlike the rest.
Even the Tree of Life seemed caught off guard—its branches shuddered, trying desperately to restore the pillar's original glow.
But it was too late.
The pillar's power had completely mutated in just a few seconds—
becoming exactly what the Tree of Life feared most.
As the pillar changed, the boy's heartbeat gradually steadied.
When he lifted his head, his eyes no longer held confusion or fear—
only boundless hatred and fury.
There is a saying: To glorify suffering is cruel.
Do not romanticize pain.
Suffering has no inherent value, no reward.
It should never be treated as a virtue.
It is not a test of will, nor the proof of future success.
Suffering is simply suffering—something to be endured, not sanctified or justified.
Most people in this world break under pain; only a rare few rise above it.
And they alone recite, "Heaven burdens the worthy with great trials."
The boy's rage and hatred had tainted the mightiest of the three pillars, corrupting it.
Extreme negativity is, in its own way, pure—
and that purity only amplified the pillar's power.
The Tree of Life could do nothing.
It no longer had the strength to suppress the corruption.
In the end, it gave up resisting.
"From this day forth," it said, "your name shall be Tianqi Sanluo."
But the boy, lost in his hatred, paid it no mind.
His old name no longer mattered.
Vmm—
The transformation completed.
The three sacred pillars spun and resonated as one,
and the boy's figure dissolved into a streak of light, vanishing with them into the darkness.
The Kabbalah Tree of Life remained where it stood.