I always had a dream. Becoming the world's greatest adventurer, with my friends by my side. Us destroying the world's greatest dungeon. Like a fairytale, but we were the heroes.
But that was a long time ago.
In the year 1945, something happened that changed everything. We called it the Scarred Reality, for it scarred more than just the world—it scarred everyone, down to their very souls.
Scars tore open the air like wounds in the fabric of existence, ragged and pulsating, and from them spilled beasts of shapes and sizes humanity had no words for. Monstrosities with twisted limbs, eyes that glowed with unholy hunger, and hides that shimmered like nightmares given form. They poured out endlessly, devouring cities, turning streets into slaughterhouses.
The military tried, don't get me wrong. They threw everything they had—tanks rumbling through the chaos, bombers screaming overhead, soldiers firing volley after volley into the abyss. But what could bullets do against scales like theirs? Armor forged in some otherworldly hell, impervious to lead and fire, laughing at our futile resistance.
We did have a chance, though. Phase Jurisprudence. We called it Phase Shift—our only way to fight back, a desperate grasp at power drawn from the scars themselves. It allowed the gifted to manipulate reality, to phase through dimensions, to wield energies that could match the beasts' ferocity. It was our only way to keep humanity alive, a flickering torch in an encroaching darkness.
And we fought. For a while, we won battles, pushing back the tides, sealing scars with blood and willpower. But the scars never stopped coming, ripping open anew like festering sores on the skin of the world. And so, we began nurturing talents—children who might one day end this for good, prodigies trained from birth to harness Phase Shift and close the wounds forever.
And who might be able to answer question 3 on page 46?
The teacher's voice cut through the droning lecture like a dull blade, pulling the class's attention to the back row. He turned, his eyes narrowing on a student slumped over his desk, head buried in folded arms. His grip tightened around the wooden ruler in his hand, knuckles whitening as frustration boiled beneath his calm facade.
Trying to keep his composure, he said, "Ryuji, wake up."
A sigh escaped him, heavy with exasperation. Then, louder, he screamed, "Ryuji! Wake up—it's the middle of class!"
Ryuji jolted upright, his chair scraping against the floor with a harsh screech. Before his eyes even fluttered open, words tumbled out of his mouth in a frantic blur. "The answer is you can't multiply by zero!"
He blinked, the fog of sleep lifting, and focused on the figure looming before him. The teacher stood there, arms crossed, eyebrow arched in disbelief.
"Ryuji," the teacher said, his tone laced with irritation, "why are you doing calculations in history class?"
Ryuji scratched the back of his neck, his face flushing under the stares of his classmates. "Well, you see, teacher, to understand, uhm, the full extent of, uh, history... you would have to..."
The teacher screamed, his patience shattering like glass. "Shut up! And focus on the class!" With a furious swing, he hurled the ruler toward Ryuji, the wooden stick whistling through the air.
Ryuji ducked just in time, the ruler clattering against the wall behind him. The class erupted in laughter, sharp and mocking, echoing off the walls like a chorus of hyenas.
Ryuji sank back into his desk, cheeks burning, as the class rolled on in a monotonous haze.
After class, Ryuji remained seated at his desk, staring blankly at the scattered notes in front of him, the weight of the day pressing down like an invisible anvil.
The teacher approached, his footsteps soft but deliberate. "Ryuji, what happened? You were the class topper. Now it feels like you're not even present in class."
Ryuji looked down, avoiding the teacher's gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm always tired."
The teacher reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small business card, extending it with a sympathetic nod. "Ryuji, take this. This is my friend's card—he's a psychologist. He's my friend, so he'll only take 200,000 yen a month. You can ask your parents to pay for your therapy. Remember, your health is very important."
Ryuji's mind reeled. *200,000 yen! I don't even make that much in two months.*
"I'll keep that in mind," Ryuji said, slipping away from the desk with a forced smile. *That oddly felt like an advertisement.*
He walked through the halls, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry insects, his thoughts churning. *My parents can pay? What a joke.*
He stumbled across Classroom 8, his feet carrying him there almost by habit.
He peeked in, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw someone familiar.
Hana—my childhood friend.
Maybe he stared too long, lost in memories of simpler times. For she saw him, her eyes locking onto his through the doorway.
She was talking to her friends, animated and carefree, but upon spotting him, her expression twisted into a smirk. "At least my hobby isn't stalking girls," she said loudly, her words slicing through the air like a knife.
The laughter from her group hit Ryuji like a punch to the gut. He started walking, straight home, his footsteps heavy with humiliation.
Ryuji stood in front of his apartment door, the peeling paint and faint smell of mildew a stark reminder of his isolation.
"I'm home," he said, pushing the door open, even though he knew he lived alone. The words echoed hollowly in the empty space.
Taking off his shoes, he thought back, the memories flooding in unbidden.
After my dad remarried, I was happy—thinking I'd have a sister I could spoil. I was only seven at the time. Haruka... I did spoil her, maybe too much. But slowly, as we grew, she started resenting me. Sigh, if only I knew what I did wrong.
He sprawled onto the bed, the thin mattress creaking under his weight. *I thought she was just at that age where they grow distant. But she convinced my dad I was starting to grow conscious of her in... that way. And here I am, kicked out of my own home.*
*You'd have to know shuffling jobs isn't that easy.* He stood up, rubbing his eyes.
*I'd better get ready for my shift.*
He stood up and glanced around, his heart sinking as he realized his school bag wasn't there. He rubbed his temples, a headache blooming. *I must've left it at school again.*
He walked back to school, already tired, the evening sun dipping low and casting long shadows that seemed to mock his exhaustion.
He entered the school gates, the building now quiet and eerie in the after-hours hush, slowly making his way to his classroom.
He crossed by another classroom, the door slightly ajar. Inside were four people.
Recognition flashed across his eyes, sharp and bittersweet.
They were his childhood friends: Haruka, Hana, Chihiro, and Yarishki.
Yarishki was like his brother back in the day. But now they rarely talked, the bond frayed by time and unspoken grievances.
Yarishki noticed him through the window and lit up. "Ryuji! Hey! Long time no see, bro. Come join us."
Ryuji stopped, a flicker of hope stirring. *I should talk to them.*
But before he could step inside, Haruka's voice cut in flatly, cold as ice.
"Ryuji is busy right now—he has work, so he should leave."
Ryuji stepped closer anyway. "But I—"
Haruka said louder, her tone sharpening. "Just leave already."
Yarishki, caught off guard, frowned. "Why are you being so hostile, Haruka?"
Haruka forced a smile, saccharine and insincere. "I'm looking out for him. You see, his boss will be mad if he misses work so often."
Ryuji thought, *Liar—I never missed work.*
Yarishki nodded slowly, buying the lie. "I see. Ryuji, we'll talk later then."
Ryuji clenched his fist, nails digging into his palm. "Yeah, right. Bye."
He ran off, the hallway blurring as anger and hurt churned inside him. *I did everything for them, yet they're so hostile. Why?*
He entered his classroom, the empty desks like silent witnesses, and saw his bag on his desk.
He picked it up, slinging it over his shoulder. But behind him, the door closed with a soft click.
He turned to see Haruka standing there, her eyes hard.
"What happened, Haruka?" he asked, his voice cracking with desperation. "We were such a good family even a few months ago."
She crossed her arms. "You know who transferred to our class."
"Yeah, Yarishki. So?"
"You are trying to sabotage our relationship. Why can't you just be happy and leave us alone?"
Shocked, he stammered, "When did I even do anything to you? I was happy to see my friend back."
Haruka smirked disgustingly, her lips curling in contempt. "I know what will stop you."
He raised his voice. "I didn't even do anythi—"
But she screamed, "Help me!" and bolted from the classroom, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
He chased after her, confusion twisting his gut. "What happened? Why are you screaming?"
She burst into another classroom and screamed, "Ryuji tried to grope me!"
He ran in after her and froze. She was on the floor, her uniform unbuttoned, tears streaking her face in a performance that would fool anyone.
Yarishki lunged at him, eyes blazing with rage. "How dare you!"
Before Ryuji could register what was happening, Yarishki's fist connected with his jaw, sending him crashing to the ground. Pain exploded in his head, stars dancing in his vision.
Yarishki pounced, raining blows down on him, each punch landing with brutal force.
Ryuji sputtered through bloodied lips, "Believe me, I didn't do anything!"
Yarishki grabbed him by the neck, hauling him up, his grip like a vice. "How dare you, bastard!"
He threw Ryuji back to the ground, then dragged him by his hair, strands ripping out in agonizing tugs.
Ryuji begged, tears mixing with blood, "I'm telling you, I didn't do anything! I love my sister—I would never do such a thing!"
Yarishki scoffed, his face twisted in disgust. "Means you loved her a little too much, you piece of shit."
Yarishki hurled him outside the school gates, tossing his bag after him like trash. "Get the hell out of here, you bastard!"
The sunset painted the city in gold, a mocking beauty against the ugliness unfolding. Ryuji ran off, the world blurring through his tears.
Tears painted his face, hot and unrelenting. *What the hell did I ever do to you people?*
He collapsed on the riverbank, the water reflecting the dying light in his eyes like shattered glass. Hours passed, the sun sinking, leaving him in twilight's chill.
A little calmer now, he thought, *I missed work today.* He picked up his bag, the weight familiar yet burdensome.
And started walking, but from an alleyway, he heard faint, muffled crying—desperate, choked sobs that pierced the evening quiet. He edged closer and saw: an older man pinning a girl beneath him, a knife tearing at her clothes, drawing thin lines of blood.
And behind the man, a younger boy holding a gun over two other girls, his face twisted in cruel glee.
He looked closer, heart pounding, and hid behind a dumpster. He recognized them—his childhood friends, trapped in this nightmare.
He started shaking, adrenaline surging. *I have to save them.*
He peeked again, the knife now grazing Haruka's skin as she writhed under the man, her cries muffled by his hand.
Ryuji spotted a pile of bricks nearby. And remembered a TV show, the narrator's voice echoing in his mind: "So we learn today, bricks are very easily controlled by mana, so next time try to use magic when you see a brick."
Ryuji snapped out of it, grabbing a brick, whispering desperately, "Mana, flow through me and fly against my foes—levitation." Nothing happened, the brick inert in his trembling hand.
He peeked again and saw the man pointing the knife at her skirt, her tears thickening the air with despair, sobs wracking her body.
Ryuji packed the bricks into his bag, the clatter echoing his resolve. He stood up, heart hammering.
But he stopped, doubt crashing in. *What if they have magic? They could kill me.*
*Should I save them?*
He started walking away, each step heavy with betrayal's echo.
From the alley, Haruka struggled fiercely, the man's weight crushing her, his breath hot and foul. He was salivating, whispering in her ear, "Yeah, keep screaming. Remember, no one will hear you."
In desperation, she screamed, "Yarishki!"
From above, Ryuji leaped from a fire escape, swinging his bag like a wrecking ball.
**BOOM!**
The bricks exploded on impact, shards embedding into the man's skull with sickening crunches. Blood splattered everywhere, warm and sticky, painting the walls in crimson horror.
Seeing the blood, the boy screamed, his voice cracking with shock. "You killed him!"
Ryuji slipped on the pooling blood, the metallic stench rotting through his nose, turning his stomach.
He screamed, a raw, primal sound.
The boy whirled, turning his gun. "I'll kill you, bastard!"
Ryuji hurled his bag, the makeshift weapon slamming into the boy's head with a thud. He crumpled to the ground.
Ryuji ran to the girls, grabbing their hands in a panic, his voice frantic. "Let's run!"
They started running, feet pounding the pavement.
**BANG!**
A bullet tore through his shoulder, fire erupting in his flesh. He lost balance, tumbling forward.
His mind went blank, fogging under the searing pain, the world narrowing to agony.
He fell to the ground, asphalt biting into his skin. Haruka turned, her eyes wide. He reached out, bloodied hand trembling. "Wait... help me."
Her eyes filled with fear, raw and unfiltered. Hana grabbed her hand, and they ran away, leaving him behind.
He only stared, betrayal carving deeper than the bullet, unable to move.
The boy staggered up, turning Ryuji over roughly, pressing the gun to his forehead, the cold metal a promise of oblivion.
Tears fell from Ryuji's eyes, mixing with blood and rain. *I was abandoned. Why did I ever save them?*
Rain started to fall, heavy drops pattering down as the sky darkened into night, washing away the evidence but not the pain.
The boy pulled the trigger, but his hand slipped in the slick blood. The bullet grazed Ryuji's left arm instead, another lance of fire.
Ryuji pounced on the boy, his mind fogged, instincts screaming one word: *Die, die, die.* Over and over, a mantra of rage.
He punched him, fists slamming into flesh again and again, bones cracking under the assault, until he noticed the gun glinting nearby. He snatched it up. And...
**BANG!**
Blood pooled under them, warm and spreading. Ryuji looked at the limp body, the life ebbed away.
A small smirk played at his lips, twisted and broken. *I killed him. A human... I killed a human.*
Rain enveloped them, relentless, as the sky fully turned to night, stars hidden behind clouds of despair.
On the other side.
Haruka sat on a hospital bed, the sterile white sheets a stark contrast to the bruises blooming on her skin.
Hana and Chihiro sat next to her, their faces pale, hands clasped in silent support.
Yarishki burst into the hospital room, panting, sweat beading on his forehead. "Are you girls okay?"
Chihiro looked up, accusation in her eyes. "Where were you?"
Yarishki blinked, confused. "Why? What happened?"
She snapped, "We almost got raped, and you weren't even there to save us."
Yarishki's face drained of color. "Did you... get raped?"
Chihiro shook her head. "No, but why didn't you save us?"
Yarishki calmed a bit, exhaling shakily. "I know something that will help you."
Haruka screamed, her voice breaking. "Please! Please don't go. Stay here with us for a bit."
Yarishki smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry—I'll be right back."
Haruka looked down, tears flowing from her eyes like rivers of regret. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ryuji."
On the other side.
Ryuji staggered under the rain, blood pooling from his wounds, soaking his clothes, each step a labored agony.
He walked over some police barricade tape, fluttering in the wind like forgotten warnings, ignoring the crime scene's boundaries.
He thought, *If I'll die... let me die chasing my dream.*
He stood before a scar, its edges frozen in jagged ice, small blue flames erupting sporadically like dying stars. In the middle. Was a cosmo projecting a singular galaxy. He could hear screams emanating from it, tortured wails that clawed at his mind, almost like it was hell's entrance beckoning.
The Frozen Wasteland—SSS-Rank dungeon.
He entered, stepping through the veil, the world shifting around him.
Snow met his arrival, soft and biting, blanketing the ground in pristine white.
It was like he had entered a whole new world—a massive cave with no visible ceiling, snow falling endlessly from an invisible sky.
He walked slowly, snow crunching under his feet, each step leaving bloody footprints that froze instantly.
He started humming a tune, something his mother used to sing to him, a melody he thought he had forgotten, buried under years of hardship.
But the lyrics came to him so vividly with every step he took.
*(Snow, sing to me)* He sang, but his voice was hoarse, ragged from pain and screams.
*(A song, you made for me)* He took a step, the cold biting into his wounds like fangs.
*(A fairytale, like lullaby)* A massive roar shattered his trance, echoing through the cavern like thunder.
A massive bear stood before him, its fur white and brown striped, majestic and terrifying. On its head, a horn like a rhino's, sharp and gleaming.
Ryuji stopped, lifting his head he scrutinised it. "Look at you... aren't you quite pretty—The striped bear, was it?"
He lifted the gun, hand steady despite the pain. "Oh well."
**BANG!**
The bullet hit the bears fur, tho the bullet bounced off the beast.
Ryuji smirked, bitter and defiant. "Not enough?"
**Bang! Bang! BANG! CLICK.**
He was out of bullets. Yet the beast was not even scratched, its eyes glowing with predatory intent.
Ryuji stepped back. "I see... a dungeon isn't that simple."
He spread his arms wide, inviting the end.
The bear charged, its speed faster than a bullet train, a blur of fury and muscle.
It slammed into him, hurling him toward the wall with bone-shattering force. Blood splattered on the snow, blooming like red flowers.
It charged again, its horn piercing him clean through, agony ripping through his body like lightning.
He spat blood, choking on the metallic taste. "If you were gonna kill me, at least make it painless, dammit."
Blood turned the snow red, pooling and trailing in rivulets that formed a sigil on the wall behind him, ancient and glowing faintly.
From behind Ryuji, massive skeletal hands erupted forth, bony fingers like claws of death, tearing the bear apart in a frenzy of rending flesh and snapping bones.
He fell to the ground, the snow wrapping around him like a coffin, cold and unyielding.
*(The Maw has Chosen its vessel)*