The last thing Rin remembered was the sound of the rain.It had faded into something hollow, like the echo of a drum beneath water. His vision blurred; the words Contract Payment in Progress pulsed on the edge of sight, growing dimmer each time. The world tilted, and then there was only quiet.
Somewhere else, in a world that still believed monsters were bedtime stories, rain was falling just the same. A rusted warehouse crouched on the edge of the city, its roof leaking silver threads of water onto a concrete floor. Three figures stood inside: two masked men and one bound, shaking captive.
The younger of the two, the one with tired eyes behind his mask, shoved the prisoner forward. His voice was rough from sleepless nights."Why did you do it? My wife. My daughter."
The older man lifted his chin. "You think killing me will bring them back?"
The words struck something raw. The younger man's fists trembled. For months he had chased this moment; now that it was here, vengeance felt thin, almost unreal.
"Only the devil can save you from me," he spat.
The words should have been an empty curse.Instead, the warehouse lights flickered.
The air grew still—too still. Even the rain seemed to stop mid-fall. A low hum rippled through the walls, followed by a chill that slid into every shadow.
A voice, smooth and close, answered the curse as if it had been waiting all along."Then the devil shall oblige."
Light drained from the world. The masked man's body went rigid, every breath caught between heartbeats. He felt weightless, as though something vast had brushed against him, curious and cold. His thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm.
The older prisoner's scream froze in his throat. Time fractured; the sound never finished.
And then… nothing.
Across worlds, a thread tightened.In the tiny apartment filled with bone spears, Rin's motionless body drew in one sharp breath. A pale shimmer crossed his skin, a tremor running through the air itself. The rain outside resumed as if the pause had never happened.
A spark—the faintest flicker of consciousness—returned to the empty vessel.
He awoke with a gasp.
For a long moment, he didn't know where he was. The smell of old dust and metal scraped at his senses. A thousand white spears leaned against cracked walls, gleaming faintly in the half-light.
He pressed a hand to his chest, expecting blood, finding none. His fingers were thinner than he remembered, his heartbeat slower.
"What…" His own voice startled him—higher, younger.
He staggered to the window. A stranger stared back from the glass. Hollow eyes, dark circles, hair hanging loose and colorless. The face of someone who had not seen sunlight in weeks.
"Who is this…?" The words came out small, bewildered.
A sound chimed inside his head, soft and mechanical.
[System Notice]Welcome back, Bone Smith Rin Hale.
The name meant nothing. Yet the moment he read it, fragments of memory rushed forward—images that weren't his: endless nights in a graveyard, the weight of bone dust on skin, laughter at a small table with an old man whose face blurred before he could grasp it.
He gripped the edge of the window frame, breathing fast."This isn't my life."
The interface shimmered again, offering him data he didn't understand: class, level, skills, none of it familiar. He closed the window and sank to the floor, surrounded by spears that whispered faintly when he brushed against them, as if they remembered the one who had forged them.
Outside, the city lights burned through the mist. Cars moved, people shouted, life went on—unaware that something impossible had just happened.
He sat there until the first hint of dawn slipped through the blinds. The rain had stopped, but the quiet it left behind felt heavier than before.
He looked at his hands again, turning them slowly. They trembled, not from weakness, but from certainty: this body, this name, this world were not his.
The System's glow dimmed, waiting for a command.
He whispered the only question that mattered."Where am I?"
No answer came—only a faint echo of a voice, soft as a sigh, drifting through his thoughts:Balance must be kept.
The whisper faded, leaving him alone with the silence, the spears, and the feeling that somewhere far below, a devil was smiling.