Death was not fire,it was neither light nor darkness. Death was an absence,a terminal end that could no longer be corrected. For Wrath, it was the final failure of assumptions and all strategies he had made in his life time.
He had lived life like a piece in a chessboard. Every step, every heartbeat, every breath has to be delibrate and calculated against an inevitable outcome. The truck barreling toward him,was just another piece in the game and he was eliminated.He had become a variable that could no longer align with the optimal plans of his superiors. There was no time to scream,no time to plead,only cold acceptance.
Then the world fractured.
Into a corridor of shifting grey, stretching infinitely in every direction. Time and space, moments melting into streaks of silver. Stars froze in mid-flight.
The edges of existence
And through the silence of unraveling reality, a feminine voice spoke directly into the core of his consciousness.
" Fading soul you are qualified through your death.Now Arise in a new world. Compete, conquer, or perish. The throne awaits the worthy."
It was not information for the right to live. It was law burned into the marrow of his soul. The world king,The Four Gods, Infinite worlds, infinite candidates, infinite races for supremacy and he was chosen. He was a reincarnate.
Knowledge arrived as instinct. Patterns and outcomes, knowledge of an entire cosmos compressed into his being. He knew the rules of the game before he had even opened his eyes.
Then sensation returned as a violent pressure crushing him from all directions.Sound forcing it's way into his skill;a heartbeat not his own and then a loud scream.His lungs filled with ice-sharp air. He tried to move, and his body responded with a strength he did not yet understand. Pain was immediate, Life, in its purest form, burned in him.
He had been reborn.
He drew a shuddering his first breath and he was alive alongside a preternatural clarity of a mind already years beyond any ordinary child.
The world had given him a second chance. And this time, everything bent to his understanding. This time he would not fail. He could not,not again
Even then, even before fully opening his eyes, he could sense it: the threads of power, the architecture of worlds, the weight of destiny pressing down and he a reincarnate was already three moves ahead of everyone else.
In his past life he was an agent that worked for the underground he went by the code name wrath,he was grown there so he never knew his birth name. In this world however he was called Eren Crescent.Eren's first thought, even before fear or joy, was strategy. He needed to assess,adapt,survive and excel at all cost it was his second chance at life probably the last he will ever get and he won't waste it.
Eren would not simply live. He would dominate.
What ever the worldthrone he couldn't would wait to find out
Twelve Years Later
The blizzard on the outer slopes of Umbra Citadel's weather was war. Wind howled like a living thing, each gust a thousand frozen needles stabbing at exposed flesh. Visibility dropped to nothing and one misstep meant a broken bone, frostbite, or death.
Thwack.
A training dagger, sheathed to blunt its edge, struck with the force of iron. Pain lanced up Eren's arm to his shoulder. He swallowed the cold like a mouthful of ice.
"The blizzard is not your only enemy in battle," Darek's voice cut through the storm, a blade of authority sharper than the wind itself. His father's silhouette stood unwavering, breaths pluming like white flags of defiance in sub-zero air. " So is your opponent.Overlook them, and you die. Your guard is life,never drop it."
Eren tightened his grip. His practice dagger was weightless compared to the storm pressing against him but his father's lessons were heavier than any weapon. Every strike, every block, every step had been drilled into him since birth. At twelve years old, his body was lean muscle and sinew, hardened by decades of discipline that his mind had only begun to understand.
"Again."
Eren lunged. Well calculated footsteps, arms moving faster than conscious thought all aimed to fight back. The dagger found the gap he sought but Darek's wrist was like a whip, deflecting it with the ease of boredom. The parry's force threatened to rip the weapon from his hand.
A premonition flashed in his consciousness. Eren dodged swiftly. The strike grazed his jaw and sent him sprawling into the snow,the wind howled over him like the laughter of death.
"You may be my son but that instinct of yours is unnatural," Kael said, closer now, his words sharp as frozen steel. "You move like a veteran, not a boy of twelve."
Eren spat snow and blood, rising to meet Darek's merciless gaze. Grey skies mirrored in the flat, iron-grey eyes of his father but within them, a fire burned.The same hands that would crush him in training would tear apart anyone who threatened him.
"Well I learnt from the best, Father," Eren said, voice steady despite the tremor coursing through his body.
Darek studied him, hair whipped by the storm. "Tomorrow, you turn twelve. According to tradition you shall face the trial of the Umbra Citadel I believe you're ready, remember the families honor lies your shoulders."
Eren's heart thudded.
He knew what this meant. Every child of the Umbra Citadel knew.This was not a simple test of skill,it was a blood-soaked filter to find the strongest, the most cunning, the most ruthless of their generation.Those who survived would be sharpened tools to be used by empire of the World of shadows.
"Those who pass," Darek continued, stepping closer, his intense gaze pinning Eren in place. "will be chosen as one of the Five Champions. They will represent our world in the Succession war meanwhile Those who fail will be trained as assassins or mercenaries, to serve the World Kingdom and our clan. Their fate is one of service, not glory" However he paused, the silence between them filled only by the howling wind. "And those who are killed…" Darek's jaw tightened. "Their bodies will be returned to their clan. They will be buried with the honours of a warrior.There is no shame in death only finality."
The blizzard's howl faded against the weight of Darek's words. Eren looked at his father, at the grim pride and unspoken fear in the man's eyes. Darek loved him. In his own, harsh way, he loved him deeply. And tomorrow, he would send his son into a trial where children killed each other for a chance to die in a greater war.
"I will not fail," he said, voice low, carrying more certainty than his twelve years should allow.
Darek nodded in affirmation. "See that you don't. Now Your mother awaits. Do not keep her waiting."
As Eren trudged back through the storm,anticipation fluttered through his chest, not fear but the warmth of family. Even in the world of shadows, where cruelty shaped men, love carved its quiet corners.
The main hall door opened, and immediately he was swarmed. Four young girls, his sisters, tumbled over each other to reach him, arms outstretched.
"Eren! How was training?" one squealed, eyes sparkling.
"You were amazing! Did Father hurt you?" another asked, tugging at his cloak.
They jabbed, poked, and teased in their familiar ways, their small laughter cutting through the cold like firelight. Eren bent to hug them all at once, careful not to crush any of them.
"Slow down! I'm fine," he said, voice muffled by the chorus of warmth.
Even as he laughed, he inclined his head respectfully toward his father, who had paused at the side, letting the children have their moment. Darek's sternness had melted, replaced by the quiet pride of a father watching his eldest son grow.
Darek's attention shifted to his own wife entering the hall. She approached him with casual familiarity, her steps measured, eyes kind but sharp.
"Cold day?," she said with a soft chuckle
"Yes,so what are we having for dinner" Darek replied, shrugging.
They spoke in small talk: the state of the citadel, the progress of their other children, even the snow's unusual ferocity that year. Laughter lingered between them, light and unburdened. A rare and fleeting site reprieve from a world shaped by strategy, blood, and survival.
At the dining hall, the fire glowed warmly. Plates of steaming food lined the long table. Eren's mother cast a curious glance at Darek.
"You took care of him, I assume?" she asked gently, raising an eyebrow at his unreadable expression.
"Honey you worry to much besides his a young man he is way tougher than he looks" Darek replied simply, voice calm. "look you see he is fine."
The words were brief, sharp—but the warmth in his tone betrayed the cruelty of their world. Eren watched the exchange quietly, absorbing the subtle familial bonds that existed even in this world. Around him, his sisters chattered, their hands occasionally brushing his, stealing food, or offering teasing jabs. His mother smiled quietly, satisfied, while his father's eyes softened ever so slightly as he observed his eldest son enjoying the rare moment of joy.
The storm outside raged, but inside, laughter, warmth, and family held the space. For the evening, the burdens of trials were set aside.
Later that night as lay on his bed Eren took a deep breath,within him the strange feeling that his past life and present werecsomehow aligned troubled him. Meanwhile High above at Hightcrest the floating castle,the throne of the World King awaited. But tonight, he was simply a son, a brother, and a boy at the center of a family who loved him fiercely.