The sky above the capital city of Aethelgard was the color of dried blood. It had been that way since the Great Collapse—a constant reminder that the world was dying, and humanity was merely waiting for the end.
Ten-year-old Rayan knelt in the cold, black mud of the Outer Slums. His body trembled, not from the biting wind, but from the searing pain in his back. A heavy, iron-shod boot pressed his face deeper into the filth.
"Look at this trash," a mocking voice sneered.
It was Julian, a young noble from the House of Malphas. Julian was barely two years older than Rayan, but he already radiated the golden aura of 'Essence'—the energy that separated the masters from the slaves.
"I asked for my boots to be cleaned, slave," Julian hissed, pressing harder. "Instead, you got mud on my silk trousers. Do you know how many lives a piece of silk is worth in this world? More than a thousand of yours."
Rayan didn't answer. He couldn't. His lungs were burning, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
"Answer me!" Julian roared. He snapped his fingers, and a shard of bone—manifested through his family's cursed bloodline—shot out and pierced Rayan's shoulder.
A guttural scream tore through Rayan's throat. Around them, other slaves watched with hollow eyes. They didn't help. In Earth-0, pity was a luxury that got you killed.
"Enough, Julian," a cold, feminine voice interrupted.
Rayan looked up through a blurry haze. It was Lady Elara, a young high-ranking noble. She was the only person who had ever looked at Rayan with something other than disgust. She tossed a dry piece of bread toward him. "Don't waste your energy on a Void-born. They are useless even as sacrifices."
Void-born. That was the curse Rayan carried. He was born without the ability to manifest Essence. In a world ruled by the 13 Royal Bloodlines, he was a defect. A mistake
The Sacrifice
That night, the sky grew darker. The Doomsday Clock—the massive, glowing ring of ancient symbols in the heavens—pulsed with a sickly purple light. It was time for the Harvest.
The soldiers of the House of Cruor marched into the slums. They weren't looking for workers; they were looking for meat.
"The Elders are hungry!" the Commander shouted. "Gather the rejects!"
Rayan was grabbed by his hair and dragged toward the Great Altar. Beside him, dozens of other children cried out for mothers who were already dead. They were being led toward a shimmering, jagged tear in space—a Void Rift.
"Throw the Void-born in first," the Commander ordered, pointing at Rayan. "His lack of soul-energy will stabilize the portal for the higher sacrifices."
Rayan was lifted and thrown like a piece of trash. As he soared through the air, he saw the faces of the 13 Bloodlines watching from their high balconies, sipping wine as if they were watching a theater performance.
I hate you, Rayan thought, his heart cold and heavy. If there is a God... let me live long enough to tear your world apart.
Then, he hit the rift.
The Descent
The world didn't just go dark; it ceased to exist.
Rayan fell through a dimension where geometry was broken and time felt like acid on his skin. This was The Beyond.
Huge, mountain-sized creatures with a thousand unblinking eyes drifted through the darkness. They sensed the tiny, broken human. They moved toward him, their mouths opening to reveal rows of jagged, cosmic teeth.
Rayan felt a cold, parasitic shadow enter his chest. It wasn't killing him—it was merging with his hatred.
"You want to eat me?" Rayan whispered, his voice sounding like cracking glass in the silence of the void. "Fine. But I will start eating first."
As the first Elder reached for him, Rayan didn't scream. He bit back.
[End of Chapter 1]