Awareness didn't return to me like a sunrise; it hit me like a physical blow. The first thing I felt was the vibration of screaming voices—shouts that weren't just in the air, but echoing inside the hollow spaces of my skull.
'Am I dead? Is this the void?' I tried to reach for my memories, but they were tangled in a web of unfamiliar rage. I forced my eyelids open. I was lying on a floor that felt like it was made of dried filth and jagged wood. The room was a wreck—broken chairs, shattered bottles, and the metallic stench of old blood.
Then, the scream from within tore through my mind.
"GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HEAD, YOU FILTHY PARASITE! I'LL TEAR YOUR SOUL APART! THIS IS MY BODY!"
It was Zark. The bandit who had plunged a dagger into my chest. His consciousness was thrashing like a caged predator against the walls of his own brain. The pressure was so immense I felt my new eyes might burst. I clutched my head, the pain far worse than any physical wound.
"SHUT... UP!" I roared. My new voice was deep, a guttural rasp that sounded like grinding stones.
The silence that followed was heavy. The soul within me flinched, suppressed by the sheer weight of my cold, analytical willpower. I stood up, looking at my hands—thick, scarred, and stained with the very blood that belonged to 'me.'
A man burst through the door. Barret, a scrawny coward with a twitchy eye, looked at me with fear. "Boss? You've been out for hours. We thought you'd kicked it."
I stared at him, my mind scanning for a way to act. "The body," I rasped. "Where is the boy I killed?"
"Don't worry, Boss," Barret grinned, showing rotted teeth. "I dumped the brat in the ravine. The wolves are probably picking his bones clean right now. We found your weird toy and those papers, though."
He handed me my phone and my manga pages. Holding them in Zark's massive, murderous hands felt like a sick joke. My life had been tossed away like garbage. But before I could even process the horror, the world outside exploded.
The Azure Strike
A blinding flash of blue light shattered the hideout's front door. The air temperature plummeted, turning my breath into a mist. Standing in the wreckage was a man who looked less like a human and more like a force of nature.
Kiran of the Azure Tide.
His hair was the color of a stormy ocean, and his eyes were like frozen sapphires. He was one of the Seven Great Heroes. Kiran moved with a speed that defied human sight. Before I could even reach for a weapon, he was there.
The cold edge of a legendary blade pressed against my throat. I felt the sting of the steel—a single, warm drop of blood trickled down my neck. The aura radiating from him was so heavy it felt like being at the bottom of the sea.
"One move," Kiran whispered, his voice as calm as a frozen lake, "and your head leaves your shoulders. You've spilled enough blood for one lifetime, scum."
I stared into his blue eyes, paralyzed by the sheer mana he exerted. He didn't treat us like men; he treated us like vermin to be collected.The Caged Parade
We were shoved into iron cages, our hands bound by mana-dampening shackles. As the carriage rolled toward the heart of the capital, I watched the citizens of Astheria. They weren't just cheering; they were chanting.
"KIRAN! KIRAN! THE AZURE HERO!"
They threw stones and filth at our cage, praising the man who had captured us. I watched the 'Heroes' from my world—Sakura, Kenji, Hina, and Yumi—standing on the royal balcony, looking down at us with a mix of pity and triumph. To them, I was just a nameless monster.
They blindfolded us and dragged us down into the bowels of the Royal Dungeon. I was thrown into a solitary pit, a hole where the light never reached. The only company I had were the scuttling of rats and the constant, maddening screaming of Zark's soul.
"Run! We have to run! Let me take control, you freak!" Zark's voice was a drill in my brain.
I slammed my head against the stone wall, over and over, until the darkness took me again. "Be silent," I hissed into the void. "Or I will find a way to kill us both."
The Execution Grounds
Days later—or perhaps it was weeks—I was dragged into the blinding sunlight of a massive arena. Thousands of people occupied the stands, their voices a roar of bloodlust.
In the royal box sat King Valerius, flanked by the summoned Heroes. Kiran stood right next to the King, a silent sentinel of justice.
"People of Astheria!" the King's voice boomed. "Our new Heroes must prove their worth! To celebrate their arrival, we shall have an execution! This beast who attacked a Hero-Candidate shall face the judgment of the heavens!"
They unchained me and gave me a rusted, blunt sword. Across the sand, the girl named Hina stepped forward. Her Fire Element flared, her staff glowing with a dangerous heat.
"I... I have to do this. For the world," she whispered, her face hardening.
"Go on, Heroes! Kill the monster! If he survives, he earns his freedom!" the King lied. I knew it was a lie. I was a puppet, meant to be shredded for their entertainment.
Hina raised her staff. A massive sphere of crimson fire descended from the sky. It hit me squarely, the heat charring Zark's flesh instantly. The pain was a living thing, tearing a scream from my throat that sounded like a dying animal.
Zark's soul went berserk. Fueled by his Earth Element and pure terror, my body moved on its own. I lunged at the Heroes, a burning, blackened demon of a man, swinging the rusted sword with desperate fury.
But then, Kenji, the Dual-Element Hero, moved.
He didn't use a spell. He didn't use a trick. With a speed that made Kiran look slow, he appeared in my path. His blade caught the light for a split second before it swept through the air.
I felt it. A clean, cold line.
My vision split. My body was no longer one. I felt my soul being torn into two distinct halves as my physical form was bisected. I hit the sand in two separate pieces, the smell of my own burning flesh the last thing I knew.
'Finally... the observer... can close his eyes...'
In the absolute silence of my death, a voice whispered. It wasn't the Goddess. It was something far more ancient, something that lived in the cracks between worlds.
"Oh, my dear... you cannot run. Your story is just beginning to get interesting."
A blinding, violet light pulled me from the abyss. I felt a surge of mana so violent it felt like my veins were being filled with liquid stars.My eyes snapped open.
I was standing in the center of the arena. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but it sounded muffled, like I was hearing it through water. I felt a heavy, exquisite sword in my hand.
I looked down. At my feet lay the charred, bisected corpse of Zark. I was looking down at my own previous existence.
I looked at my reflection in the pool of blood spreading across the sand. Neatly trimmed hair. Eyes that held the power of Fire and Wind.
I was inside Kenji. I was the Hero who had just delivered the killing blow.
The mental pressure was a nuclear explosion. Kenji's pride, his memories of our world, and his immense mana were now crashing against my analytical consciousness. My chest burned with a pain so sharp I couldn't keep my balance.
As the King and the crowd cheered for the "Hero," I collapsed onto the sand, clutching my head in a silent scream of agony.