The first scream came from the sky.
Not thunder.
Not lightning.
A soundless fracture spread across the clouds, like glass splitting under invisible pressure. For a single breath, the world froze — traffic lights hung mid-change, dust stalled in the air, even the wind seemed to forget how to move.
Then everything collapsed.
Lin Chen staggered as a crushing weight pressed down on his chest. His knees hit the pavement before he understood why. Around him, people fell one after another, faces drained of color, hands clutching their heads as if something unseen were forcing its way inside.
Pain bloomed behind his eyes.
Not sharp — heavy. Ancient.
As though the world itself had turned its gaze upon him.
Someone screamed nearby. Another voice followed. Panic spread faster than any disease ever could.
"What's happening?!"
"Is this an earthquake?!"
"No—look at the sky!"
Lin Chen forced himself to stand. His heart pounded violently, not from fear alone, but from something deeper — a terror that didn't belong to this moment.
Because he remembered this.
The pressure.
The silence.
The moment before everything ended.
Memory struck like a blade.
He saw cities burning.
Highways choked with abandoned cars.
Humans tearing at one another for food and shelter.
Monsters that learned.
Survivors who smiled as they betrayed you.
He remembered dying.
Torn apart in a ruined subway station, screaming until his throat gave out.
The apocalypse.
"I… came back?"
The words barely escaped his lips.
The sky split open.
Not physically — not yet — but something descended all the same. A ripple passed through the air, warping vision, bending sound. People clutched their ears and collapsed.
Then the first thing crawled out of the ground.
The asphalt cracked near the intersection ahead. A hand — gray, twisted, with too many joints — forced its way upward. A creature followed, dragging itself into the world with wet, scraping sounds.
Its mouth opened sideways.
A woman froze in front of it.
"Help—!"
The creature lunged.
Blood sprayed across the street.
The scream ended.
Chaos erupted.
People ran in every direction, trampling one another. Some fell and never got back up. Lin Chen's body moved before his mind could catch up.
Run.
He turned and sprinted down the nearest alley.
His lungs burned. His legs screamed. He didn't look back — because he knew exactly what he would see.
In his previous life, this was where he had died.
A dead end.
The alley narrowed sharply before slamming into a brick wall. Garbage overflowed from split bags. The stench of rot filled the air.
Footsteps scraped behind him.
No — not footsteps.
Claws.
Lin Chen spun around just as the creature leapt.
Too fast.
Too close.
So this was it again.
Fear surged — but this time, something else rose with it.
Not hope.
Defiance.
"I won't die like this."
The moment those words formed, a weight settled against his spine.
Cold.
Heavy.
Real.
Not a voice.
Not a screen.
A presence.
It felt like steel resting inside his bones.
A thought brushed past his consciousness — indifferent, ancient, without emotion.
Every blade demands payment.
Pain exploded in his head.
Something tore loose.
Not flesh — something deeper.
The creature was cut in half midair.
There was no flash.
No visible weapon.
Only a sudden, clean separation — as if the world itself had been sliced.
The upper half of the monster slid to the ground.
Silence returned.
Lin Chen collapsed to his knees, gasping.
His hands trembled violently.
He was alive.
But something was wrong.
Very wrong.
A hollow sensation spread through his chest. Not physical pain — absence. Like reaching for a familiar memory and finding nothing there.
He tried to recall his mother's face.
The image wavered… then blurred.
Gone.
Lin Chen's breath hitched.
"No… no, no…"
A wave of terror far worse than death washed over him.
The sword had answered.
And it had taken its price.
Above him, the sky continued to fracture — slowly, patiently — as if the world was only just beginning to collect what it was owed.