Lars Torakuma was born into privilege, but never warmth.
The Torakuma estate stood high above the capital — a sprawling monument of stone and legacy that symbolized power to outsiders and expectation to those within its walls. Servants moved with quiet efficiency. Nobles visited with sharpened smiles. Every hallway echoed with etiquette and politics.
To most, it was an enviable life.
To Lars, it was simply home.
At nineteen, he had grown into a young man known throughout the household for an unusual trait — kindness. While noble heirs often cultivated ambition or authority, Lars offered patience. He greeted servants by name, listened when others spoke, and rarely allowed pride to guide his actions.
It earned him admiration.
And suspicion.
He was not the heir, but he stood close enough to succession to matter. In noble families, proximity to power was enough to create tension — even among blood.
Still, Lars refused to see conflict where others expected it. He believed family should be something stronger than politics. Something genuine.
That belief was why he didn't hesitate when his younger brother approached him that evening.
The sun had already dipped below the horizon, painting the estate windows in fading amber light. Lars had been resting in a private sitting room when the door opened.
His brother entered carrying two cups.
There was a softness to his expression — unfamiliar, but welcome.
"Brother," he said, offering one forward.
"A drink. I thought… we should talk."
Lars blinked in mild surprise before smiling.
Of course he accepted.
He took the cup without suspicion, lifting it in quiet acknowledgment before drinking.
The bitterness was subtle. Easy to ignore.
But within moments, something felt wrong.
A sharp pain bloomed in his chest. His breath shortened. The room tilted as though reality itself had shifted beneath his feet. The cup slipped from his fingers and struck the floor with a ringing clang.
His legs failed him.
As he collapsed, his gaze lifted toward his brother — who stood motionless across the room.
And in that stillness…
Understanding arrived.
Not fury.
Not panic.
Just a quiet, hollow realization.
His vision dimmed as darkness closed in around him.
His final thought echoed softly through his mind:
He had only ever wanted a family that truly cared for one another.
Then his eyes shut.
And the world disappeared.
Darkness did not feel empty.
It stretched endlessly in all directions, silent yet vast — like standing beneath a night sky without stars. Lars had no sense of body, weight, or breath. Only awareness remained, drifting in the stillness.
Time lost meaning.
Seconds might have passed. Or centuries.
Then something changed.
A distant glow appeared — faint at first, no larger than a spark on the horizon of nothingness. It pulsed softly, neither warm nor cold, simply present. With each passing moment, the light grew, expanding through the void like the slow birth of a star.
Lars focused on it, drawn by instinct he couldn't explain.
The glow took shape.
A figure emerged — tall, indistinct, wrapped in radiance that shimmered like shifting constellations. No wings. No clear face. Only a luminous silhouette surrounded by drifting strands of light that bent and curved like fragments of galaxies.
His vision struggled to comprehend it.
Not because it was blurred — but because it felt too vast to understand.
The figure approached without footsteps, without motion, yet the distance between them vanished all the same.
A presence settled over Lars — ancient, immeasurable, and calm beyond human emotion.
He tried to speak.
Tried to move.
Neither obeyed.
Only thought remained.
Am I… dead?
The figure paused before him.
Light rippled outward, distorting the void itself.
Then a voice reached him.
It did not travel through air.
It resonated through existence — layered, echoing, neither male nor female, young nor old.
"Lars Torakuma."
The sound of his name stirred something within him.
"You arrive carrying neither hatred nor vengeance."
A pause stretched across eternity.
"How rare."
The radiance shifted, as though observing him from every angle at once.
"Tell me… child of a fleeting world —"
"Given betrayal at the end of your life…"
"Why does your heart still seek connection?"
The question hung in the cosmic silence.
Waiting.
Lars' voice trembled, though he did not know how he was even speaking.
"I thought… families were supposed to protect each other," he whispered, the words drifting into the endless void. "But time and time again, true intent slips through the cracks. Is there… no hope of a true family? Must it always be of blood… or is it through the battles fought together? I… I do not know anymore."
Silence followed. Not the ordinary silence of a quiet room, but the weightless, all-encompassing silence of the void itself. Even in this emptiness, his words lingered — fragile yet impossible to ignore.
The figure of light shifted. Radiance bent, threads of cosmic glow spiraling as though stirred by emotion. Lars could feel it listening — not as a human might, but as something vast, something older than stars.
Then the voice returned. Not accusatory. Not kind. Simply… curious.
"Lars Torakuma," it said, resonating through every corner of existence. "You speak of hope… yet you carry wounds deeper than you realize. You have known betrayal. You have known loss. And still… you question, still you seek."
A pause stretched, unmeasured, like centuries compressed into a heartbeat.
"Perhaps… the family you seek is not given," the voice continued, layered and infinite, "but earned. Not by blood, but by choice. Not by inheritance, but by bonds forged in struggle. By those who stand beside you when the world would see you fall."
Lars' heart, though weightless in this void, felt a spark — a small, stubborn flame amid the darkness.
Could he… rebuild what he had lost? Could he forge a family stronger than any bloodline?
The light pulsed gently, a cosmic rhythm, as if awaiting his answer.
The light pulsed once more.
Then the void began to fade.
Lars felt something he had not felt since his final moments — sensation. Weight. Form. Awareness returning piece by fragile piece. It was as though existence itself were rebuilding him, thread by thread.
He looked down.
For the first time since the darkness claimed him, he saw himself.
This was not the body he remembered.
His limbs were leaner, smaller — not weakened, but younger. Smooth skin untouched by the years he had lived. Strands of unfamiliar hair drifted before his eyes, pale as falling snow, floating in the emptiness around him.
White.
He raised a hand, studying it with quiet disbelief. When he blinked, reflected light revealed eyes that glowed with a vibrant blue — far brighter than he had ever known.
He was changed.
Reborn.
And completely unclothed, suspended in nothingness.
Before he could question it further, a gentle force tugged at him — upward. Not harsh. Not commanding. Simply inevitable. His body drifted, carried by an unseen current toward a growing radiance above.
The glow expanded until it consumed everything.
Then—
Cold.
His body broke the surface of water with a soft splash.
Lars gasped as breath returned to him, lungs filling sharply. He floated instinctively, instinct replacing confusion as sensation overwhelmed him — cool liquid against his skin, echoing droplets, the scent of damp stone.
He blinked, vision clearing.
He was lying within a shallow pond.
Above him stretched the curved ceiling of a cavern, illuminated by faint natural light pouring through an opening high above. Moss clung to the stone walls, and mineral formations glimmered faintly in the glow. Ripples spread across the water as he slowly pushed himself upright.
Reality settled in.
He was alive.
In a place unknown.
In a body unfamiliar.
Lars stepped carefully out of the pond, water trailing from his white hair, and caught his reflection on the surface behind him. He paused.
Younger. Around fifteen.
White hair framing his face.
Bright blue eyes staring back.
No noble attire.
No family crest.
No status.
Just himself.
Alone in a cave in another world.
He inhaled slowly, steadying his thoughts.
Whatever this world was… whatever awaited him beyond this cavern…
This time—
He would build something real.
A family of his own choosing.
The stillness of the cavern settled around Lars as the last ripples faded from the pond behind him. Cool air brushed against his skin, raising goosebumps he hadn't felt in what seemed like a lifetime.
He took a cautious step forward.
Bare feet touched smooth stone, damp in places and textured in others. Each movement echoed softly, swallowed by the vast hollow chamber. The light filtering from above was faint but enough to guide him, revealing twisting formations of rock and veins of mineral that shimmered like faint stars embedded in the walls.
Yet something else lingered here.
Something unseen.
A strange sensation brushed against him — subtle, tingling, like warmth spreading through his chest and fingertips. It pulsed through the air, flowing around him, through him. Not painful. Not frightening. Simply… present.
Lars paused.
He raised a hand, turning it slowly as if expecting to see something clinging to his skin.
Nothing.
Still, the sensation remained — gentle currents moving past him like an invisible tide.
What is this…?
He could not name it. Could not understand it.
All he could do was wonder.
Unbeknownst to him, the cave overflowed with mana — dense, vibrant, alive in a way few places in this world were. It embraced him like a silent welcome, responding to his reborn presence.
But Lars only felt mystery.
He continued exploring, cautious but curious, until a new realization struck him — sudden and absolute.
He froze.
Slowly… painfully… he looked down.
Silence filled the cavern.
His face flushed instantly.
"I—"
He spun around instinctively as if expecting witnesses, heart racing.
There was no one.
Only stone.
Only echoes.
Only the undeniable truth that he was completely, entirely naked.
A surge of embarrassment overwhelmed him as he hurriedly covered himself, cheeks burning despite the solitude.
"This is… not ideal," he muttered under his breath.
The rebirth. The strange cave. The unknown sensations in the air — all momentarily overshadowed by the urgent and deeply practical problem of modesty.
Lars glanced around with renewed purpose.
Exploration could wait.
Clothing could not.
Lars moved deeper into the cavern, his steps careful and deliberate, one arm awkwardly held across himself in a futile attempt at modesty. His eyes scanned every shadowed corner and jagged outcrop, hoping to find something — cloth, leaves, anything that could serve as cover.
Stone answered him with silence.
As he walked, the initial shock of awakening began to settle, leaving space for thought — and with it, confusion that pressed heavily against his mind.
He was alive.
He could feel the chill air, hear the echo of each step, smell the damp earth surrounding him. These were not the sensations of death as he had imagined it.
Yet he remembered clearly.
The cup.
The bitterness.
The collapse.
The darkness.
And the figure.
His pace slowed.
That radiant being lingered vividly in memory — vast, cosmic, impossible to comprehend. Its voice had reached beyond sound itself, speaking directly into his existence.
Kind soul…
Lars frowned slightly.
"Who… were you?" he murmured to the empty cavern.
There was no reply. Only the distant drip of water echoing from unseen crevices.
He continued onward, thoughts circling.
Was this life?
An afterlife?
A dream conjured in his final moments?
Or—
A realization settled over him like falling dust.
Perhaps he truly had died… and been sent somewhere else.
Not an ending.
A continuation.
Reborn into a world unfamiliar, in a body not his own, carrying memories of a life that no longer existed.
The idea brought no panic. Only quiet uncertainty.
Questions filled him — endless, spiraling:
Why him?
What was expected of him?
Was there purpose… or chance?
But answers were nowhere to be found.
Only stone corridors.
Only faint light.
Only the strange unseen energy drifting through the cavern.
Lars exhaled slowly, steadying himself.
Whatever the truth, standing still would not reveal it.
And he still had one immediate, pressing concern.
"…Clothes," he said under his breath, scanning the darkness ahead.
With cautious determination — and lingering embarrassment — he continued his search.
Lars pressed onward, deeper into the cavern.
Though he could not name the sensation guiding him, he found himself drifting in a particular direction — following the subtle currents that brushed against his skin like a whisper urging him forward. The strange energy in the air felt denser along this path, warmer somehow, and he trusted the instinct without understanding why.
Step after careful step, he walked.
Stone narrowed into a winding passage, the ceiling dipping lower, forcing him to duck beneath jagged outcroppings. The air shifted — less stagnant now — touched by a faint current that carried the scent of the outside world.
Then he saw it.
Light.
Distant at first — no more than a pale glow breaking through the darkness ahead — but unmistakable. It spilled into the tunnel in soft rays, illuminating dust and moisture suspended in the air.
An exit.
His pace quickened.
Bare feet slapped lightly against the stone as he moved faster, urgency replacing caution. Questions churned through his mind — about his rebirth, the cosmic entity, this unfamiliar body, this unfamiliar world — and somewhere beyond that light might lie answers.
Or at the very least…
Clothes.
The passage widened as he approached, brightness growing stronger until it forced his eyes to squint. The cave walls softened into silhouettes against the glow, and the sound of open space — wind, distant water, life — began to reach his ears.
Lars slowed near the threshold, heart steady but expectant.
He stood at the edge of the cave's mouth, light washing over him, the world beyond just beginning to reveal itself.
For the first time since awakening…
He was about to see the world he had been reborn into.
Lars stepped beyond the mouth of the cavern.
Light wrapped around him, warm and alive, and he instinctively raised an arm to shield his eyes. After the dim stillness of stone and shadow, the brightness felt overwhelming — vibrant, saturated, impossibly rich.
When his vision adjusted, he lowered his arm.
And stared.
A vast forest stretched before him, rolling outward in every direction like a sea of green. Towering trees reached skyward, their trunks wide and ancient, branches layered with dense foliage that filtered sunlight into shifting mosaics across the ground. The air hummed with life — the soft rustle of leaves, distant birdsong, and the gentle whisper of wind threading through branches.
It was nothing like the manicured gardens of noble estates.
This was untamed.
Alive.
Beautiful.
Color fluttered through the air. Insects with luminous wings drifted between beams of sunlight — butterflies in shades of sapphire, gold, and violet, their patterns shimmering as though painted by light itself. Smaller glowing creatures darted between flowers, leaving faint trails like sparks dissolving into the breeze.
Lars stepped forward slowly, bare feet brushing against cool grass.
For a moment, the weight of everything that had happened faded. The betrayal. The void. The questions.
He simply existed.
Then his gaze shifted.
Beyond the greenery — partially swallowed by vines and moss — stood remnants of something older. Broken stone pillars leaned at tired angles. Fragments of carved walls rose from the earth like bones of a forgotten giant. Weathered symbols etched into their surfaces had long since lost their meaning, eroded by time.
Ruins.
Evidence that people — or something like them — had once lived here.
Hope stirred alongside caution.
If there had been civilization… there might still be.
Lars inhaled deeply, steadying himself as reality returned.
He was alone.
In an unknown world.
Without answers.
Without clothes.
Yet standing beneath the open sky, surrounded by life and mystery, he felt something unexpected take root within him.
Possibility.
Whatever awaited beyond this forest…
This was where his new story began.
For a long moment, Lars stood captivated by the forest's beauty — the shifting light, the quiet song of insects, the dreamlike flutter of jeweled wings drifting through the air.
Then reality returned with abrupt clarity.
He blinked.
"…Right."
His face warmed again as he glanced down, reminded all too plainly of his current lack of dignity. Wonder or not, survival demanded practicality.
Scanning the surrounding greenery, Lars set to work. Large, broad leaves proved sturdy enough when layered together, and flexible vines bound them in place. It was crude — uneven, improvised — but after several attempts and a fair bit of fumbling, he fashioned something wearable.
Not noble attire.
Not elegant.
But serviceable.
He exhaled, relieved.
"Better."
With modesty restored — at least partially — Lars turned his focus outward again. The ruins nearby tempted curiosity, but the greater question pressed forward: civilization. If he was to understand this world, he would need people. Language. Context.
He began walking.
The forest floor cushioned his steps, rich with moss and fallen leaves. Sunlight danced between branches above, and the gentle hum of life surrounded him. For a time, the journey felt almost peaceful — like wandering through a living sanctuary untouched by hardship.
But gradually…
Something shifted.
It was subtle at first.
The air grew heavier.
The sounds of insects faded.
Birdsong became scarce.
The vibrant harmony that once filled the forest dulled into a quieter, tenser stillness. Trees thickened, their roots twisting across the ground like grasping fingers. Undergrowth grew dense and tangled, forcing Lars to navigate carefully. Shadows stretched longer between trunks, swallowing light that once seemed abundant.
He paused near the boundary where the change became undeniable.
Behind him — tranquility.
Ahead — wilderness.
It was the same forest.
Yet it felt different.
Less welcoming.
More watchful.
Danger lingered here — not seen, not heard, but sensed in instinct alone.
Lars steadied himself, gaze fixed forward.
If civilization existed, it might lie beyond this threshold.
And if danger awaited…
Then this would be his first trial in a new world.
He took a breath — and stepped onward.
Lars slowed as he approached the shift in the forest.
Up close, the change felt even stranger.
The air itself seemed different — thicker, faintly humming against his skin. He reached out cautiously, fingers brushing forward through empty space… and felt resistance. Not solid, not visible, but unmistakable. Like passing through cool water that wasn't there.
He pulled his hand back, startled.
There was no wall he could see.
No light.
No structure.
Yet something marked the boundary between the tranquil forest behind him and the harsher wilderness ahead.
He stepped through again, testing it. The sensation washed over him — a subtle tingling that faded as quickly as it appeared.
Lars frowned.
What was that…?
He couldn't name it. Couldn't understand it. But instinct whispered a simple conclusion.
Protection.
He glanced back toward the vibrant forest he'd left behind — the gentle light, the butterflies, the quiet harmony.
If something protected that place…
Then what exactly required keeping out?
The thought lingered longer than he liked.
He turned forward again.
And kept walking.
The deeper he went, the more the forest pressed in around him. Branches clawed at the sky. Shadows stretched across the ground. Even the air felt sharper — alive with tension instead of calm.
Then he heard it.
A sound carried through the trees.
Low.
Uneven.
Feral.
He froze.
It came again — somewhere ahead — a mixture of rustling and guttural noise that clearly belonged to something alive. Something wild.
Fear tightened in his chest.
He was unarmed.
Inexperienced.
Reborn into a world he didn't understand.
Every sensible instinct urged caution.
But another thought pushed back.
If he turned away now… he would learn nothing.
He would remain lost.
Alone.
Lars swallowed, steadying his breathing.
He didn't know what lay beyond this forest — danger or answers — but standing still would not bring him closer to either.
Step by careful step, he moved forward toward the sound.
Afraid.
Curious.
Determined.
The sound came again — closer now.
Branches shifted ahead, leaves trembling as something pushed through the undergrowth. Lars instinctively stopped, muscles locking in place as his breath caught in his throat.
Then he saw it.
A wolf emerged into view.
No — not a wolf as he knew them from stories. This creature was larger, its frame thick with hardened muscle beneath rough gray fur. Scars crisscrossed its body, jagged lines etched into its hide like a map of countless battles survived. Drool slipped from bared fangs, catching the dim forest light as it fell to the earth below.
It was wild.
Feral.
Alive in a way that demanded respect — and fear.
Lars froze.
He had never seen such a beast in his previous life, only read of them in tales meant to entertain or warn children. Those stories suddenly felt far less fictional now.
His mind raced.
Run?
Hide?
Fight?
Fight was impossible.
Run might provoke pursuit.
So he did nothing.
Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself behind a thick tree trunk, pressing still against the bark. He steadied his breathing, forcing himself to remain calm — quiet — invisible.
The beast lifted its head.
It sniffed.
Once.
Twice.
Then more vigorously, nostrils flaring as if catching scent carried on the wind.
Food.
That was the instinct written plainly in its posture.
Lars' heart pounded in his chest, loud enough he feared it might betray him. He stayed perfectly still, resisting every urge to move, watching through the edge of his vision.
The wolf stepped forward, muscles rolling beneath scarred fur, senses sharpened and searching.
It was close enough now that he could hear its breathing.
And the distance between them was shrinking.
Lars remained frozen behind the tree, heart hammering against his ribs as the scarred wolf prowled closer. Every breath felt louder. Every movement felt like betrayal.
Then—
A voice.
Not spoken.
Not heard through the air.
It echoed within him.
Fight.
Lars stiffened.
"What—?" he whispered internally, panic rising.
"Fight? How?!"
He waited — desperate for guidance, instruction, anything.
Silence answered.
And then the wolf found him.
Its head snapped toward his hiding place, lips peeling back to reveal glistening fangs. A feral snarl tore from its throat, raw and hungry, vibrating through the forest air.
Fear seized him.
He had just been reborn.
Just begun walking this world.
Was this where it ended?
I came here… only to die again?
Time seemed to slow as the wolf tensed.
Then something shifted inside him.
Not confidence.
Not certainty.
Resolve.
If death stood before him, then he would meet it standing.
His fist clenched.
Adrenaline surged through his veins — and with it came that same strange sensation he had felt since awakening. The unseen currents in the air gathered, drawn toward him, condensing around his hand like invisible dust pulled by gravity.
He did not understand it.
Did not know its name.
Yet instinct accepted it.
The wolf lunged.
Fast — impossibly fast — its body cutting through the distance with lethal intent. But as it moved, Lars perceived something strange. The beast's motion remained clear to him, trackable despite its speed. And more than that—
He saw faint points of subtle energy across its body.
Small convergences of importance.
Vulnerabilities.
His body moved before thought could intervene.
He twisted aside, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws meant to end him. The moment stretched thin as instinct guided him forward.
With all the strength he possessed — and all the unknown force gathered into his clenched hand — Lars struck.
His fist drove into one of those glowing points.
Impact.
A thunderous burst erupted at contact — not merely sound, but force. The shockwave tore outward, ripping through the air behind the wolf. Trees splintered. Earth scarred. Vegetation flattened in a violent line stretching into the forest beyond.
The beast was thrown lifelessly aside.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unreal.
Lars stood motionless, breath shaking, fist still extended as the unseen energy dispersed into the air once more.
The wolf did not rise.
He had survived.
He had fought.
He had won.
And as the forest settled around him, Lars Torakuma took his first true step into this world — no longer merely reborn, but awakened.