The night after leaving Rina's house was quiet. Rain clung to the edges of the city, dripping from rooftops and pooling in the cracks of the sidewalks. Akira and Ren walked side by side under the faint orange glow of the streetlights.
Ren exhaled softly. "She's been through a lot, huh? Rina… you can tell by her eyes."
Akira nodded, his gaze distant. Something about Rina's story — the way she mentioned the mark — lingered in his mind like an echo he couldn't shake.
As they reached the crossing, Ren waved. "See you tomorrow, man."
"Yeah," Akira murmured. "Tomorrow."
At home, the silence of his apartment felt heavier than usual. He collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling until the city lights outside dimmed into nothing.
But sleep didn't come.
---
He found himself standing in a place that wasn't real — a void made of mist and shadow. The air was thick, alive, pulsing with faint whispers.
Twelve figures emerged from the fog, tall and faceless, their outlines wavering like smoke. They formed a wide circle, watching him.
At the center, on a throne of obsidian veins and red light, sat a figure cloaked in darkness so deep it seemed to consume the world itself.
Akira's voice broke the silence. "Who are you?"
No answer. Only slow, heavy breathing.
Then, the figure on the throne raised a hand.
The twelve figures turned toward him in unison — their eyes glowing crimson.
A distorted, ancient voice echoed.
"The mark… returns…"
The ground beneath him rippled like liquid shadow. A skeletal hand shot upward, grasping his chest.
Akira gasped.
He fell backward, swallowed by the void—
---
He woke with a start, drenched in sweat. The city outside was still and silent.
His heart hammered. Then he noticed it — a faint red glow from his hand. The mark pulsed twice and faded, leaving only a dull ache.
"What… was that?" he whispered.
Sleep was impossible.
---
The next morning, Akira waited at the railway station for Ren. The trains came and went, but his eyes stayed fixed on the spot where the man in the grey coat had died.
A tap on his shoulder made him flinch.
Ren stood behind him. "You've been staring there for five minutes, man. What's on your mind?"
Akira forced a small smile. "Nothing… just thinking."
Ren frowned. "About that accident again? You have to stop obsessing."
Akira didn't answer. His hand throbbed faintly under his sleeve.
Ren sighed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's get to class before we're late."
---
The day dragged on. Akira felt detached, haunted by the memory of the dream.
During the lunch break, he went to the washroom to clear his head. The sound of running water echoed as he splashed his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror.
Then suddenly — pain.
A searing, unbearable burn flared from the mark on his hand. It glowed blood-red, veins around it darkening like spreading ink.
"Ah—!" Akira stumbled, gripping his wrist as the pain grew sharper, like something inside him was trying to tear free.
A dark mist poured from the mark, swirling in front of him. The mist thickened — condensed — and then a small black object dropped from his palm onto the sink with a metallic clink.
The glow on his mark faded, returning to its usual faint pattern. The pain stopped, leaving behind only confusion and fear.
Akira stared at the object — smooth, black, cold, and shaped like a claw. It pulsed faintly, almost like it was alive.
"What… are you?" he whispered.
He quickly wrapped it in a tissue and slipped it into his pocket before anyone else could walk in.
---
After school, Akira showed it to Ren behind the field.
Ren's eyes widened. "You're saying this came out of your hand!?"
Akira nodded. "I don't know how. It just… appeared when my mark started burning."
Ren took it carefully, turning it over. "Feels real enough. Not hot, not heavy… weird texture, though."
"Be careful," Akira warned. "We don't know what this thing even is."
Ren smirked nervously. "Guess your body's producing alien tech now."
Akira didn't laugh. His eyes stayed fixed on the strange black object. It pulsed faintly — almost like it was breathing.
---
That night, the rain whispered against the windows. Akira sat at his desk, the black object under the lamp's pale glow.
Closer now, it looked stranger — black as ink, smooth, pulsing. Inside, something flowed like dark smoke trapped beneath glass.
Then he noticed it — a tiny hole near the center.
Curiosity overcame caution. He picked up a craft blade, trying to pry it open gently.
The metal slipped — slicing his finger.
"Damn it!"
Blood dripped onto the object. He set it aside and grabbed a bandage.
But the moment he stepped out, the air shifted.
A pull — then a violent tug.
"What—?"
The world around him distorted. The black object glowed faintly, rippling like liquid. Darkness spiraled outward, dragging him off his feet.
The doorframe dissolved into shadow.
And then — nothing.
---
He landed hard.
The world around him was pitch black — a dead land with no stars, no wind, only silence.
Akira stood slowly. "Hello? Anyone?"
Only echoes answered.
He began walking, unsure of where he was going. Then, through the haze, he saw it — a massive black tree, its roots spreading endlessly across the dark ground.
Every instinct screamed to turn back.
When he reached it, he raised his bloodied hand and touched the bark.
Instantly, the tree shuddered — and the world erupted in screams.
Hundreds of bodies hung from its branches, writhing, crying for help.
Akira stumbled back, terror freezing him.
"Help… us…"
Then — one voice pierced through the chaos.
"Akira… help me!"
His eyes widened. "Mom!?"
He ran, scanning the faces — until he saw her. Pale, frightened, reaching toward him.
"Mom!"
He tried to climb the tree, but a violent force threw him backward. Pain flared through his ribs.
A figure stepped from the shadows — tall, formless, eyes burning red.
The shadow.
It grabbed him by the face, lifting him effortlessly.
"I should have finished you along with that useless man in the station," it hissed.
Akira clenched his fist, bloodied hand hitting the creature's arm.
The shadow laughed. "You think that will—"
It froze. Smoke hissed where his blood touched. Its hand burned crimson.
"What…?" it roared.
Akira fell, gasping.
The shadow swung a massive scythe.
But before it could strike, a brilliant radiance erupted around Akira.
The darkness of the void dissolved. He was pulled through a corridor of blinding, warm light, flowing and bright like sunlight streaming through water.
In an instant, the black void vanished, and he landed hard on his desk, the familiar world around him bathed in daylight.
The black object lay before him, faintly glowing — stained with his blood.
Akira pressed a trembling hand to his face. "Mom…"
Tears fell, but his voice hardened.
"I'll free you. Whatever it takes."
---
Far away, in the silent void, the shadow stood beneath the trembling black tree.
It stared at the spot where Akira vanished, fury and fear twisting its form.
"His blood… no… this isn't anger," it growled.
"This is bad".