WORLD 1 - THE HERO'S FALL
Footsteps reverberated through the palace corridors.
Jackal Michael advanced with measured strides, each step leaving crimson traces upon the stone floor. The wound on his shoulder from the battle against the Demon King three days prior remained unhealed. His armor bore fractures throughout, yet he maintained his dignified posture.
He knew he was walking into a trap.
But there was no alternative. When the king summoned, the hero must answer. Such was the doctrine he had upheld for a decade.
The great hall's doors swung open.
Torchlight blazed brilliantly. Jackal narrowed his eyes, surveying his surroundings. Twelve individuals. All former comrades-in-arms.
Galahad stood at the vanguard, longsword already unsheathed.
"So this is how it ends." Jackal halted, his tone devoid of surprise. He had anticipated this long ago. "Twelve against one. Duke Redfield, you overestimate me."
"Not overestimation." The Duke emerged from beside the golden throne, crimson mantle flowing. "But certainty. One capable of slaying the Demon King possesses the capacity to eliminate anyone."
Jackal's lips curved into a mirthless smile. "So you execute me preemptively, before I can execute you? Fascinating logic."
"Spare me the feigned innocence, Jackal." The king rose to his feet. "You understand perfectly. One excessively powerful cannot exist in peacetime. History confirms this."
"History..." Jackal echoed, voice dripping with sardonic contempt. He locked eyes with the monarch. "I waged war for a decade on your behalf. Ten years. And this is my recompense?"
Silence answered him.
Jackal drew his blade, the steel emanating a pale azure luminescence. The mana within him had yet to fully regenerate.
"Very well. If you desire my demise..." He traced an arc with his sword, assuming combat stance. "Then several of you shall precede me into death."
"Activate!" Archmage Reynolds raised his hand.
Beneath Jackal's feet, a colossal magic circle erupted in scarlet radiance. The power coursing through him was immediately suppressed.
Jackal gritted his teeth. "A sealing array... You've prepared meticulously, Reynolds."
"My apologies, Jackal. But orders are absolute."
"Orders..." Jackal scoffed. "You've always attributed your cowardice to duty."
He slammed his foot against the floor. Mana detonated, fracturing portions of the array. Insufficient for escape, but adequate for movement.
Jackal launched himself toward Galahad with devastating velocity.
CLANG!
The blades collided. Galahad recoiled three paces, hands numbed by the impact.
"You retain such strength... even under suppression..."
"I vanquished the Demon King, have you forgotten?" Jackal pivoted, his kick sending a flanking knight airborne. "These wretches are inadequate!"
Three additional knights converged simultaneously. Sword, spear, warhammer.
Jackal vaulted upward, inverting mid-flight, evading two strikes. The third—the hammer—he couldn't dodge. He interposed his blade, the force launching him backward.
"Ghh..." His left arm went numb.
But he didn't cease. The instant his feet contacted the ground, he surged forward again, his blade executing a horizontal slash.
Blood erupted. A knight collapsed, chest rent asunder.
"One." Jackal declared coldly.
"We cannot permit him freedom!" Reynolds bellowed. "Intensify the seal!"
Four auxiliary mages materialized from the cardinal directions, their hands tracing arrays in the air. The crimson luminescence thickened exponentially.
Jackal felt his body's weight double. His mana compressed to a third of its capacity.
"Contemptible..." He knelt on one knee, breathing labored.
"Coordinated assault formation!" Galahad commanded.
Five knights encircled him, five blades descending in unison according to formations drilled thousands of times.
Jackal clenched his jaw, his sword rotating frantically.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Four strikes parried. The fifth—from Galahad—cleaved directly into his shoulder.
SLASH!
Blood sprayed. Armor shattered. Bone fractured.
"GHHHHH!" Jackal roared, yet refused to relinquish his weapon.
He channeled his remaining mana into his fist, driving it squarely into the leftmost knight's face.
BOOM!
The knight catapulted backward, penetrating three stone pillars before lying motionless.
"Two."
"Triple Fireball Barrage!" Reynolds and two fellow mages unleashed their incantation.
Three conflagrations, each massive as a carriage, hurtled forward.
Jackal couldn't evade. He concentrated all residual mana into his blade, cleaving directly into the central sphere.
BOOOM!
The detonation shook the entire hall. Jackal was propelled backward, his spine striking the wall violently.
Blood streamed from his mouth. Burns covered his body. Yet he stood once more.
"You all..." His voice descended into dangerous depths. "Believe I'll perish so easily?"
Jackal channeled every vestige of vitality remaining into his sword. The blade vibrated, azure radiance intensifying until the entire hall trembled.
"Heavenly Dragon..."
"Stop him! STOP HIM NOW!" The king shrieked, displaying terror for the first time.
"...CLEAVE!"
Jackal brought down his blade.
A colossal dragon of pure mana erupted, sundering the stone floor, obliterating the sealing array, charging toward the throne with annihilative force.
"MAXIMUM BARRIER!" All mages raised their hands in unison.
Five layers of magical barriers enveloped the throne.
The mana dragon struck.
CRAAAAAAAACK!
The first layer disintegrated.
CRAAAACK!
The second layer fractured.
CRACK!
The third layer was utterly destroyed.
Four auxiliary mages hemorrhaged and collapsed.
The fourth and fifth layers held, though severely compromised.
And Jackal... was completely depleted.
The sword in his grasp split in two, clattering to the floor. His body crumpled, blood flowing from innumerable wounds.
Galahad approached, his blade bearing a significant notch. The five surviving knights surrounded him, all grievously injured.
"Such power... even now..." Galahad gasped. "This is precisely why you must die, Jackal."
Six archers emerged from the shadows, bows drawn, arrows aimed true.
"Fire."
Six projectiles flew.
Piercing chest. Abdomen. Both legs. Both shoulders.
Jackal coughed blood, yet his eyes remained fixed upon the king.
"Traitors... all of you..."
Galahad stood before him, blade raised high.
"Forgive me... hero."
The sword descended.
Blood erupted.
Jackal Michael—the hero who had salvaged the world—fell upon the frigid stone floor.
In his final moment, a singular thought traversed his consciousness.
*If reincarnation exists... I shall never again trust humanity...*
Darkness consumed all.
WORLD 2 - THE ORDINARY END
Zhang Nian An sat hunched on the stone bench, the crumpled exam paper trembling in his hands.
38 points.
Mathematics.
"I'm dead... I'm truly dead..."
He gnawed his fingernails, a deplorable habit manifesting under duress. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He jolted, extracting it.
Father.
He stared at the name illuminated on the screen, hands trembling. He dared not answer.
Vibration. Vibration. Vibration.
Eventually it ceased.
A message materialized: "What time is it? Have you finished the exam?"
Nian An gazed at the message, his finger hovering above the keyboard. What could he type? "I'll be home slightly late"? But then father would inquire, "How did you perform?"
Always that question. Invariably.
He didn't respond, returning the phone to his pocket.
"I was beaten for 65 points last time... And now 38..." He swallowed hard. "The belt is absolutely certain..."
The image of his father wielding the belt materialized vividly. The whistle of leather cutting air. The searing agony across his back. The thunderous rebuke: "If you cannot study properly, then don't study at all!"
Nian An stood, staggering from the park. Where could he go? Home? But for what purpose? To be beaten? To be berated?
"Perhaps... wait until late evening?"
But that was impossible. Father would call. Would interrogate. Would discover the truth.
The phone vibrated again. New message: "What was your mathematics score?"
That accursed question.
"Why can't I learn..." Nian An muttered, tears welling. "Old Wang's son scored 95. Why do I only have 38..."
He traversed the sidewalk, mind spiraling chaotically. What could he say? Apologize? He'd apologized countless times. Promise improvement? He'd made such vows to exhaustion.
The phone vibrated incessantly. Father was calling.
Nian An halted, staring at the screen. Fingers trembling, he pressed the power button.
"I'm sorry, father... I don't dare answer..."
He continued walking, oblivious to his surroundings. His mind contained nothing but chaotic thoughts. Fear. Anxiety. Despair.
"What do I do... what can I do..."
Red light. But Nian An didn't perceive it.
A horn blared.
"Huh?"
He looked up. Headlights blazed. Too proximate. Too rapid.
Freight truck.
"Ah—"
BOOM!
Impact. Body airborne. Rotating through space.
Nian An glimpsed the crimson-orange sky. Evening clouds. Beautiful, truly.
Then he struck the pavement.
Pain. Excruciating pain.
But then... no more pain. Only cold.
The exam paper lay before his face. 38 points remained there.
*At least... I don't have to go home anymore...*
Darkness.
---
WORLD 3 - THE VILLAIN'S DEMISE
Fire. Everywhere, conflagration reigned.
Arcane sprinted through collapsing corridors, maniacal laughter echoing amidst detonations.
"BURN! BURN IT ALL!"
His hand continued inscribing arrays upon the walls, each stroke igniting crimson before erupting.
Ten years. A decade of enslavement by House Valenstein. Drawing arrays for their purposes. Tortured upon refusal. Imprisoned in lightless dungeons.
His family? Exterminated. Slaughtered when he first declined servitude.
"Now it's your turn!"
Arcane gestured dramatically, completing the twelfth array. The entire right wall exploded, obstructing pursuit.
"Arcane! Cease immediately! I shall spare your life!" Duke Valenstein's voice resonated from behind.
"Spare me?" Arcane pivoted, face smeared with blood and soot. "I require no mercy!"
He continued his escape. Ascending the staircase. Toward the highest floor.
The throne room. Where he had invested three months installing his magnum opus.
Behind him, footsteps in pursuit.
"Intercept him!"
Five guards blocked the path ahead.
Arcane didn't decelerate. His hand traced rapid patterns in the air, twelve strokes within two seconds.
"Flame Blade!"
Twelve swords of fire discharged, impaling three guards.
The remaining two charged forward.
Arcane sidestepped, his left hand continuing its work.
"Ice Lance!"
Five frozen projectiles pierced them.
He ran past. Never looking back.
The throne room doors stood open. Arcane entered, laughing uproariously.
"Magnificent... absolutely magnificent..."
The entire chamber was saturated with arrays. Walls, ceiling, floor—every surface glowing crimson.
Three months of labor. Three months of preparation.
And today, with the Duke absent...
"The moment has arrived..."
The door shattered. Duke Valenstein burst in with fifteen guards.
"YOU—!"
The Duke halted, surveying the chamber. His complexion turned ashen.
"You've gone mad... You'll perish alongside us!"
"I'm aware." Arcane's smile widened. "But that's inconsequential."
His hand began inscribing the final array—the activation sequence for all others.
"Shoot him! SHOOT NOW!"
An arrow flew, piercing Arcane's back.
He staggered, expelling blood. But his hand never ceased drawing.
"Not finished... not yet..."
Three more arrows. Chest, shoulder, abdomen.
Arcane collapsed to his knees, blood pooling beneath him. But the final stroke... was completed.
"Finished..."
He pressed his palm to the floor.
The arrays blazed incandescently.
"NO—! RETREAT! RETREA—"
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
The entire uppermost floor detonated. Magical flames consumed everything.
Arcane lay amidst the inferno, his body gradually immolating. Yet his lips still curved in a smile.
*Dying with you all... is sufficient...*
The Valenstein estate collapsed.
And with it, Arcane's existence extinguished.
---
WORLD 4 - THE CRUEL TRUTH
"I'm late... mother will worry..."
Toaru Takamiya sprinted along the sidewalk, his backpack rhythmically striking his spine. 7:45 PM already.
He turned into the darkened alley—a shortcut home. He'd traversed this route hundreds of times. Perfectly safe.
Cold.
Suddenly frigid.
Toaru stopped, glacial sensations coursing along his vertebrae. "What's happening..."
A shadow. In the alley's center.
Obscuring the streetlight.
Crimson eyes. Luminous within the darkness.
"Someone there...?" Toaru retreated a step.
The creature emerged. Pallid skin. Elongated fangs. Extended talons.
Not human.
"Human... young... fragrant..."
That voice induced tremors throughout Toaru. Every instinct screamed: FLEE!
"D-don't approach!"
He pivoted, running. His backpack fell. Books scattered.
Run. Sprint with maximum velocity.
A shadow flickered past.
The creature now stood before him.
"Running... I appreciate that."
"No—!"
An appendage seized his shoulder. Tremendous strength. Resistance futile.
"Release me! RELEASE—!"
Toaru struck, kicked, struggled. Useless.
The creature elevated him with one arm.
"Young blood... most delectable..."
Talons rent his shirt.
"DON'T! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! DON'T KILL ME!"
Toaru wept. Tears and mucus streaming profusely.
"I must return home... mother is waiting... please... please..."
The creature laughed. Glacially.
"They all... say that."
The talon descended.
RIP!
Agony.
His chest was eviscerated. Blood. Copious quantities.
Toaru couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream.
The creature released him.
He fell. Collapsed in his own sanguinary pool.
Cold. His body crystallizing.
*Mother... I'm sorry... I cannot return...*
Darkness.
Books lay scattered.
Blood expanded outward.
One existence terminated.
---
THE CONVERGENCE
Four deaths.
Four worlds.
One singular moment.
In that instant, space fractured. An invisible filament connected the four realities.
The dissipating souls were suddenly drawn into a vortex.
Jackal Michael. Zhang Nian An. Arcane. Toaru Takamiya.
Four individuals from four dimensions.
Four deaths.
And four rebirths imminent.