The sky was breaking.
Not metaphorically.
Not poetically.
It was actually breaking—cracking apart like shattered glass, layers of reality peeling away as if the universe itself had grown tired of existing.
Stars died without light.
Worlds collapsed without sound.
And at the center of it all, a boy knelt in silence.
Blood dripped from his fingers, but it never reached the ground. There was no ground left—only fragments of ruined dimensions floating in endless darkness.
Around him lay bodies.
Some were human.
Some were not.
Broken weapons. Torn wings. Divine halos snapped in half.
Gods were dead.
The boy stared at his hands.
They were trembling.
A golden light pulsed from his chest, unstable, violent—yet warm. It felt like a heartbeat that refused to stop even when everything else had ended.
"I didn't want this…" he whispered.
His voice echoed across nothingness.
Memories flickered through his mind—faces, smiles, promises. People who had stood beside him. People he had protected.
People who were gone.
His knees finally gave out.
A presence stirred behind him.
Not footsteps.
Not breath.
Existence itself seemed to bow.
A calm, ancient voice spoke, heavy with disappointment.
"Kindness should not have this much power."
The boy laughed weakly.
A broken, hollow sound.
"I just wanted them to live," he said. "Is that really a sin?"
Silence followed.
Then—
"You ended everything."
The golden light flared.
Pain unlike anything he had ever felt tore through his chest. Not physical pain—something deeper. As if his very being was being ripped apart.
His vision blurred.
The last thing he saw was the golden light shattering… and the darkness swallowing it whole.
He woke up gasping.
Air rushed into his lungs violently, as if his body had forgotten how to breathe.
He sat up instantly, heart pounding, sweat soaking through his clothes.
"…I'm alive?"
The ceiling above him was cracked and stained. A slow, squeaking fan spun lazily overhead.
A small, dim room.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
He looked down at his hands.
Young. Unscarred.
No blood.
No wounds.
But his chest burned.
He pressed his palm against it—and for a split second, a faint golden symbol flickered beneath his skin before vanishing.
His breath caught.
"This place…" he muttered.
Memories surfaced.
School.
This room.
This life.
The past.
He staggered to his feet, nearly tripping over himself.
"That's impossible," he said. "I died."
The world outside his window looked normal. Too normal.
Birds chirping. Cars passing. People living.
As if nothing had ever ended.
As if the universe hadn't just collapsed.
A sharp pain stabbed his head.
Fragments of memories tried to surface—faces, screams, a hand reaching out—
Then nothing.
Gone.
He clenched his fists.
"…What happened to me?"
School felt wrong.
Not dangerous.
Not hostile.
Just… cold.
People avoided him without reason. Conversations died when he walked past.
Some looked at him with disgust.
Others with fear.
As if his very existence was a mistake.
In class, the teacher paused when he entered.
"You're late," the man said flatly.
The boy checked the clock.
He wasn't.
"Detention after school," the teacher added, already turning away.
No explanation.
No discussion.
He lowered his head.
"Sorry."
The word tasted bitter.
As he sat down, whispers filled the room.
"Why is he even here?"
"He gives me a bad feeling."
"Just ignore him."
He stared at his desk, fingers gripping the edge.
Why?
What did I do?
After school, as he walked down the empty hallway, he saw a girl stumble.
Books scattered across the floor.
No one stopped.
No one cared.
He hesitated.
Something deep inside him screamed don't get involved.
But his body moved anyway.
He knelt and began picking up her books.
"Here," he said softly.
Their fingers brushed.
For an instant, the world froze.
A warm golden flicker flashed in her eyes.
She gasped, yanking her hand back.
"…What was that?" she whispered, staring at him like she'd seen a ghost.
"I—I don't know," he replied.
Her expression twisted into fear.
She grabbed her books and ran.
He stayed kneeling, staring at his hand.
His chest burned again.
That night, he couldn't sleep.
The pain in his chest kept pulling him somewhere.
Outside.
He found himself at an abandoned construction site, the air thick and heavy.
The pain intensified.
A low hum vibrated through the ground.
"Something's here…" he murmured.
He dug through rubble with bare hands, ignoring the cuts and blood.
Then he saw it.
A stone, glowing softly in the dark.
Golden.
Warm.
Alive.
The moment his fingers touched it—
Memories slammed into him.
Screams.
Stars collapsing.
Someone crying his name.
He recoiled, dropping it.
Panting.
"What are you…?"
The stone floated.
Slowly, gently—
It moved toward him and sank into his chest.
The pain vanished.
Replaced by warmth.
Silence.
Far above the city, in a place unseen by humans, a shadow watched.
"He's awakened," the shadow murmured.
Another presence responded, cold and divine.
"…This time," the voice said, "do not let him love too deeply."
The boy stood alone in the darkness, hand over his chest.
Golden light pulsed faintly beneath his skin.
Unnoticed.
Ununderstood.
Unfeared.
For now.