Darkness.
Not the dim, gentle darkness of night, but an absolute void—one that devoured light itself. It stretched endlessly, suffocating, silent, and infinite. Within that abyss, a body fell—human in shape, yet strangely distant, as if something essential had already been torn away.
Noah's body plunged downward without resistance, as though gravity had claimed him as prey. His teeth ground together, a dry, broken sound escaping—"Khukhh." The noise was swallowed instantly, leaving him alone with the endless fall and the suffocating weight of nothingness.
His mind clung desperately to a single moment—the push. That instant replayed again and again as he tried to recall the one who had sent him here. A face, a presence—anything. But all he could grasp was emptiness.
He remembered only a hand.
At that moment, his head had been turned away, denying him even a glimpse of the one behind him. But he knew. Deep within, he knew—it wasn't accidental. There had been no hesitation, no warning. That push had been deliberate. Cold. Intentional.
Just seconds before, he had been fighting an Abyssal monster—something that should not have existed. The battle had consumed everything—focus, strength, survival. And then, without warning, that unseen hand had ended it all with a single, decisive shove.
Noah shut his eyes tightly, forcing his thoughts inward, trying to reconstruct the sensation. Was the hand rough? Armored? Warm? Cold? He tried to feel it again—but nothing came. Not even a trace. It was as if the memory itself had been erased.
A faint frown formed on his face as he struggled further—but suddenly, the fall stopped.
His body struck something solid. Not ground… no. It was stranger than that. The very space itself had hardened, forming an invisible surface beneath him, unnatural and silent.
Slowly, he pushed himself upright.
A low growl cut through the void—"GRRR."
His head lifted, eyes narrowing into the darkness. Then he saw them. Red eyes. Countless. As his perception stretched outward, the truth unfolded—thousands… no, millions of Abyssal monsters surrounded him from every direction.
They stared at him like predators circling wounded prey.
And he was prey. Without a doubt.
He had barely survived a single one before. Now, an endless swarm stood before him. His throat went dry as a single thought surfaced, raw and unfiltered—
'Fuck…'
Sweat gathered on his forehead, sliding down slowly before dropping into the void-like ground.
The moment it touched—
They moved.
The Abyssal monsters surged forward all at once, their grotesque bodies twisting unnaturally. Their maws opened wide like sandworms, rows of jagged teeth glistening as hunger exploded into motion.
Run.
His instincts screamed it.
Run. Fight. Survive.
But his legs didn't move.
Fear rooted him in place, locking his body as if shackled by invisible chains. Strength drained from him instantly. His knees buckled, crashing against the unseen ground as control slipped completely away.
The first monster reached him.
It didn't kill him.
Instead, it tore into his shoulder, ripping flesh away violently. Pain exploded through his body like fire tearing through his nerves.
"AGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!"
His scream shattered the silence, raw and primal, echoing endlessly through the abyss.
Another came immediately from the other side.
It devoured the flesh of his left shoulder without hesitation.
"AGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The agony doubled, then multiplied, consuming not just his body—but his sanity itself.
Time lost all meaning.
Seconds stretched into eternity as his screams echoed again and again, blending into one continuous cry. Pain became his world. His identity. His existence. There was nothing else—only the endless consumption of his body.
Piece by piece… he was eaten alive.
Eventually, even that began to fade.
At the edge of death, his body lay collapsed—stripped of flesh, reduced to bare bone. Only fragments of his face remained intact, his eyes bulging outward, lifeless and hollow, resembling something no longer human.
Through his fading vision, he saw them retreat.
The Abyssal monsters slowly pulled away, leaving him behind.
Alive.
It was intentional.
They had chosen not to kill him—forcing him to endure until the very end, denying him even the mercy of death.
His body had already surrendered.
But his mind… refused.
Through the endless agony, one thought burned brighter than everything else, repeating, sharpening, engraving itself into his very soul—
'I will kill him.'
'Whoever he is… he will pay.'
Kill. Kill. KILL!
His consciousness began to crumble.
Thoughts blurred, breaking apart into fragments as darkness closed in once more.
I-If I ever get… the chanc—
The words never finished.
His final breath escaped.
And then—
Silence.
Far above the abyss, something stood.
A being, wrapped in distorted space, watched from beyond perception. Its form could not be seen, as if reality itself refused to define it. In its hand floated a dim purple globe, pulsing faintly.
As Noah's life faded—
The glow vanished.
A slow, twisted smile formed.
"Finally… that damned 'Threat' is dead," a metallic voice echoed, cold and distorted. "Such a pity… I wished to hear him scream a little longer. Still… this will do."
A low chuckle followed.
"I should report this good news… huhuhuhu."
And with that—
It disappeared.
Yet Noah did not truly end.
His consciousness drifted, untethered, as though something deeper than fate itself rejected his death. Then suddenly—a surge of blinding light erupted, pulling him toward glowing threads that wove through existence itself.
And then—
Earth.
Mexico.
In a quiet apartment, a man lay asleep on his bed, breathing steadily.
In.
Out.
In—
"Gasp!"
He shot upright violently, clutching at the air as his chest heaved uncontrollably.
"Huff… Huff… Huff…"
Pain throbbed through his head as memories crashed back all at once—the abyss, the monsters, the screams… and that hand.
His eyes darted around wildly.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
Fear.
Then recognition.
This room—
It was his.
His breath caught as he looked around more carefully. Every detail was familiar. Unchanged. But that was impossible.
He had died.
He was certain of it.
Then why… was he here?
Questions flooded his mind, crashing into each other without answers. Frustration built as he reached for the phone lying at the edge of his bed, his fingers slightly trembling.
The screen lit up.
And his breath stopped.
26th June, 2010.
The date burned into his vision.
The day before the disaster.
The day before the world changed forever.
The day before the era of superhumans… and Talent began.
His eyes widened slowly.
One thought surfaced, clear and sharp—
Regression…?
He had read enough novels during his college days to understand what this meant. This wasn't coincidence. This wasn't a dream.
This was real.
Slowly, he stood up from the bed, his movements unsteady. He checked the internet—news, events, timelines. Everything matched perfectly with his memories, down to the smallest detail.
No doubt remained.
This was reality.
He exhaled slowly, tossing the phone onto the bed.
"…So this is real, huh?"
His voice was quiet, uncertain, almost distant.
"But… it still feels hard to believe."
Then—
His thoughts shifted.
The meteor.
The first superhuman.
His talent.
And finally—
That push.
Something inside him snapped.
Kill him…
I will kill him…
Veins bulged across his forehead as his jaw tightened, teeth grinding violently. Rage surged uncontrollably, drowning everything else, consuming reason itself.
I WILL KILL HIM!
He froze.
Then forced himself to breathe.
"Hoooh…"
"Calm down…"
His chest rose and fell as he steadied himself, dragging his mind back under control through sheer force.
"If this is real… if I truly regressed…"
His eyes sharpened.
"…then revenge will come."
A pause.
"But first…"
"Moscow."
The word left his lips slowly.
"According to my memory, the 'Origin Classifier' will fall within twenty-four hours. Half the city will be destroyed…"
His gaze hardened.
"…but if I reach it first… if I touch it…"
His voice trailed off, anticipation rising within him like a quiet storm.
Thousands would die.
He knew that.
But he felt nothing.
Not cruelty—
Just emptiness.
That abyss had frozen something deep within him, leaving behind only purpose.
Without hesitation, he grabbed his phone again.
Flights.
Transport.
Hotel.
Every step calculated, precise, efficient.
Within minutes, everything was set.
Silence filled the room once more.
Then—
A slow, manic smile spread across his face.
"Alright…"
"…everything is ready."
His eyes gleamed faintly, something dark stirring within them.
"Now…"
"…let's wait and see when the meteor hits…"
"…and lights up the entire world in rainbow colors."