Zane groaned as he pushed himself up from the cold, cracked ground. His head pounded, and his body felt strangely light, almost weightless. As he took in his surroundings, his brow furrowed. The space around him was vast, showered in moonlight from the broken moon above, and was filled with towering pillars—some floating, others broken at odd angles. In the distance, a ruined sanctuary stood in eerie silence, its once-grand structure now barely holding together.

And then, there she was.

A woman stood among the ruins, draped in an ethereal glow. Her expression was calm, but there was a flicker of something else—curiosity, maybe even concern.

Zane let out a breath, shaking off the strangeness of it all. “Well, that’s a fine start to the day,” he muttered, staring at her. “Not exactly how I thought I’d wake up, but hey, I don’t complain.”

The woman studied him for a moment before speaking. “What brings you here?”

Zane shrugged, glancing at the floating debris around them. Would you believe me if I said I took a wrong turn on my way to breakfast?”

She didn’t react at all. There was this patience in her eyes, as if she was trying to understand something beyond his words.

A flicker of something crossed Zane’s face—a shadow of a thought he couldn’t quite place. His expression darkened as an odd sensation crawled through him, something distant yet familiar, like a voice calling from the edge of his mind.

The woman noticed. “What’s wrong?”

Zane hesitated, his gaze dropping slightly. “…I can hear someone calling me.” His voice was quiet, uncertain.

She tilted her head slightly. “Someone important?”

He exhaled slowly. “…Maybe. I don’t know.” The answer didn’t sit right with him, but trying to grasp the truth was like holding onto water—it kept slipping through his fingers.

The woman studied him for a moment before asking, “Do you think she will miss you?”

Zane’s breath caught for a second. He forced a smirk, but it was weak, unconvincing. “…I hope so. I don’t want to be the one that’s forgotten.”

Silence stretched between them before she finally spoke again. “Would you like me to show you the way out?”

Zane blinked. His vision blurred slightly as a single tear slipped down his cheek. He gave a small nod.

He shook his head and forced a smirk, trying to shake off the weight settling on his chest. His gaze drifted to the ruins around them. “… What happened to this place? Looks like it’s falling apart.”

The woman’s expression softened, and she glanced toward the broken sanctuary. "The sanctuary mourns in silence. Its heartbeat faded the day its master vanished."

Zane frowned. “Wait... I thought you were in charge here?”

She turned her gaze back to him, her voice quieter now. “Long ago, the master of this place left a hero to protect it.”

She fell silent for a moment.

Zane tilted his head. “But…?”

Her expression didn’t change, but there was something in her voice—an old sorrow, a weight of the past. “Unfortunately, that hero couldn’t.”

Zane crossed his arms. “Didn’t he leave someone behind? A successor? Somebody to finish the job?”

The woman shook her head. “No.”

Zane exhaled. “Sooo… Technically, a hero is still needed, right?”

She met his eyes, calm but firm. “There hasn’t been anyone capable of wielding this power since then.”

Zane took a step forward. “What if I can help with that, i mean i can help you find someone. Unless you want to choose me?”

Her gaze lingered on him for a long moment before she spoke. “It’s not that simple, Zane.” She raised her hand and waved it with a slow, deliberate motion. Suddenly, the world around Zane cracked apart.

Zane’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait—how do you know—”

Then, the landscape shifted violently, collapsing in on itself as the surroundings transformed into something else entirely. His heart pounded as the weightlessness turned into something much heavier.

“…My name?”

Darkness swallowed him.

“…What is this place?”

The pale light of the shattered moon was swallowed by the sickly glow of a blood-red sky. The air was thick with the stench of iron and decay, the distant wails of the dying blending with the sickening crunch of bones and steel. The ground trembled beneath him; the earth itself fractured and bled.

Towering walls, slick with fresh blood, loomed over a battlefield strewn with lifeless bodies—twisted, broken, discarded like remnants of a forgotten war. Among the carnage, one warrior remained standing. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, his eyes hollow, void of everything but a cold, detached resolve.

In his arms, he held a woman dressed in white—her gown now soaked in crimson, her delicate form limp against him. The contrast was haunting. His grip on her was firm, yet his expression remained eerily still as he gazed upon her lifeless face.

Zane’s breath hitched. His pulse thundered in his ears as he tried to take a step forward, to understand, to speak—but the world around him twisted and warped, reality spiraling into chaos. The battlefield collapsed into darkness, swallowing him whole.

Zane jolted awake, gasping for breath. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he sat there, disoriented, his back pressed against the cold wooden floor. His hands trembled slightly, and for a moment, he just stared ahead, trying to make sense of where he was.

“…Was it just a dream?” He muttered, his voice hoarse.

He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his damp hair, gripping his head as a dull ache pounded behind his eyes. “Man… my head hurts.” His gaze swept across the room, taking in the mess—clothes strewn across the floor, a broken lamp on its side, open drawers with their contents spilling out like he’d torn through them in a frenzy.

“What the hell happened here…?”

Before he could process anything further, his phone’s bright screen caught his eye. He reached for it, squinting at the notifications. Six missed calls from Kimiko.

8:42 AM.

Zane blinked at the glowing numbers like they’d personally insulted him.

“…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Panic punched him in the chest. He shot up—tripped over a hoodie—and nearly slammed face-first into the floor.

“Awesome,” he muttered, dragging himself up like a corpse with a deadline. His muscles protested. His brain still felt like it had been rebooted with a hammer. But screw it—he had a class to not fail.

He yanked on whatever shirt was closest (was that toothpaste on it? No time), grabbed a mess of notebooks and random crumpled papers, stuffed them into his bag, and bolted for the door.

The universe, of course, had one more middle finger awaiting him.

The second he stepped outside, he got obliterated by rain.

Sheets of water drenched him in seconds. His shirt clung to his back like a second skin.

Zane groaned. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

He took one step forward, shoes already squishing.

“Late? Check. Rain? Check. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if lightning strikes me next.”

He took off running through the storm, muttering curses and dodging puddles like he owed them money.