Ren Saiga stood before two colossal doors, each radiating power like gods locked behind steel.
One blazed with fierce red fire—flames that danced without heat, daring him to touch.The other was drowned in a suffocating gray mist, the kind that clung to skin and whispered rot.
Between them stood a figure.
The Grim Reaper.
Tall. Silent. Cloaked in shadow. His black robe fluttered despite the stillness, like the void itself breathed around him.
There was no ground, no sky, no horizon—just darkness stretching forever. A place outside time. No up, no down. No heartbeat but Ren's.
And even that was starting to fade.
Where the hell am I?No answer.
He reached out—nothing. Moved—nowhere. His body floated, weightless, hollowed out by something deeper than fear.
Whispers circled him. Half-formed memories. Faces. Names. Pain.
Things he couldn't grab.
Things he didn't want to forget.
A pressure crushed his chest. Not physical—but something worse. Like his own soul folding inward.
Then—A pulse.
Dim, but steady. Like a heartbeat, far away.
He moved toward it, instinct over logic. The darkness cracked open with light—and the doors appeared, looming like titans. Fire on one side. Mist on the other.
And the Reaper stood waiting.
His face was shadow. His eyes were bottomless pits—ancient, hollow, watching.
Ren's heart sank.
Is this it? My afterlife?
The Reaper raised a hand, palm up.
"Choose."
Ren didn't move. He just stared.
Silence stretched, thick as concrete.
Sweat ran down his face. His hands shook. But beneath the fear—something sharp. Not hope. Not courage.
Defiance.
"No."
The Reaper tilted his head.
"No?" he echoed.
"I won't pick," Ren said. "You're faking a choice. Both doors end in pain. You want me to pick my poison and think it was mine."
The Reaper didn't reply. Just watched.
Ren stepped back, eyes scanning the space.
Cracks. Glitches. Rules.
This place has a system. That means it can break.
"Why even offer me a choice?" he snapped. "If you're death, why not just end it?"
The air shifted.
Ren grinned.
"You can't. You're bound by something. Balance. Order. You need me to choose—so you don't have to force it."
He pulled a small silver marble from his pocket. His last trick.
He dropped it.
KHAAAK.
White light exploded outward—blinding, silent. A crack tore across the void like broken glass.
"I've lived in cages," Ren said, voice rising. "And I've broken out of every one."
He snapped the bloodstained string on his wrist.
Code shattered in the air. The world trembled.
The Reaper raised a hand to stop it. Too slow.
Ren lunged for the crack.
"I OVERRIDE THIS!"
Time stopped.
SYSTEM UPDATENew Protocol Established: Override ExecutionerAccess Granted: SAIGA, RENReality Reversion In Progress…
The Reaper reappeared, pixels glitching around him.
"So this is your power," he said. "To cheat death."
Ren stood firm, still panting.
"You said this world runs on pain. Fine. I'll make a deal."
The Reaper raised a brow."A deal?"
"I return," Ren said. "In exchange, I kill the corrupted. People who deserve it. You get balance. I get my life."
A long silence.
Then—A cold laugh.
"You want a deal with death itself?" the Reaper said. "You play with your soul like it's a toy."
"I'm not scared," Ren said. "I've already died once."
A long pause.
Then the Reaper's skeletal hand stretched out."So be it, Saiga Ren. You may return. But if you stray or fail, I will come for you again."
Ren took his hand.
The world folded.
KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK
Ren gasped—
—and awoke in his own bed.
In front of him there was a frame in his walls that he had not seen before.
In the frame, there was text written-
🜏 OVERRIDE SYSTEM ACTIVATED 🜏
ユーザー[User: SAIGA, REN]芯 CORE STATUS: NULL
危険 OVERRIDE TRIGGERED
死 DEATH PATH: BLOCKED現実 REALITY: SHIFTED
魂 SOUL UNLOCK: 7%🜏 OVERRIDE COMPLETE 🜏
I don't get it…What did I do?
Ren sat there, breath ragged, heart thundering in his chest like a war drum. His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the glowing frame in the wall—the words still etched in searing digital fire.
I didn't open that crack… I didn't even know I could. I just… said no.
Images flashed in his mind—the burning door, the freezing mist, the Reaper's eyes like hollow stars, and that impossible choice. And yet…
I never chose either. I rejected the rules.
His fists clenched. The pressure in his chest surged—not fear, but something louder. Something wilder.
A part of me moved before I even knew what I was doing.Like instinct... no—like destiny.
He stood abruptly, stumbling a bit. The floor beneath him was solid, warm. He was back in his room. The scent of dust. The sound of birds outside. The ticking of a clock.
All real. All wrong.
"This can't be real," he whispered. "I… died. Didn't I?"
He turned to the mirror on his wall. His reflection stared back—same sharp eyes, same messy hair, same scar over his collarbone. But something in those eyes was different now.
Colder. Clearer. Sharper.
A storm was building behind them.
Ren's breath hitched. Then, slowly, a grin tugged at his lips—not one of joy, but something rawer. He went downstairs to check on his parents, if his mother had succeded in coming back to life.
There, on the worn couch bathed in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon, his parents sat closer than Ren had ever seen them. The world outside the window seemed to pause, holding its breath for this moment.
His mother's laughter was a delicate melody, light and pure, like a breeze stirring cherry blossoms. Her eyes sparkled with warmth and joy—an unspoken promise of love renewed. His father's gaze was slow and deep, charged with something rare and fierce. It wasn't just relief to see her again; it was desire, burning bright after years of silence.
Ren's breath caught in his throat as he watched. His mother reached out, fingers trembling slightly, to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his father's ear—a touch so gentle it spoke of endless tenderness and devotion. His father's hand moved with a possessive grace, curling around her waist, pulling her near as if he never wanted to let her go again.
Their eyes met, and in them blazed a storm—passion, longing, and relief crashing together like a fierce tide. The room seemed to pulse with their energy, the air thick with unspoken words and years of waiting.
"I do not know you-but yet, you're so mysterious" she giggled
"Stop playing with me! Don't bother joking now" he replied.
Then, their lips met. Soft at first, tentative as if testing the reality of this reunion. But quickly, the kiss deepened—hungry, fierce, desperate to reclaim lost time. His mother's hands rose, framing his father's face, her body pressing against his with a burning need. His father responded in kind, pulling her impossibly close, their embrace a blazing fire on the frayed couch.
Ren's voice broke the spell, trembling and raw."Mom… Dad?"
They pulled apart slowly, breaths heavy and eyes wide with surprise and joy. His father smiled, voice thick with emotion:"Ren?"
His mother's smile was gentle, soft as a lullaby."Are you okay?"
Tears pricked at the corners of Ren's eyes, and before he could hold them back, his knees gave way. He sank to the floor, overwhelmed—this was real. They were real. Alive.
But hours later, the warmth began to unravel.
In the kitchen, the soft hum of the night wrapped the small room. His mother stood by the sink, washing dishes in silence, the only sound her quiet humming—an unfamiliar tune, slow and haunting.
Ren stepped forward, voice small."Can I help?"
She turned slowly, eyes meeting his with a softness that didn't reach their depths."You want to help?"
He nodded, voice barely a whisper."I just… want to be with you."
Her smile flickered—too quick to be real. She knelt beside him, her hand gliding through his hair like a shadow brushing over stone."Ok, taste this food I made, it's croquembouche."
Ren started eating it and suddenly his heart slammed against his chest."This... isn't how you cook. You always made this for my birthday. It tasted—good. This…"He looked at the crumbling mass, heart freezing."You're not her."
Her eyes were no longer warm or alive. They were empty, pale like frozen glass, reflecting a void deeper than death itself.
Her lips curled into a slow, hollow smile—too wide, too sharp.
"Oh, Ren," she said softly, voice smooth as silk but laced with something razor-sharp beneath."You remember well... too well."
She tilted her head, eyes glazing over, black pools swallowing the light."But memories are fragile things. So easy to… rewrite."
Her smile faded into something darker, colder."You wanted her back. I am what you called forth."
The air grew heavy, pressing in on him like ice."Tell me, Ren—what are you willing to sacrifice to keep this 'her' alive?"
But she was abruptly cut off by the sound of footsteps. His father stepped into the kitchen. The sight that should have been a balm to Ren's soul twisted into a nightmare. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips—slow, deliberate, and utterly devoid of love. It was a hollow ritual, a chilling echo of the passion Ren had seen before, but soulless, mechanical.
Ren stumbled back, his breath catching in a cold panic. The woman before him wore his mother's face—her body—but inside,something strange dwelled.
A voice echoed in his mind, cold and clinical:
[Soul-Core Detected]
体 BODY: Maternal Host
魂 SOUL: "Unknown" – ENTITY UNKNOWN
腐敗CORRUPTION: INDETERMINATE🜏 OVERRIDE: PENDING
The Core had brought him back from the edge of death—but it had not brought back what was truly his.
The humming twisted, warped into a low, haunting drone that filled the kitchen with cold shadows. The light flickered violently, casting grotesque shapes against the walls.
Ren's hands trembled uncontrollably. His mind screamed in silent horror.
This was no homecoming.
This was a prison.