Nick never imagined a chance encounter on a dark, rain-soaked street would unravel everything he thought he knew about life.
He was tall—exactly the kind of man people called perfect. The kind whose every step seemed destined for success. Expectations weighed on him like a storm cloud ready to burst. He'd graduated from the prestigious Luminary Academy and landed a coveted position at one of the world's most powerful companies: Resonance. On paper, Nick had everything anyone could want.
But beneath the surface, Nick was hollow.
No amount of money, praise, or accomplishment could fill the gnawing emptiness inside him. Pride and excitement slipped through his fingers like grains of fine sand. The only places where he felt something close to solace were in anime and web novels—stories whispering a truth he dared not admit: money could buy comfort, but not happiness.
One cold, mist-shrouded morning, as he trudged his usual path to work, Nick noticed a figure kneeling by the curb. The fog hung thick, carrying the damp smell of concrete and exhaust fumes. The man looked worn and broken, clothes soaked and tattered, grime etched into every crease. Yet, in those eyes, something flickered—an unnerving fire burning beneath layers of despair.
Something was off. Beneath the desperation, Nick sensed a sharp mind—a predator playing psychological games, twisting emotions like a weapon.
Strangely, the man looked… capable.
Nick hesitated, feeling the chill seep through his coat, but curiosity tugged him closer. "Want a job?" he asked quietly.
The man's eyes sparked with a wild, fevered light—hope and madness tangled in a grin. "A good seed!" he exclaimed. "I don't want a job. No—I can give you what you really want, buried deep in your soul."
Before Nick could respond, the world spun violently. The rain, the street, the cold—they all dissolved into black.
Why did it come to this? Nick's mind raced even as his body was helpless, caught in this void between life and death. All those years grinding away—school, work, climbing ladders—only to feel this yawning emptiness inside. Had he been chasing a dream that was never his? He had always played the role expected of him—the perfect son, the top student, the rising star. But what did he want? Did he even know anymore? He had hidden behind a mask of smiles and success, pretending the hollow ache didn't exist. Now, faced with the silence of nothingness, that emptiness screamed loudest.
Maybe this is a chance. A reset. A chance to be someone else. Someone... freer. A twisted part of him felt a spark of excitement—strange, forbidden. What if he didn't have to be the hero or the good guy? What if he could embrace the darkness, the chaos he'd always feared? The villain. The breaker of rules. The one who didn't have to pretend.
Fear gnawed at him, but beneath it, a dark thrill took root. Maybe being a villain wasn't a curse. Maybe it was power.
When he awoke, he was weightless—adrift in a void of impossible colors, shimmering and rippling like liquid glass. Icy whispers brushed against his skin, haunting and ethereal.
In the center of the void floated a glowing plaque, inscribed with symbols he couldn't read but somehow understood. It bore one phrase: Fool's Treasury.
His heart thundered. Was this death? Some cruel limbo?
His body felt distant—an empty vessel—but his soul remained sharp, alert, terrified.
Then silence shattered.
Eight figures emerged—majestic, terrifying gods who twisted the very air around them.
Among them, the beggar from the street no longer seemed broken. Cloaked in flowing black robes, he wielded a massive scythe, his eyes burning cold and fierce.
He stood alone against immortals.
With one sweeping strike, the scythe cleaved through three ancient women—the Ladies of Fate—who had appeared beside the gods. Their anguished cries shattered like glass.
"The Ladies of Fate must fall first," the man growled, voice like grinding stone.
The golden-haired god stepped forward, eyes molten gold and night. "You cannot rewrite destiny," he thundered. "Your defiance will be your end."
Steel clashed with shadow. Their battle sent ripples through reality, warping time and space itself. Sparks crackled in the heavy air.
Nick's heart pounded. Fear gnawed at him, but so did a fierce thrill.
This was no ordinary beggar.
This was something else—dangerous.
Energy pulsed around him, stirring something deep inside.
His old life—hollow, boring—felt like a distant dream.
The gods and the man in black fought with ruthless grace, but then—
A spear pierced the beggar's back. He froze, shock flooding his eyes.
"You're the one I trusted most… Ezekiel," he gasped, voice trembling. "How could you betray me?"
Nick's breath caught. This wasn't just a fight; it was a war woven into the fabric of existence. Who were these beings? Why was he here? Dead? No. There had to be a reason—a way out. But how do you survive when gods tear reality apart? Dread clawed at him, yet a stubborn spark of defiance flared within.
From the shadows stepped an androgynous figure, feathered wings shimmering faintly, eyes deep as the ocean. "I don't care if you're evil," the being said coldly, "but stealing from the omniverse itself is unforgivable. You lack the strength to back it up. Pathetic. Two gods were enough to bring you down."
Three giggling figures appeared—Goddesses of Fate. "Did you really think you could win?" they taunted. "We have decreed your fate. We always win. Remember us in your next life."
Ezekiel pulled the spear free. Dark blood spread like a river through time—unstoppable and vast.
"Selene, restoration, please," he croaked.
A vision of serene power appeared—a celestial beauty with silver hair and emerald eyes that glowed with quiet radiance. Her aura was not fearsome, but deeply revered, embodying the delicate weave of time itself.
A young man, no older than twenty, stepped forward. "What do we do with this mortal? He survived the impossible. Watching this battle was a feat beyond comprehension. He's why we caught the fool."
The golden-haired god grinned, savage and proud. "He deserves a reward."