Chapter 1: The Ruin Begins
The city never slept, but some corners of it didn't wake up either.
Aidan Rook stood at the edge of an abandoned overpass just before midnight, staring down at a cracked stretch of concrete that once led to somewhere. Wind howled through the gaps in the rusted metal, dragging loose newspapers and cigarette ash in frantic circles. He gripped the worn strap of his backpack, knuckles white.
The city below glittered like it had secrets.
He had one now, too.
Behind him, footsteps scraped.
Three of them. Heavy boots. Leather jackets. One laughing, one coughing, one silent.
> "You lost, freak?"
Aidan turned slowly. Not because he was brave, but because it hurt to move too fast. His ribs still ached from yesterday. Another parking lot. Another 'lesson.'
He didn't answer. He already knew how this played out.
The leader—tall, neck tattoo, a nose that had been broken more than once—stepped forward.
> "Didn't you get the message, Rook? Stay in your little hole. You don't get to walk where real people do."
Aidan didn't look up.
> "I'm just passing through."
> "You're always just passing through. But the trash don't get to choose where it rots."
A second man flanked him. Aidan caught the glint of something metal in his hand. Not a knife. A pipe. Heavy enough to crack bone.
They wanted a reaction.
But something was different tonight.
He felt… off.
The air tasted like rust. His skin prickled. His heartbeat slowed, but not from fear.
Something inside him was waking up.
Then the third man—the quiet one—lunged.
Aidan didn't see the swing. He just felt the blow crack across his shoulder, and the scream of pain that burst out of him.
But it wasn't just pain.
It was power.
> Crk—sssshhhhhhtk.
The sound wasn't human. It was like the world had torn a seam.
A blast of pressure exploded from Aidan's chest, invisible and sharp. The attackers flew backward—one slammed into a metal pillar with a wet crunch, another was flung over the edge of the overpass entirely. The third lay twitching, his body steaming.
The air warped around Aidan in pulses—like heatwaves but colder. Sharper. The ground beneath his feet cracked and darkened. Stone turned brittle. Rust spread across metal like ink in water.
Aidan stared at his hands.
They were glowing at the fingertips—black veins crawling up his arms, pulsing, shifting.
> "What the hell...?"
His vision blurred. He blinked—and the world cracked.
A flicker of something in the mirror of a broken car window: not his reflection.
Glowing eyes. Skin splitting at the seams. A smile that didn't belong to him.
He staggered back, breath ragged. The pressure was still building, pushing against his skin from the inside.
Then someone clapped slowly behind him.
Aidan spun, expecting another attacker.
What he saw was worse.
A man in a long coat, soaked with something dark. Pale hair. Pale eyes. And a smile like a wolf in a burning house.
> "Beautiful," the man whispered.
"You've fractured. On instinct. Just like I did."
Aidan backed away.
> "Who... who are you?"
The man stepped forward.
> "Someone who's been waiting for a long time. Someone who sees what you are."
His eyes glinted red now. Or maybe that was the blood dripping from his collar.
> "Your name's Aidan Rook. Your Domain… is Ruin. And whether you like it or not… the world ends with you."
The man raised a hand—and the ground split beneath Aidan's feet.
Then everything went black.