Mavis sat on the floor of his room, staring blankly at the ticking clock on the wall. Each second seemed impossibly loud, echoing in his mind.
"Did I… collapse last night?" he whispered.
Slowly, he pushed himself up, his body feeling strangely heavier than it should. The fragments of a dream clung to his mind like fog—faces, voices, a sky that wasn't his own.
His hand moved to his chest.
"Something feels… odd."
A knock echoed through the room.
"Hey! It's time for school! Aren't you getting up?" his mother called from the other side of the door.
"Ah—just a few minutes, Mom," Mavis replied quickly, his voice cracking slightly.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a hand to his forehead. His breathing was shallow, uneven.
"What's going on with me…" he exhaled shakily, realizing the breath didn't feel entirely his own. The heaviness in his body and the lingering unease gnawed at him like a living thing.
---
EarthX231
In a sterile hospital room, the doctor stepped back from the bed, letting out a long sigh.
"…He's gone."
Reiman lowered his head, sadness pressing down like a weight. Quietly, he picked up Renjiro's phone, intending to call his father.
But before he could dial, a rustling sound came from the bed.
Renjiro's eyes shot open.
The neighbors and friends gathered to mourn froze in disbelief. Gasps tore through the room as Renjiro snatched the phone from Reiman's hands.
"What the hell is going on here?!" he shouted.
The doctor stumbled backward, eyes wide.
"A miracle… He isn't dead! How—why?!"
A neighbor whispered, pale with horror, "Wasn't he… supposed to be dead?"
Renjiro's friends hurriedly pushed everyone out, slamming the door behind them. Reiman stepped forward, voice trembling.
"Renjiro… are you alright?"
Renjiro didn't answer. His mind remained trapped in the same strange dream Mavis had seen—the pulse, the shadows, the overwhelming emptiness stretching across realities.
---
Ethoropia
Beneath the scorching sands, Roven buried under the earth clawed his way up, skin covered in dust.
The people around screamed, calling him an evil spirit, striking him in panic. Fear ignited violence, but it didn't harm him. His broken leg healed as if it had never been broken. Torn flesh knitted together. Wounds vanished.
He stood, alive, whole—but something was wrong. His heartbeat felt different—foreign, alien.
Across worlds, something had stirred that night. Something impossible.
It wasn't just Renjiro, Roven, or Mavis. Six awakened simultaneously, each haunted by the same dream, the same pulse resonating across dimensions.
---
The Black Sea World
Somewhere far away, a world of endless shadows and black seas stretched beyond sight. On a high balcony, a man in a black suit stood, his presence chilling, silent, predatory. A legend of assassins, a ghost of death in human form.
Behind him, a man who exuded calm menace approached—the seer. His eyes were sharp, calculating, intelligent. Not old. Not frail. Cool, composed, a side antagonist whose aura alone made the air around him tense.
"It's time," the seer said, his voice cutting through the cold wind. "The dealer has changed."
The assassin didn't turn. "Oh?"
"If we let this go… even your death cannot be prevented," the seer warned.
The assassin's expression remained cold, unreadable. "It avoided us for two hundred years. Amusing."
"This is our last chance," the seer pressed, tone even, yet edged with lethal intent. "We do not have time left."
The assassin's voice was a whisper, calm yet deadly. "I see".
"What will you do now?"The seer asked
"Call Damen," the assassin replied. His words dripped with authority, a quiet threat. "Our time has come."
A low, sinister laugh followed, rolling across the black sea like distant thunder.
---
The Vanishing Castle
Far away, hidden between layers of reality, Makio sat at a long, ancient table. Across from him was a dark figure, its form twisting like smoke, neither man nor beast.
"Let's begin," Makio said calmly, voice measured. "You know why I'm here."
The figure chuckled. "Malakar?"
"His death might trigger chaos… but right now, I want to know—where is the Red Core?"
"So you plan to abandon the six chosen cores?" the figure asked, voice echoing softly.
Makio shook his head. "I cannot intervene in what fate has set… but this—"
His eyes narrowed, expression hardening.
"Why did you kill Fujimoto?"
The figure smiled, wickedly casual. "Curious?"
"Why did you?"
"It's fate," the figure replied, almost lazily.
Makio slammed his hand against the table. The sound reverberated through the hall.
"Don't hide behind fate! We are already being hunted!"
The figure let out a short, mocking gasp, its presence unnerving in its calmness.
Makio's voice darkened. "And why are you secretly hunting the non-chosen core handlers?"
Silence.
"To create more chaos?" he pressed.
Still no answer.
Makio's patience thinned. "I asked you something. Speak!"
"You have your answer," the figure said. "So,you may leave."
Makio stood, cloak brushing the cold stone floor, but paused at the doorway.
"One last question… What did you find in that scroll?"
The figure's laughter echoed, loud, twisted, unhinged. Smoke and haze swirled around the table, then vanished. The dark figure disappeared, leaving nothing. The lights flickered, then died.
Makio stepped outside, eyes scanning the horizon. A chill bit at his face. His disappointment was clear—controlled, unreadable—but beneath it lay restrained fury.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the castle itself dissolved. Walls folded into nothingness. Stones vanished. Even the air seemed to evaporate. The castle had ceased to exist, leaving only Makio standing amidst emptiness, the faint echo of what had been lingering like a ghost.
Makio paused. The wind whispered through nothingness. And then he walked forward, each step deliberate. The ripple of fate had begun.
---
Six awakened. Across worlds, their hearts pulsed with the same signal. Threads of destiny intertwined, invisible yet binding. And Noone had any idea but the storm had already begun, moving silently, inevitably.
The pulse continued to spread, a quiet hum across dimensions—a ripple in the fabric of reality that none could ignore. Somewhere, something waited. Patient. Watching. Hungry. And when it struck… the worlds themselves would tremble.
---