Kai Verdan never woke
Kai Verdan never woke up feeling rested.
Not because his job was exhausting, or because the city was loud, or because his apartment was small enough that dust felt like a roommate—
but because every morning, the moment his eyes opened, he remembered that life was a long chain of days he didn't particularly want, yet kept walking through anyway.
He sat at the edge of his narrow bed, rubbing his face with both hands. Cold morning air seeped in through the cracked window, carrying the smell of wet asphalt. Another grey day in a grey life. He wasn't surprised.
Kai stood, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders. Average build, sharp eyes, hair always a little messy… He wasn't remarkable in any obvious way. People rarely noticed him, and he preferred it that way. Attention was exhausting.
He lived alone. He worked alone. And when he walked home, it was always alone.
Mechanical engineering wasn't glamorous. Not for him. His coworkers thought he was quiet, distant, a little too serious. They weren't wrong. But they also weren't right. Kai wasn't cold—just tired of pretending he belonged in a world where everything felt slightly off-center.
He grabbed his backpack, stepped into his shoes, and left the apartment with the practiced motion of someone who had done it thousands of times without ever feeling it.
The city streets groaned with early evening traffic. Honking cars, flickering streetlights, distant chatter of people heading home or heading anywhere at all. Everyone had a direction.
Kai didn't.
He walked on autopilot, hands in pockets, observing the world as if it were behind glass. Men and women laughing with coworkers, someone talking loudly on the phone, the smell of grilled food from a roadside stall… Life everywhere, vibrant and messy.
And none of it touched him.
Kai crossed the street, passing a mother and her young son waiting for the signal. The boy was holding a cheap toy robot, pressing buttons with excitement. The mother smiled down at him with tired affection.
Kai's gaze lingered on them for a moment longer than usual.
Nice, he thought. Someone gets to go home to that.
He didn't envy them. Envy required wanting something, and desire was a muscle he hadn't exercised in years.
The pedestrian signal turned green. People stepped off the curb.
Kai walked forward, lost in the quiet hum of his own thoughts.
Then—
A sharp metallic screech tore through the air.
A sound that didn't belong.
Kai's head snapped to the right.
A car—no, a blur of steel and headlights—was skidding sideways down the road, tires screaming against the asphalt. The driver had lost control. People yelled. Someone dropped their grocery bags.
Through the chaos, one thing became clear:
The little boy from before had wandered off the curb, chasing his toy robot that had fallen from his grip.
The mother screamed.
The car was coming straight for him.
And the world slowed.
Not because of courage. Not because of heroism.
Simply because Kai didn't think. His body moved before the thought existed.
One moment he was on the sidewalk; the next he was sprinting, pushing through startled pedestrians. The boy lifted his head, eyes wide.
Kai tackled him, shoving the child out of the car's path.
There was a strangled cry—a mother calling her son's name. The boy rolled safely onto the concrete.
Kai didn't.
He heard the impact before he felt it.
A violent, bone-crushing collision slammed into him, sending him into the cold air before the world flipped upside down. Pain burst through his body, sharp, overwhelming, then strangely distant. His vision blurred—lights stretching into long streaks of white.
He hit the ground.
Once.
Twice.
Then everything stopped.
The noise faded. The cold seeped in. And Kai felt… weightless.
His breath came shallow. Metallic warmth spread under his cheek—blood. He knew enough about physics to know the angle he hit the ground shouldn't have allowed survival.
So this is it.
He wasn't afraid.
He wasn't even surprised
His last memory was the sound of a child crying and a woman sobbing with relief.
A small, ironic smile tugged at his lips.
"Guess… that's fine," he whispered.
Darkness folded around him like a closing curtain.
Kai expected nothingness.
Instead, he opened his eyes to everything.
A vast, endless expanse stretched in all directions—an ocean of swirling mist illuminated by shifting colors. Blues, purples, silvers… like the auroras had been shattered and scattered across the void. Gravity didn't exist here. Sound didn't exist. Even breathing felt unnecessary.
Kai floated.
Alive, dead, or something in between.
His thoughts were unusually clear—crisp, sharp, almost louder than the silence around him.
A presence stirred.
Not a creature. Not a god. Something more abstract. The mist gathered, shaping itself into a towering figure made of light and shadow, impossible to fully understand. Its face was obscured, its form constantly shifting—sometimes human, sometimes liquid, sometimes a constellation of stars.
When it spoke, its voice was neither male nor female—only… ancient.
"Soul detected."
Kai blinked. "Right. I guess that's me."
The figure rippled, observing him.
"Designation: Kai Verdan. Status: deceased. Cause: sacrifice."
Kai exhaled slowly. He wasn't sure if it counted as breathing.
"So… this is the afterlife?"
"This is the Nexus of Reincarnation. The flow of all mortal souls passes through here."
The shifting lights around him pulsed in rhythm with the entity's voice.
Kai's gaze drifted across the endless expanse.
Fitting. Even in death, he ended up somewhere quiet and empty.
"So… what now?" he asked, voice steady.
"Normally, your soul would proceed to the next cycle. However…"
The air trembled.
The mist around them flickered violently, twisting, tearing, merging again. Something was wrong—deeply wrong.
Kai felt it too. A strange pressure tugged at his core, stretching him in two different directions—like invisible chains pulling him apart.
"Hey—what is—"
"An anomaly," the figure said. Its tone remained calm, but the world beneath them shuddered.
"Two divergent worldstreams have created simultaneous resonance with your soul."
Kai frowned. "Meaning…?"
"Your essence is being claimed by two destinies."
A crack split the space below him.
Light surged.
Pain shot through Kai's being—like his very existence was being torn in half.
He clenched his teeth, expression grim. "Tch—figures. Even dying doesn't go smoothly for me."
The entity extended a hand—rippling, unstable.
"Your soul cannot choose. Thus… it will be split."
Kai's heart—or whatever passed for one now—dropped.
The pressure intensified. The world vibrated violently.
Kai's vision fractured.
"There's no fixing this?" he asked quietly.
His consciousness flickered.
The last thing he heard was the voice…
"Prepare, Kai Verdan. Your dual existence begins now."
And then—
The void swallowed him whole.
Two worlds pulled him in opposite directions.
And Kai—
Kai fell.