ANTI-HERO FROM HELL: REBORN
Chapter 7 — The First Door
They hid in a place the system pretended didn't exist.
Crowe led Jack through a maze of half-collapsed streets and derelict warehouses until the city lights thinned and the skyline turned into jagged silhouettes. The district was old—pre-gate old—built back when no one expected monsters to fall from the sky.
"This is a dead zone," Crowe said as they slipped through a rusted steel door into an underground passage. "No registered gates. No surveillance. No high-rank patrols."
Jack leaned against the wall, fighting to stay upright. Every muscle screamed. The ache in his chest was deep and constant now, like something had hollowed him out and left him stitched together with pain.
"Why isn't it on the maps?" Jack asked.
Crowe glanced back. "Because the system didn't build it."
They descended into darkness.
The passage opened into a cavernous space beneath the city—a forgotten station, flooded with dim yellow light from hanging bulbs strung between pillars. Makeshift stalls lined the walls, selling everything from mana crystals to illegal relics. Hunters moved through the space, some scarred, some heavily armed, all wary.
Jack stared.
"This is where people go when they don't want to be found," Crowe said. "The underground."
Eyes followed them as they passed.
Not with curiosity.
With hunger.
Jack could feel it now—the way his presence made the air subtly wrong. Hunters turned their heads too fast. Some flinched without knowing why.
The voice inside him whispered.
"They sense you."
Jack swallowed.
Crowe stopped near a sealed metal door marked with faded warning sigils.
"This is safe," Crowe said. "For now."
He keyed in a code and ushered Jack inside.
The room beyond was small and dim, lit by a single hanging lamp. Crates were stacked against the walls. A narrow cot sat in one corner.
Jack sank onto it, breathing hard.
Crowe watched him for a long moment.
"You're not just injured," Crowe said. "You're… unstable."
Jack forced a weak smile. "That's one way to put it."
Crowe crouched in front of him. "When you used that power back there, what did it feel like?"
Jack hesitated.
The voice was quiet, listening.
"Like something opened inside me," Jack said slowly. "Like… like I wasn't in my body alone."
Crowe nodded grimly. "That's what I was afraid of."
Jack met his eyes. "You know what this is, don't you?"
Crowe didn't answer.
Because he didn't have to.
The air shifted.
Jack felt it before he heard it—the pressure in his chest, the cold behind his eyes.
"You are safe enough now," the voice said.
Jack flinched. "Stop."
Crowe stiffened. "You hear it again."
Jack nodded.
"Let it speak," Crowe said quietly.
Jack's heart pounded. "You're sure?"
"No," Crowe replied. "But I'd rather know what's killing us."
The voice was amused.
"Such bravery."
Jack closed his eyes.
"What do you want?" Jack whispered.
"To teach you."
Crowe leaned forward. "Teach him what?"
"How to open the door," the voice replied.
Jack's skin prickled. "What door?"
"The one inside you."
Crowe's jaw tightened. "And what happens when it's open?"
A pause.
"Power."
Jack laughed weakly. "That's not an answer."
"Survival is an answer."
Crowe shook his head. "And the price?"
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"Change."
Jack's stomach twisted. "Change into what?"
"Into something that does not die when the world decides you should."
Silence filled the room.
Crowe looked at Jack. "You don't have to do this."
Jack stared at his hands. They were still shaking.
"I'm already doing it," he said quietly. "Aren't I?"
The voice purred.
"You have already said yes once."
Jack swallowed. "What happens if I say it again?"
"Then you will stop being helpless."
Crowe's eyes darkened. "And you'll start being something else."
Jack looked between them—the man who had risked everything to save him, and the thing that had kept him alive.
"Show me," Jack said.
Crowe's breath caught. "Jack—"
"Show me how," Jack repeated, voice firmer now.
The voice smiled.
"Close your eyes."
Jack did.
The darkness behind his eyelids wasn't empty.
It was deep.
"Feel the place where the world ends inside you," the voice whispered.
"Feel the edge."
Jack's chest tightened.
A cold sensation spread through him.
"Now… push."
Something shifted.
Not violently.
Deliberately.
Like a door creaking open.
Jack gasped as a thin line of red light cut across his vision.
Crowe felt it too—the sudden drop in pressure, the way the room seemed to lean.
"Jack," Crowe warned.
Jack opened his eyes.
For the first time, he wasn't afraid of the power.
He was holding it.
And that terrified him more than anything.
The room felt smaller.
Jack could swear the walls had moved closer, though nothing had physically changed. The hanging lamp flickered, casting warped shadows that bent at strange angles. Crowe stood rigid near the door, eyes fixed on Jack as if he were watching a bomb that had just started ticking.
Jack's hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From something else.
From the pressure inside him — the place where the world ended.
"What did you do?" Crowe asked quietly.
Jack swallowed. "I… I don't know. It's like—" He pressed a hand against his chest. "It's like there's a thin place inside me now. Like reality's stretched."
The voice hummed softly.
"You have found the seam."
Crowe took a cautious step closer. "Can you close it?"
Jack tried.
Nothing happened.
The pressure stayed.
Crowe's jaw tightened. "That's bad."
Jack managed a weak smile. "You're very reassuring."
A loud crash echoed from somewhere outside the room.
Voices followed — angry, hurried.
Crowe spun toward the door. "They're close."
Jack's heart jumped. "Already?"
Crowe nodded. "High ranks move fast when something scares them."
The voice whispered eagerly.
"A test."
Jack's stomach twisted. "No."
"A necessity."
Another crash, closer this time. The metal door shuddered as something slammed into it.
Crowe looked back at Jack. "If they break in here, they won't arrest you. They'll erase you."
Jack clenched his fists. "Then what do I do?"
Crowe hesitated.
"Whatever that thing taught you," he said. "You might have to use it."
Jack's breath caught.
The door dented inward.
The air filled with the hum of gathering mana.
Jack's vision tinged red at the edges.
The voice was calm.
"Do not panic."
Jack laughed weakly. "Easy for you to say."
"Place your hand in front of you," the voice instructed.
"Do not imagine fire. Do not imagine light."
Jack raised his shaking hand.
"Imagine the world tearing."
Jack did.
The pressure surged.
The space before his palm shimmered.
Crowe felt it — a sudden drop in temperature, like a vacuum forming.
"Jack—"
"Now cut."
Jack moved his hand sideways.
The air screamed.
A thin black line tore through the room, slicing across the metal door like it was made of paper. The door didn't explode.
It simply separated, falling in two clean halves.
The hunters on the other side froze, staring at the impossible wound in space between them and Jack.
Jack stared too.
"What… did I do?"
"You told reality to move," the voice replied.
The hunters recovered first.
"Kill him!" someone shouted.
Crowe lunged, dragging Jack backward as spells and bullets tore through the room.
Jack's heart pounded.
The voice whispered, delighted.
"Again."
Jack raised his hand.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
And as the world split for him once more, he felt something inside himself begin to slip away.