Between shadow and light, the young one arose,
bearing triumph as both burden and glory.
A thousand battles he won, never to fall,
yet it was in defeat that he learned history's tale.
Before the man who was meant to be felled,
he felt the chill that victory could never bestow.
And only then, in losing to time,
did he release his grasp and walk unbound.
.
The world around me seemed to have been torn from the grasp of time itself. The rain, once a ceaseless and frigid torrent, now hung suspended in the air like countless fragments of liquid glass, each droplet frozen, capturing distorted reflections of the crimson light that ruled the sky. The wind had stilled, the city's murmur had vanished, and the only sound that remained was the heavy, rhythmic pounding of my own heart, echoing in the void around me.
And then, he was there.
My mind recoiled from the sight before me. An angelic being—yet far removed from any notion of peace or solace that the word might evoke. His golden armor gleamed with an almost violent radiance, as if every engraved detail had been forged not merely for protection but for sheer, unrelenting intimidation. The white adornments woven into his garb lent him an ethereal presence, making him seem less like a physical entity and more like a manifestation of something beyond mortal comprehension.
But it was the wings that truly froze my blood.
Forged of pure light, they bore no feathers, no organic form—only incandescent structures, pulsing with an energy that defied the very fabric of the world I knew. And above his head, a complex halo spun in slow, deliberate motion, inscribed with enigmatic symbols—ancient, unknowable, promising revelations too dreadful for any mortal to grasp.
Then came the voice once more.
— I have tarried long in seeking thee, worm.
The word carried a weight that crushed the air around me. It was not mere disdain—it was as though my very existence was an aberration, a blight upon the order of creation itself. His refined, archaic speech bore traces of an age long buried beneath the sands of time, as though every syllable had been uttered by a will that predated the first cities raised by mankind.
My body refused to move. I wanted to speak, to act, to do anything beyond mere existence before this entity, but I could not. The motorcycle beneath me was an insignificant afterthought now. The cold night air had lost all meaning. The only thing my mind could process was the unshakable certainty that I was not meant to be here.
And worse still—that he knew it.
The being advanced toward me without so much as a step, gliding through the air as if gravity itself was beneath his concern. With each passing moment, the pressure surrounding me grew heavier, as though space itself was bending under the weight of his presence. The golden luminescence of his wings flickered in spectral hues, reflecting upon the frozen raindrops, weaving a haunting display of ghostly lights that shimmered all around us.
When he finally halted before me, he was close enough that I could see the finest details of his armor, the engravings that seemed etched by hands unfamiliar with flaw. The polished gold reflected my own face—and in that mirrored surface, I saw a pale boy, wide-eyed, sweat trickling down his temple in cold rivulets of fear.
Then he spoke, and his voice was not mere sound—it was a force, reverberating through my very skull.
— I could extinguish thy pitiful existence here and now, ere thou even knew thyself undone. A mere flicker of my will, and thou wouldst be as embers upon the wind, scattered into naught.
His tone bore no threat. No anger, nor even malice. Only the absolute certainty of a truth beyond dispute.
He inclined his head slightly, and though his face remained concealed beneath his hood, I felt his gaze burrowing into me, scrutinizing every minute detail of my response—or rather, my utter lack of one.
— Yet… He continued, voice laced with a distant contemplation. It has been long since mine hand wielded steel against a foe of worth. Long since I last tasted the vigor of battle, the fervor of the clash.
The halo above him pulsed with newfound intensity, and for a fleeting moment, I was certain the symbols upon it were shifting, reforming into patterns beyond mortal reckoning.
— But tell me, O creature bereft of fate… why dost thou remain still?
There was something almost cruel in the curiosity that laced his words, as though my very inaction disappointed him.
— Hath terror calcified thy limbs? Or dost thou, in the depths of thy insignificance, already know—no deed of thine may alter what is writ?
I wanted to answer. To say anything. But my throat was dry, my voice locked away as though an unseen force had sealed it shut. My body remained rigid, ensnared between shock and the gnawing certainty of what I already knew.
For, in the deepest recesses of my mind, a whisper of truth stirred.
If this being had willed my end, I would not have even realized the moment I ceased to be.
My mouth opened, yet no sound emerged at first. My tongue felt restrained, my throat parched as though I had swallowed sand. The crushing weight of the being's presence smothered me, rendering even the simple act of drawing breath a laborious task.
I forced myself to swallow, feeling my body tremble as I struggled against the paralysis holding me captive. I had to speak. I had to understand what in all hells was happening.
— Wha… what… — The words came out hoarse, as if I were learning to speak for the first time. My own voice sounded foreign to my ears. — What… do you… want… from me…?
Each syllable was a battle against the oppression pressing against my chest. My vision wavered slightly, as though the very air surrounding the being were distorted, unreal.
I took a deep breath, grasping for even the faintest control over my own voice.
— I… I am just… an ordinary person… — My voice faltered, my mind screamed for me to run, but my muscles refused to obey. — Just… a normal boy…
My eyes searched for any trace of emotion upon the figure before me, but the white hood concealed its visage entirely. And yet, the silence that followed was laden with something. Judgment? Contempt? Or perhaps an imperceptible hesitation?
Then, slowly, the entity tilted its head ever so slightly, as if considering my words. And then, that ancient, imperious voice echoed once more.
— There is no need for thee to comprehend more than what shall be unveiled unto thee, pitiful creature.
His words carried an absolute weight, as though reality itself bowed to his authority. The air around me trembled, each syllable reverberating like distant thunder within the void of frozen time.
— Thou bearest that which should not be. — He paused briefly, and though his face remained unseen, I felt his gaze upon me, dissecting me. — Nay… None of creation should possess such a thing. Not even the divine. Not even He who wove the fabric of reality itself.
A chill raced down my spine. The way he spoke… Not even God?
My breath caught in my throat. My body remained rigid, cold sweat tracing its way down my nape. My mind screamed for me to act, to do something—anything—but the truth was, I had no idea what to do.
Because… what in all the hells was he talking about?
My throat was dry. My mind spun in desperation, struggling to process it all.
I could scarcely form words; my mouth barely obeyed me. But then… something surfaced from the depths of my mind.
That dream.
That place where my thoughts shaped reality. The endless void, the shadow that guided me, the sensation of absolute power slipping through my fingers as though it had always been mine to command.
The thought struck me like a blow to the gut. My body trembled.
My breathing was shallow, as if the very air had become denser than it ought to be. I swallowed hard, my lips moving with effort.
— T-that… — My voice wavered, nearly inaudible. I swallowed again, forcing each syllable. — …That dream…
My vision blurred for an instant, and then, as though something had ruptured within me, a spark ignited in my mind.
It was not a dream.
What if… what if it had all truly happened?
No…
That cannot be real.
My fingers clenched around the sleeves of my jacket, searching for some tangible sensation—anything to ground me in reality. My chest rose and fell in quick, erratic breaths.
The sound of rain… no longer existed. No rustling of leaves, no distant hum of engines upon the road. The entire world had fallen into silence.
This is not real.
The crimson glow of the sundered sky seared my vision, reflected in the golden armor of the entity before me. Its wings of light flickered with an ethereal brilliance, yet they stirred no air, produced no wind—nothing. As if they were a mere illusion, a mirage without substance.
My chest tightened. My mind reeled, scrambling for a reason, an excuse, a logical explanation. But there was none.
My eyes darted around, searching for anything to prove that I still stood within the real world. The wet asphalt shimmered with distorted reflections of the red light. The raindrops remained frozen midair, suspended in time. My motorcycle sat nearby, yet it looked like a painting, a static image trapped within this nightmare.
My body shook.
A nervous chuckle escaped me. Soft. Hollow.
— This… This is a dream, isn't it?
My voice echoed in the vast silence. It should not have echoed—we were outside—yet somehow, it did.
My gaze returned to the being before me. He did not move. Did not blink. Did not react.
I laughed again, louder this time.
— There's no way this is real… — The laughter withered into a faint murmur.
My stomach twisted. My body longed to flee, but my legs felt rooted to the ground, as though they no longer belonged to me.
My voice wavered.
— …Is it…?
Before I could draw breath once more, something cold and unyielding seized my throat.
My eyes widened in sheer terror as my body was wrenched from the motorcycle, my feet leaving the ground without resistance. The grip was ironclad, crushing my trachea without mercy.
Instinct screamed at me to struggle, to tear away the unseen hands that strangled me—but there were no hands. That being did not touch me directly. It was as if an invisible force, something beyond comprehension, held me aloft, draining every last drop of air from my lungs.
— Pathetic.
Its voice thundered within my mind, a soundless echo reverberating through every fiber of my being.
— Truly, humans are the most wretched of creatures. Loathsome. Feeble. And thou…
I was lifted higher, forced to gaze upon it. That veiled face, hidden beneath the white hood. That pulsating halo, engraved with symbols beyond my understanding.
— A being that hath not yet emerged from the womb. A worm, writhing within the illusion of its own existence.
My hands clutched at my throat, desperate to pry away what could not be touched. My lungs burned. My chest screamed for air.
— Ghh…!
I tried to speak. Nothing emerged.
The entity tilted its head slightly, as though scrutinizing me.
— Why dost thou yet resist? What dost thou imagine thyself to be, wretched creature? What delusion leadeth thee to believe thou art worthy to stand before me?
The edges of my vision darkened. My heartbeat pounded against my skull.
This is real.
This is real.
This is real.
For the first time… I truly felt that I was going to die.
The last remnants of air fled my lungs in a ragged, merciless jolt.
I struck the ground like a discarded carcass, my body slamming against the concrete with brutal force. A grotesque crack resounded through my bones, followed by an explosion of pain that seared through every nerve like a wildfire consuming dry parchment.
My vision flickered. My skull rebounded against the asphalt, sending a shockwave through my brain, a hammer shattering fragile glass. A piercing ring filled my ears, drowning out even the frozen rain suspended in time around me.
Pain.
So immense, so all-consuming, it bordered on delirium.
Something sharp and burning pierced my chest from within. My breath faltered. A strangled gasp escaped my lips as my eyes widened in raw horror.
Broken ribs.
One of them… had punctured my lung.
Every attempt to inhale was a blade twisting inside me. The air scraped down my throat, forcing my chest into uneven, convulsive spasms. My organs drowned in my own blood.
My head throbbed in erratic, pulsing waves, each more unbearable than the last. A metallic taste coated my tongue—blood. My own blood.
I tried to move a finger.
Nothing.
My body refused to obey, as if severed from my will.
Panic.
A terror so absolute, so primal, it consumed me whole.
— Ghaaaah…!
My mouth opened in a hoarse, broken scream.
Agony engulfed me.
And for the first time… I truly believed I would die here.
The fire in my veins raged on, a relentless torment with no end in sight. Each breath was torture. My body felt impossibly heavy, too shattered to move. I could barely keep my eyes open, yet my thoughts raced, relentless, crashing over me like waves in a storm.
Why did this have to happen to me?
Why was I chosen to bear this suffering?
The pain refused to cease. I wanted to scream, but I could not. No words remained—only the crushing weight of helplessness. What had I done to deserve this? All I had ever wanted… was to live.
I… I just wanted to live!
It was the only thing I had ever truly desired—to be free. Not to be a pawn, a marionette pulled by the strings of a fate that tossed me to and fro. Not to be shackled to a life dictated by debts, burdens, and the expectations of others.
I did not wish to be a slave.
A slave to duty. A slave to pressures. A slave to the whims of those around me. I only wished to be left in peace, without the need to prove myself, without the demand to become something I was not. I only wished to be… me.
But instead, look at where I am.
My life had always been a struggle to avoid being crushed. And now, I was quite literally being crushed.
I did not want to die. Not like this. Not now. Not before I had even had the chance to truly live.
I… I did not want to fade into nothingness.
Why had no one ever left me in peace? Why was I bound by these invisible chains? Did I not have the right, just once, to be happy? To take a single breath of true freedom?
But it seemed not. There was no freedom. No respite.
And now… it seemed my life would end here, upon the cold earth, drowned in suffering beyond reason.
I only wanted more time.
More time to breathe. More time to discover what life had to offer.
But who would care?
I could scarcely feel the ground beneath me. Pain still ravaged my form, yet my mind drifted, severed from my body. It was as though I were being devoured by an abyss—so dense, so frigid, it swallowed even my very thoughts. Movement was beyond me; breath came in ragged, broken fragments.
The fire in my chest burned slow and cruel, an ember spreading inexorably, consuming me from within. My shattered ribs, jagged as shards of broken glass, carved into my flesh, each attempt at respiration birthing a fresh explosion of agony. Yet, for all its torment, the physical suffering no longer held dominion over me.
No, it was something far deeper that lacerated my soul—a truth as bitter as death itself. In the end, I would perish as nothing. A nameless shadow, swallowed by obscurity. I would never be more than this. Never would I grasp the life I yearned for, the existence where I might carve my own path, unshackled by the weight of expectation. I would be erased, a whisper lost to time, a soul without impact, without significance.
I had accomplished nothing grand, nothing that might etch my name into memory. I had lived not for myself, but for the burdens placed upon me. Never had I tasted the winds of distant lands, nor stood beneath foreign skies, nor known what it truly meant to be alive. Freedom—true and unbridled—was a dream beyond my reach.
How I longed to feel, just once, what it was to exist beyond the suffocating confines of my own life, to step into the world without the need to conceal my very essence. But now, with the pain coiling around me like a viper and the darkness closing in, it seemed my only fate was to be unmade. As though I had never been. And perhaps… that was how it was meant to be.
I…
The pain began to fade. The world distanced itself, its images blurring into an indistinct haze. I could hear, one final time, the distant murmur of rain, the voice of that celestial being still echoing within the ruins of my mind. But all was dissolving. At last, I was letting go.
It was as though my eyes were closing upon all that could have been. As though, in the end, I was unworthy of anything beyond this. And now, I had not even the strength to resist.
I only wished… to be more. But all that awaited me was oblivion.
And then, as my eyes began their final descent into the void, a voice cleaved through the silence.
"Wilt thou surrender so easily?"
The words did not simply resound; they permeated me, a presence both hushed and overwhelming, entwining itself within the very marrow of my being. It was inescapable, undeniable. Even against the chorus of the rain, even through the remnants of my suffering, the voice remained—a sovereign force.
I could not answer. My eyelids hung heavy, burdened by the weight of the universe itself. My body, severed from the world, lay motionless. And yet, the voice persisted, unwavering.
"Why dost thou yield? Merely because an ancient being stands before thee? Dost thou truly believe it is all that exists?"
I wished to open my eyes, to form words—but my body defied me. Weariness consumed me, and my pain-drenched mind refused to obey. The questions, the very foundation of the voice's message, eluded my grasp. How could I resist, when I faced a force beyond my comprehension?
But the voice did not falter.
"He is nothing compared to that which slumbers within thee. That entity, that thing which stands before thee… it is but a mere shadow of what thou might become."
A ripple of confusion, of disbelief, coursed through me. I could not fathom it. That presence, so vast, so unfathomable—it stood beyond the limits of my imagination. How could anything surpass it? How could I, a mere boy, contain within me something of greater magnitude?
Sensing the doubt unfurling within me, the voice pressed on:
"There lies within thee a force even he cannot comprehend. Something that transcends the bounds of expectation. And yet, thou surrenderest to this doom, this fate, as though naught else remains?"
I longed to cry out, to respond. Yet still, I was bound, shackled by my own frailty. I did not understand what was happening. I did not know who—or what—spoke to me. But one thing was clear: this was no ordinary whisper in the dark.
And something, however faint, stirred within me.
"Why fall now, when thou hast yet to learn what thou art truly capable of?"
The words grew sharper, more insistent. The silence that enshrouded me seemed to quiver, pressed inward by the weight of their meaning, as if something vast loomed just beyond my reach, poised to awaken.
I remained unable to move, unable to rise. But something… something had begun to kindle. A flicker, a mere ember buried within the depths of my soul. That being had crushed me, reduced me to ruin—but the voice sought to raise me, to remind me that I was more than shattered flesh.
And then, the final question severed the stillness of my abyss:
"Wilt thou remain upon the ground… or wilt thou rise, and claim thy rightful existence?"
I did not know how to answer. Yet, something within my chest—something that refused to be extinguished—whispered that there was still more. Something inside me fought against the urge to surrender.
The voice erupted like thunder within my mind, shattering the pain and fragility that had ensnared me until now. Every word it spoke was like a direct blow to my being, piercing through every part of me, shaking the darkened corners where I had once hidden. The certainty in each syllable left no room for doubt. The moment had come.
"Rodrigo Raphael… will you yield to fate? Will you allow it to consume you so easily? What was it that your father taught you, hmm? That you are weak, destined to be trampled beneath the feet of others? No… that is not who you are! You should feel no pity, Rodrigo. Pity… will only make you weaker. You are not weak!"
The words tore through the void, making everything around me tremble. I was there, collapsed on the ground, my lungs still struggling to find oxygen. My body refused to respond, but my mind… my mind was beginning to awaken. Something became clear. I did not want to be what others had always claimed I was. I did not want to be the one who hid behind excuses. Not anymore.
The voice continued, now more urgent, as if it could feel something stirring deep within me:
"You must fight, Rodrigo. Fight for yourself! Your father taught you something you have forgotten, but it has never truly left you. He taught you to endure! To stand against what is before you, no matter what it may be. You possess power, no matter how shrouded in darkness it may be. Do not yield now—not before you understand what it means to be truly free!"
The sound of the words fell like a sharp blade, slicing through the haze that clouded my mind. Power… What was it speaking of? I did not yet understand. But within me, something began to stir—a force I had not known was mine to wield. What more did I have to lose? I was already here, beaten and broken, but not truly defeated. Not while a single chance remained.
"If you do not fight now, what will become of you? Will you die here as nothing, as a being without meaning? Or will you rise, even as your flesh cries out for rest? Go beyond, Rodrigo!"
The words rang like a summons—a command. And something within me answered. I did not know how, but the will to fight began to surface. It was as if a spark had been ignited in my chest. No, I could not die here. Not like this. Not without resisting.
It was time to stop looking back. Time to no longer fear whatever awaited me. I had to fight for myself, because no one else would.
The air was ripped from my lungs in an instant. Before my mind could react, an overwhelming force crashed down upon my back, slamming my chest against the rain-soaked asphalt. The impact was so brutal that a sickening crack echoed through my body—ribs snapping like twigs beneath an impossible weight. A pain beyond comprehension exploded through my chest, radiating to every nerve within me, as though my very heart was being torn apart from the inside.
My vision blurred. Dark and crimson spots danced before my eyes, my hearing dissolved into a distant ringing, and for a fleeting moment, I thought my body had become nothing more than a cocoon of pure agony.
The muted sound of the being's heavy breath above me resounded like a death sentence. Each beat of my heart pulsed against my shattered ribs, sending violent tremors of pain through my limbs. My body tried to resist, but it was as if every organ was on the verge of collapse.
"Putrid is the existence of lesser beings…"
The angel's voice carried a tone of boredom and disdain, as though it had done this countless times before—as though I was nothing more than another insect crushed beneath its divine heel.
It pressed down harder, and a wet sound came from within me—something was tearing apart.
My lips parted in a silent scream, for my throat failed to produce any sound.
The pain was unimaginable.
My chest burned, not like fire, but as if sharp thorns were piercing outward from within, shredding my flesh and exposing my bones to the night's cold. My heart pounded, as though it were being crushed in an unseen grip. Each beat sent fresh waves of unbearable agony. My skin was drenched—not only with rain but with cold sweat and the warmth of my own blood, now spilling from my mouth, staining the pavement beneath me.
Was this how I was going to die?
Without understanding?
Without a chance to fight?
The pressure increased once more, and my body began to cave in. I could feel it, as though time had slowed—a slow collapse, my chest imploding under the force, like a condemned building crumbling beneath the weight of its own destruction.
The voice that had once spoken within me now seemed distant, like an echo lost in the depths of my mind.
But something inside me refused to fade.
Something was not yet ready to surrender to the abyss.
I REFUSE!
Pain still tore through every fiber of my being, but something within me roared. Something primal, instinctive, uncontrollable. A force burning hotter than the fire consuming my chest. Was it rage? No… It was defiance.
I will not die.
I refuse to die here.
My hands trembled, my fingers clawed at the cold, rain-soaked asphalt. My body screamed, begging me to surrender, to accept the fate crushing me beneath its weight. But I did not yield.
I could not.
My mind was flooded with fleeting memories. My father. His stern gaze, his rough voice telling me never to pity myself. Never to lower my head. To fight.
My body was broken, my ribs pierced my flesh, my heart threatened to burst… But I was still here!
After all… who the hell did this being think he was?
Who had given him the right to decide I should die?
I REFUSE!
The crushing weight was still upon my back, yet something had changed. A heat began to rise within me, deep, voracious. It burned fiercer than any pain. It devoured the agony and reshaped it into something else.
Strength.
My eyes, half-lidded from the torment, snapped open. And in that instant, something within me awakened.
I did not realize it at first, but my body was moving on its own.
My muscles were torn, my flesh trembled under the unbearable pain consuming me, yet… I was standing.
The cold rain poured down, trailing across my face, mixing with the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Each droplet striking my skin felt… invigorating.
The angelic being withdrew his foot from my body, as if sensing something unexpected.
The silence between us was deafening. The world around us felt distant, muffled by the storm's relentless howling. I gasped for breath, my chest ablaze with suffering, yet still… I refused to fall.
The angel watched me, his imposing presence radiating something beyond my comprehension. And then, his voice echoed once more, laden with contempt:
— So, wilt thou finally fight? Or shalt thou merely resign thyself to fate, like the worm thou hast always been?
The rain had resumed its descent.
I felt the cold droplets crashing against my skin, tracing the wounds upon my face. Before, time had been frozen, as if the very world had held its breath to witness my execution. But now… it moved once more.
Ignoring all else, I closed my eyes.
My breath was ragged, uneven, yet something pulsed within me—something I had never felt before. A strange heat, a vortex of energy, swirling in my chest, flowing through every fiber of my being until it reached my left hand.
And then, I felt it.
Something was taking shape.
My left hand burned, vibrating with a force that seemed to manifest from the very air around me. I could not see it, but I knew. Knew that something was there. A sphere. A sphere made of… wind?
It was strange. Not solid, yet not empty. My palm tingled, as if thousands of invisible threads wove themselves together, compressing, spinning, writhing—desperate to be unleashed. The air around me distorted, whispering softly, as though the very oxygen was being consumed by the growing power.
I opened my eyes, and the angel still stood there, motionless, watching.
He spoke not. He made no movement.
Yet the gaze beneath that white hood bore into me, judging… waiting.
But I did not care.
For in that moment, I knew.
I was no longer the Rodrigo Raphael of before.
The silence between us shattered.
The being began to laugh.
First, a low chuckle, almost restrained, but swiftly escalating into something deranged, thunderous. His voice rolled like an impending storm, reverberating through the space around us, as if the very world itself joined in his laughter. It was cruel, filled with unfiltered scorn, as though I were the most absurd thing he had ever beheld.
And then… as suddenly as it had begun, it ceased.
Silence returned, heavy as lead.
The angelic entity tilted his head slightly, his halo flaring with an otherworldly glow, his luminous wings trembling ever so slightly. Even without seeing his face, I knew—he was looking at me with utter derision.
— Tell me, oh fragile creature of flesh and folly… — his voice slithered into my mind, laced with pure disdain. — Dost thou truly believe that a mere Rasengan could so much as graze me?
My blood ran cold.
He stepped forward—without touching the ground—hovering above me like a harbinger of doom.
— Tell me, art thou mad, or merely a fool? — The light around him flickered with his words. — Dost thou, in thy infantile arrogance, think that such a paltry conjuration of air could bring me harm?
His presence grew even more overwhelming.
It was as if the very atmosphere conspired to deny me oxygen, reminding me—unceasingly—of how insignificant I was before this entity.
— Ah… how tragic is the spectacle of ignorance… — He sighed, lifting his right hand ever so slightly, as though preparing to crush a mere insect. — But I shall grant thee, wretched worm, the illusion of rebellion. That when I strip thee of breath and soul alike, thou shalt know the abyss that separates gods from refuse.
I swallowed hard.
The sphere of wind spun in my palm, emitting a sharp, cutting hum.
And even beneath the weight of his suffocating presence…
I did not retreat.
The sound of rain vanished.
The entire world seemed to shrink to that single, spiraling sphere of compressed wind in my grasp. It roared with a razor-edged ferocity, a miniature hurricane pulsing between my fingers, its high-pitched whine filling the silence.
My legs bent.
My muscles burned, every fiber of my being screaming in exhaustion. But I could not stop.
I threw myself forward with everything I had.
Water exploded outward as my feet propelled me forward with fury. The Rasengan's cutting winds tore through the air, sending droplets spiraling in chaotic, whirling currents.
The angelic being did not move.
He merely watched my advance, motionless, that unseen gaze hidden beneath his white hood and glowing halo. His disdain for me was almost tangible.
But I did not care.
I had been trampled too many times. Called worthless. Weak. Nothing.
I would not allow it to happen again.
My hand struck his chest with brutal force.
The impact shattered the rain-drenched night.
The Rasengan expanded in a violent burst, unleashing a shockwave of compressed air that tore through our surroundings. A deafening roar consumed the street as raw power erupted, scattering debris and sending water cascading in all directions.
The ground trembled.
Nearby buildings shuddered from the force of the impact.
Then, for a fleeting instant—silence.
Dust and smoke rose, thick and suffocating, blinding me completely. I could see nothing.
My breathing was ragged. My arm throbbed from the force of the strike.
Had I…?
My legs wobbled. I clenched my fists, trying to ignore the searing pain in my chest.
Then, from within that cloud of dust and darkness…
A golden light shimmered.
And a voice, cold and unscathed, echoed through the air.
— Hmph… is that all?
Fear slithered down my spine like venom.
That golden glow piercing the haze was enough to extinguish any ember of hope I had, however briefly.
He had not even budged.
And before I could react—before my mind could even comprehend the truth—he was already before me.
The golden silhouette moved in a blur, and before my eyes could follow—before I could even think—the pain came.
Brutal. Absolute.
His fist struck my stomach like a war hammer of a thousand tons.
Something ruptured within me. My organs twisted violently, crushed under the sheer, merciless force of the blow.
The air was ripped from my lungs as though a spear had been driven through my chest. My entire body folded around the celestial entity's fist, agony flooding through me like an electric current surging through my spine, detonating behind my skull.
My vision warped.
My ribs cracked like brittle wood splintering apart.
Hot blood surged up my throat, searing like acid, and before I realized it, I spat forth a crimson spray, staining his golden arm with scarlet.
But he did not care.
For a single moment, the world was silent.
And then—
I was sent flying.
The impact hurled me like a stray missile, a helpless projectile flung into the storm.
Wind howled past my ears as my body twisted uncontrollably, limbs flailing, each nerve screaming in raw, burning agony.
And then, the collision.
I crashed into the side of a gas station with catastrophic force. My body detonated against the concrete wall, the impact reverberating through the air like a thunderclap. But that was not the end.
The force triggered a detonation.
A fireball erupted, swallowing the station in an inferno of destruction.
I was hurled upward, a tidal wave of searing heat licking at my skin, blinding light consuming my world.
Once more, I was cast into the storm—
And, for a moment, the only thing that existed was the sound of my own ragged breath, drowned beneath an agony so immense it threatened to unmake me.
I could barely think. Could barely grasp what was happening.
Fire. The acrid stench of burning fuel. Smoke, thick and choking. The sensation of unbearable heat licking at my flesh… It all blurred together. But the pain—the pain remained.
And I was alone in the midst of it all.
I just wanted to breathe.
I was lying on the ground, my vision blurred, the pain still consuming me, when I heard a muffled voice from somewhere distant—probably the gas station attendant. He was shouting, but his voice felt far away and distorted, blending with the crackling of flames and the suffocating scent of burning gasoline in the air. I could barely grasp the words; everything was warped, as if my brain were overloaded.
But then, the only thing I could hear were the footsteps.
Strong. Heavy.
At first, just the echo of TAP, TAP against the pavement, like iron gates slamming shut—measured, relentless. Then, the sound grew closer, each step heavier, more deliberate, as if the very ground trembled beneath its approach.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
The noise became clearer, sharper, yet all the more ominous. Each footfall carried a weight, a presence, a pressure that swelled like an impending storm. My mind struggled to focus, but the pain was devouring me, the smoke was choking me, and the echoes of explosions still rang in my ears.
I couldn't move.
Each step—TAP—drew closer, heavier—TAP.
The sound grew deafening, and I knew. The being responsible for this was coming for me. Like a grim decree, its footsteps were inescapable, heralding something far worse.
And then, instead of the presence I already knew, something else—something immense, something almost... divine—approached. I couldn't see it, but the sheer gravity of its presence made me feel like I was losing all control. I didn't know if the fear was real or merely a pain-induced delirium. But whatever was coming... it was not good.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
The pain was still consuming me, and my body felt unresponsive, disconnected from reality. Every breath was an ordeal, and I could barely keep my eyes open. I tried to cry out, to say something, but all I managed was a strangled groan that barely left my throat. My body felt impossibly heavy, my wounds deep, and the overwhelming sense of powerlessness made me feel like I was sinking into an abyss without end.
But then, a voice—low, urgent—cut through the thick silence engulfing me. The gas station attendant. His voice stood out against the cacophony of pain and chaos surrounding me.
— "Hey, kid! Are you alright?"
The voice was strange, but it was trying to pull me back, trying to drag me out of whatever fog I was trapped in.
I forced my eyes open, blinking against the harsh light. For a moment, my vision was nothing but blinding white. Then, shapes slowly took form—a blurry figure, a man in a gas station uniform, holding a fire extinguisher. He was approaching me, his steps quick but cautious, likely because he could see just how badly I was hurt. There was concern in his face, a genuine urgency to help, but I couldn't respond. My mouth was dry, my chest burned with every breath, and any words I might have had drowned in the tidal wave of agony.
— "Hold on, hold on! I'm calling an ambulance right now!"
His voice was hurried, but not panicked. He was acting fast, scanning the destruction around us—the wreckage from my impact, the flames still licking at the ruins, the gasoline stains glistening on the pavement beneath the heavy downpour.
— "The police and firefighters are on their way, but I need to get you out of here!"
He knelt beside me, trying to lift me carefully. His face was tense, a mixture of desperation and determination. He understood that if I didn't get out of here soon, things could get even worse. I didn't know if what he said was true, but in that moment, his words were the only anchor I had in my collapsing reality.
A sharp pressure shot through my back as he tried to lift me, and then—a deep, searing pain tore through my body. I was too weak to protest, too broken to resist. I wanted to scream, but all that escaped was another weak groan, barely audible. I was drifting, a ship lost at sea, swallowed by the relentless waves of suffering.
The attendant was doing his best to stay composed, but I could sense the anxiety in his voice, in his movements. He didn't know how to help me, but he was trying. The pain was overwhelming—I could barely process what was happening around me anymore. I was in shambles. Everything around me was crumbling.
He held me tighter, trying again to lift me. He said something about the ambulance arriving soon, but all I could feel was the crushing weight in my chest and the coppery taste of blood still lingering in my mouth.
I wished it were all a nightmare. I wished time would turn back, that I could undo the mistakes I had made, but all that remained to me now was this brutal reality.
The sound of footsteps once more sliced through the air—imposing, heavy, like the measured rhythm of an immortal march. It was impossible not to feel the presence of the being drawing closer, especially after all that had transpired, yet at that moment, I no longer had the strength to react. The attendant tried to hold onto me, perhaps for the last time, but even he, with all his good intentions, could not shield me from the violence that was approaching.
Then, it happened in the span of a single breath—swifter than I could comprehend. The being, still looming as an angelic and imposing figure, surged forward with a motion abrupt and inexorable. Before I could process or even attempt to resist, he seized the attendant with a brutality that made my stomach churn. The man, who had been a presence of solace and aid, was hurled away like a mere plaything, discarded without mercy.
I saw his body arc through the air, weightless, powerless, until it met its cruel fate. He crashed directly into the still-raging flames of the gas station, where fire, insatiable and merciless, devoured his flesh and clothing with a hunger that could not be quelled. The searing heat distorted the air around me, twisting reality itself in the wake of the inferno that now consumed the man.
I could not scream. I could not move. Fear gripped me in a paralysis beyond my will, and the scene unfolding before me was nothing short of nightmarish. The crackling of the fire feasting upon the attendant's form was almost hypnotic, the relentless blaze reducing flesh to ash.
My body trembled with adrenaline, yet my mind could scarcely grasp the horror unraveling before me. The pain that had once seemed unbearable was now but a whisper in the face of the dread enveloping me. Everything was unraveling, as though life itself was being torn away—mine included.
Before I could even react, the being's hand closed around me. It was as though he wielded a dominion incomprehensible, and my vision darkened instantly, as though a crushing shadow had swept over all. His touch was freezing—an unseen force wrapping around my mind, erasing all sensation, all thought.
The world around me faded into void. The roar of the flames, the acrid scent of burning fuel, the pain—all of it twisted and dissolved until nothing remained but darkness. I could no longer discern what was happening, what was to come, or even who I was in that moment.
I was being pulled into an abyss unfathomable, and the last thing I perceived before my consciousness surrendered was a weight upon my face—as if an unseen hand had passed judgment upon me, silencing my very existence.
The sensation of being dragged was violent, as if my entire being was torn from the ground, cast away with an unfathomable force. My ribs still ached, and the impact wrenched a spatter of blood from my lips. When at last I regained enough awareness to force my eyes open, my sight was blurred.
The sky—storm-laden and unyielding—loomed over me, a curtain of darkness ready to consume. I looked around, struggling to make sense of my surroundings. The rain was relentless, each drop heavier than the last, each gust of wind biting into my skin like a blade. Cold seeped into my bones, yet the pain was strangely distant, as though dulled by the sheer confusion overwhelming me.
And then—I saw it.
That monument.
The towering figure of Christ the Redeemer stood before me, arms outstretched in solemn silence, an effigy of solitude and mercy against the storm-ridden heavens. It was unmistakable—the stone sentinel that reigned over the horizon of Rio de Janeiro.
Rio de Janeiro?
How was this possible?
I blinked, my breath hitching, my mind struggling to grasp the absurdity of it all. I searched my surroundings again, my thoughts a storm of disarray.
The being was there—hovering before me, his posture unshaken, composed. The storm did not touch him; the rain seemed to refuse him, his garments and armor remaining untouched, moving only with the silent rhythm of an unseen force.
He did not turn to me. His gaze was fixed upon the statue, as though he beheld something beyond what I could perceive, beyond the chaos that had led us here.
I wanted to speak, to demand understanding, but my disorientation swallowed my words before they could form. How had I come here? What was happening? How had I been carried across such an impossible distance?
The weight of the place settled upon me as I struggled to comprehend, while the being remained still, unwavering, his focus locked upon the monument. My body trembled beneath the weight of helplessness and fear.
I did not know what he wanted of me, nor why he had brought me here, but a single truth settled in my chest like a stone sinking into dark waters.
This could not be good.
Fixing my gaze upon the being, I forced myself to stand despite the weight of my wounds. The ground was cold beneath me, the rain relentless, hammering against my skin. Yet my mind clung to one question—one demand echoing louder than all others.
What was I to do now?
I was in Rio, standing before Christ the Redeemer, trapped in a reality that defied all reason.
The tension within me seemed to double as I beheld the entity. It had yet to utter a word, yet its mere presence overshadowed all else. It was as if it awaited something. But what?
With an air of overwhelming indifference, the being finally spoke. Its voice, deep and resonant, echoed across the space like a distant reverberation that transcended dimensions. Each syllable it articulated bore the weight of millennia, a voice not merely heard but felt, as though it were the final decree of all that had ever existed and all that would one day perish.
"I had intended to cast thee into the core of the sun… that thou mightst feel the vastness of nothingness, the primordial agony that unravels essence, sundering it beneath the crushing weight of the void."
Its voice slithered through the air, woven with a sovereign disdain, as though it merely recounted a tale of bygone ages. I scarcely grasped the full magnitude of its words, yet they did not strike me as mere threats. No, they were truths—cold, impersonal, as if it spoke not in menace, but in inevitability.
The being continued, though its gaze remained fixed upon the grand figure of Christ the Redeemer, as if it beheld something beyond mere stone, something that, to it, was no more than a hollow relic. The rain, which had fallen in chaotic torrents, now seemed to pulse in response to its presence. Thunder raged through the heavens, tearing through the sky like cracks in reality itself.
"Yet, by some whim of fate, something stayed my hand from exacting that punishment… and thus, I find myself here, before this effigy."
There was a pause, one laden with unspoken contempt. Its piercing gaze lingered upon the monument with a solemnity that defied explanation. It was not reverence—far from it—but rather the regard one gives an anomaly, something undeserving of attention yet inextricably entwined with one's path.
The being did not look at me. Its words, like echoes dragged from some abyssal eternity, carried no urgency, only an immutable certainty. I strained to make sense of them, to discern intent within its speech, yet my own voice remained trapped in my throat. Its manner of speaking was lofty, archaic, as if it regarded me with the dispassionate curiosity one grants an insect struggling in the wind.
"Thou dost not yet comprehend… thou canst not fathom what thou art, Rodrigo Raphael. This is not about thee. It never was."
Its voice was steeped in weariness, as though exasperated by my futile attempts at understanding. The weight of its words clouded my thoughts, obscuring any sense of logic or reason. The world around me felt as though it crumbled at the edges, drifting further and further beyond my grasp.
I sought to rise, to reclaim some measure of control over myself, yet my body would not move. Each word it spoke pressed upon me like an invisible force, shackling me to the abyss of my own insignificance. It no longer stood before me as a mere adversary; it was something far greater—a force, an inevitability, something I was never meant to grasp.
It was eternal, immutable, and untouchable. And yet, despite its disdain, it did not turn from the statue. It beheld Christ the Redeemer with an expression so unreadable that I could not tell whether it was derision, curiosity, or something else entirely—perhaps something even it did not fully understand.
The rain now fell with relentless fury, swallowing the world in an unyielding storm. Yet even the tempest seemed insignificant before the entity's presence. The sky itself seemed to tremble, as if the heavens themselves recoiled at the weight of its being.
It remained undisturbed. I was but a fleeting shadow beneath its gaze.
"I have walked through all ages, beheld empires rise and crumble to dust. I have seen humanity devour itself, watched its children wander astray. And yet, thou dost persist in thy vain search for meaning, thy feeble defiance against inevitability. It is pathetic."
Each word it spoke fell upon me like an inexorable decree, a judgment devoid of passion, yet tinged with a bitter amusement. It was as though my very existence—my struggle, my pain—was nothing more than an ephemeral jest to it.
I, fragmented before something far beyond mortal understanding, could do nothing but stare.
And the being, resplendent in its ancient grandeur, merely continued.
With the weight of ages pressing upon its form, it gazed upon the monument before it—a figure of solitude and mercy, standing against the storm.
And in a voice that resonated with the gravity of the cosmos itself, it spoke.
"For all eternity, Rodrigo Raphael, thou shalt never grasp the design that unfolds before thee. My intent, at first, was to cast thee into the sun's heart, to let thy mortal essence be unmade by the primordial blaze. Yet, some force beyond the reach of men, some whim of fate, hath stayed my hand."
Though its voice carried the authority of an eternal decree, it held no wrath—only an abyssal stillness, a tranquility deeper than oblivion itself.
"Thou, who deemest thyself a mere man, art naught but an imperfect reflection of the possibilities the cosmos hath woven. Even the one who stands before thee—this Christ, whom men revere—is but a thing crafted by flesh, shaped by the fragile convictions of those who fear the void. But I… I am that which transcends such trifles."
The being did not move, yet the air around it shifted, thick with a power that defied all reason.
And the statue, though vast and solemn, now seemed small beneath its gaze.
The heavens darkened further, the storm howling like a living thing, bending not to chaos, but to the mere presence of the entity. The winds no longer belonged to nature—they belonged to it.
"Thou, Rodrigo Raphael, dost not possess the capacity to comprehend what I truly am, nor what truly constitutes me. My existence doth not reside within this plane thou knowest, and thy fleeting life is but a breath, a flame that vanishes in an instant. I am the reflection of time, of creation, and of the destruction that permeates all worlds. Every motion of mine reverberates through the depths of infinite dimensions."
The being floated, motionless, as though entirely removed from all that transpired around it, its words cast with the wisdom of forgotten ages. Its angelic form, pure light itself, seemed to transcend the very concept of reality, like a presence that existed between the veils of the universe and eternity.
"Thy existence, Rodrigo, is bound by thy flesh, thy emotions, and thy perceptions that crumble with time. I, on the other hand, am the eternal essence. I am not governed by the fleeting things that bind thee, such as thy fears and doubts. And thou, young one, who dost not yet grasp the weight of what ails thee, dost dare question my interest in thee?"
It turned slowly, and its gaze made the very atmosphere heavy, as though the space around me were contracting. Its words were no mere threat, but a revelation of what it was capable of, a certainty that humanity, with its frailties, could not even fathom the entirety of the being before it.
"No, Rodrigo Raphael, thou shouldst not comprehend aught beyond what hath been told thee. Simply accept thy true place in the cosmos. It is not about what thou desirest or what thou imagines to be thy will. My vision is clear, and what thou hast, what thou carriest within thee... This, young mortal, should never be within the reach of any being such as thyself. It was not given unto thee, nor even unto the gods themselves, such a dangerous gift."
The being's words, like an irrefutable sentence, filled the space between us, and for a brief moment, I felt as though I stood before the very origin of all things, before something that could not be contained and that was beyond any power I could imagine. The being, with its majesty, seemed more a manifestation of universal order, something that existed to balance and, if necessary, destroy all that dared challenge that order.
"Now understand, Rodrigo Raphael, that thy journey is futile in the face of what is about to unfold. Thou hast not the capacity to alter the course of that which is already set. Acknowledge thy insignificance and accept thy fate."
Its voice, imposing and cold, was like a distant breeze from another world, another time, where the rules of all we knew did not apply. It remained there, suspended, like a monolith of power and knowledge, waiting, perhaps, for my response or my silence, as I now found myself in the midst of a battle that transcended any human understanding.
And as its words reverberated in the air and I still struggled to comprehend their meaning, their implications, and the weight of the fate being imposed upon me, I realized there was no opportunity to refuse.
I... I no longer understood anything. What that being was saying... it was as though the words from some ancient book, lost in time, were being spoken to me. It was as if everything I had ever known was crumbling before a presence that did not belong to this world. I was weak, battered, my body still torn from the blows that this immense, merciless being had struck me. But... even so... something within me, a faint flame, still burned.
I gazed at the being, still floating before me, its posture so haughty and cruel. It spoke with a confidence that came from knowing it was eternal, that nothing could touch it. Its words were like a death sentence, a sentence I had not asked for. Why? Why me? Why was this happening to me?
So many questions piled up in my mind, each one trampling the other in a desperate search for answers. I could not stop asking myself why. I didn't understand, didn't comprehend how everything I had done in my life could have led me here. Was it my fault? Had I done something so terribly wrong to deserve facing something like this? All I wanted was a simple life. I only wished not to be a slave to my own existence... Not to be pulled by the invisible chains of expectations, duties, and responsibilities I never asked to carry.
What the being spoke of, my destiny, the power I supposedly possessed... I could scarcely believe it. How could something so small as I, a mere adolescent, be worthy of such attention from an entity so powerful? The fear of being crushed, of being erased, of being forgotten—this all consumed me from within. But, deep inside, something within me refused to yield. Something within me refused to be small.
I did not wish to be a slave. Not anymore. I did not wish to be forced into choices that were not mine. I did not want to be held hostage by anything. Not by my emotions, not by my family, not by my own fears. I did not wish to be a mere spectator in the story of my life, a passive onlooker waiting for things to happen around me.
What that being spoke of... did not affect me as it believed it would. It spoke of my destiny, of the power I held, as though I were but a mere pawn on a board it could manipulate at will. But within me, something did not bend.
"No... I shall not yield," I thought, feeling a strength begin to rise from the depths of my chest. I am no longer a slave.
My hands trembled, still numb and aching, but the sensation of being crushed, of being submissive... it was pulling away from me. I wished to choose my own path. I did not wish to be what that being said I should be. I did not wish to be the puppet of a destiny I never chose. Not now, not anymore. I... I had to fight, not only for myself but for all I still believed in, for all that remained of me, for all that I wished to become. I refuse to be a slave.
I took a deep breath, feeling the pains of my body, the weight of every impact, every blow. But deep within, within the very core of my being, I knew that if I gave in now, I would lose everything. Not just my life, but the very essence of who I was. I could not give up.
My vision was still blurred, everything seemed shrouded in mist around me, but the being before me, the one who gazed at me as though I were nothing, did not know what I felt now. It did not know the power that existed within me. It did not know what it meant to desire to be more than what destiny had imposed upon me.
I refuse to be a slave.
I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the rain falling around me, as if nature itself were witnessing what was transpiring. I was nothing compared to it, not in strength, not in power. But perhaps, I was something more. Perhaps the will to fight, to resist, was what made me different.
I knew this battle would not be easy. But there was one thing I knew with all my soul. I would not be defeated.
I refuse...
The pain still pulsed through my body, every movement reminding me of how broken I was. But something burned within me, something that began to grow with immense force, as if my very being were being consumed by an uncontrollable will. I would not accept this. Not now, not after all I have endured.
With a scream that echoed through the emptiness, I looked directly at the being before me. "I refuse!" My voice was firm, though my breath was heavy, the sound of rain falling around me almost drowning out my words. "I refuse to accept things like fate. Not now that I have the power to change things!"
As I spoke these words, my body began to react. I felt something rising from my left shoulder, a cold and powerful energy that made the raindrops around me vanish, as though nature itself were being drawn in by this force that was beginning to grow. It was as if the universe were bending to give me the chance to fight. A brilliant and intense blue light began to form, growing into a vast, luminous vortex. It was as though the very energy of the sky itself were in my hands, and I... I was controlling it.
The being before me, which had once seemed so invincible, paused for a moment. It did not speak, but its eyes... its eyes glowed with something deep. It seemed to evaluate every movement I made with absurd calm, as though it knew what was coming. And then, with a heavy and disdainful voice, it finally spoke:
"So be it, then. The death of Rodrigo Raphael shall be necessary."
The sound of its words cut through the air like a sharp blow, and the tension heightened. I could feel the power in its words, the presumption with which it believed its power would be enough to destroy me. But something within me refused to give in. Not anymore.
The energy in my left shoulder continued to grow, expanding until the blue light became almost blinding, absorbing every raindrop, devouring everything around it. I knew this was the beginning of something far greater. I knew that, for the first time in my life, I was not being controlled. I was controlling.
I looked at the being, feeling the power flow through me. "I am no longer what you think I am!"
And, with a swift movement, I concentrated the energy in my hand, creating a point of condensed force, an impact so great that even the heavens themselves would tremble. The being did not know what to expect. It thought it could destroy me easily, but now... now I held something it did not comprehend: the will to fight, the power to never give up, and the belief that fate would not be as it said.
I would not yield. I would not be anyone's puppet, not anymore.
And the battle, at last, was about to begin.