Falling was supposed to feel terrifying. But Dusk? Dusk was bored.
> "Well, this is anticlimactic," he muttered, tumbling through what looked like a shattered sky. "I expected more screaming. Maybe some violins."
Below him, the ground wasn't really ground. It was a floating mess of crimson islands, cracked stone bridges, and ancient ruins orbiting a bleeding sun that hung sideways in the sky. Gravity felt like a polite suggestion. The laws of physics? On vacation.
When he finally hit something solid, it wasn't with a splat, but a flash.
The tattoo on his chest lit up—burning amber—and a shockwave burst from his body, halting the impact like an invisible shield. Dusk groaned as he rolled over and sat up.
> "Okay… Not dead. That's new."
His eyes scanned the hellscape. Towers floated upside down. Trees bled leaves that never touched the ground. The air smelled like scorched metal and nostalgia. It was beautiful. And completely wrong.
Then came the growl.
Dusk turned slowly.
A creature emerged from the shadows. Eight feet tall. No face—just rows of jagged teeth forming a smile across a featureless head. Its body was stitched together from different humanoid forms, and its arms ended in curved bone-blades.
> "Ah. A welcoming committee," Dusk said. "Let me guess, no handshake?"
The creature lunged.
Instinct took over. Dusk ducked the first swipe, rolled under the second, and leapt back. His body moved like it remembered something his mind didn't. A second blade slashed toward him—too fast to dodge.
Then the tattoo flared.
Time warped for a moment. Dusk sidestepped the blow in a blink, like his body had skipped a frame of reality. His palm snapped forward—pure reflex—and a shockwave of energy erupted, blasting the creature back.
> "What the hell was that?" he breathed, staring at his hand.
The beast wasn't done. It shrieked, lunging again. Dusk gritted his teeth, adrenaline surging.
> "Fine. Round two, ugly."
This time, he didn't dodge—he danced. Every movement was smoother, faster. His body felt awake.
He caught the creature's arm, flipped over it, and slammed a burst of glowing energy into its back. It exploded in a shower of black ash.
Silence returned.
Dusk stood still, breathing hard, staring at the smoking crater. Then:
> "…Did I just anime-punch a nightmare into dust?"
From behind him, a voice replied coldly:
> "You barely survived a level one spawn. Don't get cocky."
Dusk turned—and there she was.
Lian Rinova. Standing on a broken archway, cloak torn, blood trailing from her lip, blade still dripping black ash. She didn't look pleased.
> "Nice to see you too," Dusk said, smirking. "So, was that thing your pet or—"
> "I followed you," she interrupted. "Because you're the anomaly. And because… something's wrong with this world."
Dusk raised an eyebrow.
> "You mean besides the demon spaghetti monster I just exploded?"
Her eyes narrowed, but a small flicker of something—not quite a smile—crossed her face.
> "You've awakened the first seal," she said quietly. "The mark on your chest. It's not just power… it's a curse."
Dusk looked down at the faintly glowing tattoo. The light was fading now, pulsing like a heartbeat.
> "Fantastic," he muttered. "Cursed and fashionable. I'm winning at life."
Lian stepped closer.
> "We're not in the realm of judgment anymore," she said. "This place... is called Noctis Vale. It's a rift—a battlefield between forgotten gods, lost souls, and the truth that was never meant to exist."
> "Catchy," Dusk said. "So, what now? Team up? Fight through hell together? Share tragic backstories?"
Lian didn't smile. But she didn't walk away either.
> "For now," she said. "We survive."
Dusk cracked his knuckles, eyes scanning the horizon where another beast was already taking shape from the mist.
> "Well," he said, stepping forward, power humming in his veins, "then let's give this nightmare something to be afraid of."
And the fight began again.
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