A sharp gasp.
Cold air stabbed into his lungs, raw and untamed. It felt like the first breath of a body reborn.
Above him, a canopy of towering trees swayed gently, golden sunlight dripping through leaves like fractured glass. The light felt warm, but the world around him was quiet—too quiet.
He blinked. Once. Twice.
He was lying on his back, half-buried in a bed of leaves. Damp soil clung to his clothes. His fingers curled into the earth as if trying to anchor himself to something familiar.
He couldn't remember falling asleep here.He couldn't remember anything.
He sat up slowly. Muscles ached, not with pain, but like they had been unused for years. His body responded to his will, yet nothing about it felt personal. His hands, his limbs, his skin… it all worked, but none of it belonged to him.
No name surfaced.
No past.
Just silence in his mind, like a house emptied out and locked tight.
He stood. The forest swelled around him, vast and unknowable. There was no birdsong, no insect hum. Only the whisper of wind brushing against the trees. Roots curled beneath his feet. He looked down at himself: a simple tunic, worn leather boots, an empty sheath at his belt.
Everything about this felt deliberate. Like someone had dressed him for a role… but forgotten to give him a script.
And still, he didn't panic.
Deep down, he knew this emptiness was chosen.
He began walking...slowly at first, along a narrow path pressed into the earth. The forest opened up just enough to let him pass, like it, too, was waiting to see what he would do.
Then—A growl.
Low. Guttural. Wrong.
He froze.
From the underbrush, red eyes emerged. One pair. Then two more. Creatures low to the ground, bristling with fur like jagged wire and shadows that moved on their own. Their teeth were long, wrong, and too many.
The first leapt.
Before he could think, his body moved.
He ducked. Grabbed a thick branch from the ground. Pivoted. Swung.
CRACK.
The beast yelped and skidded across the dirt.
Another came. He shifted, instinct guiding his limbs. He brought the branch down hard across its back. Another howl.
Then a third creature lunged at him from the side. He wasn't fast enough.Claws raked across his ribs.
Pain bloomed. Real. Sharp. But it didn't stop him.
He turned. Jammed the branch into its chest. Drove it deep.
Silence returned.
Blood soaked into the roots beneath him, steaming faintly in the cool air. His chest heaved. His hands trembled, but his breath… was calm.
And then it came.
A wave, Not of pain, but of emotion. rage, grief, exhaustion, all tangled and rising from somewhere deep and buried.
A flash.
An office. Cold light. Rows of monitors. The smell of coffee gone stale.A man in a suit, broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, staring at him across a desk.
"You're good at what you do," the man said flatly. "But you're not special. Remember that."
The voice echoed with too much weight. Not just a boss.Something else. Something closer.
Gone.
He gasped again, this time quieter. His knees buckled slightly, but he didn't fall.
The forest was still. Watching.
There was something inside him, power, but not yet awakened. Not fully. It was tied to what he had given up. Tied to what was locked away.
He looked at his trembling hand.
Somewhere, deep in his bones, he knew:
This was only the beginning.