Rain hissed from a dying sky—
Not water.
Ash, falling like static across Metro Nyos.
The neon-lit city bled oil, smoke, and memory. Skyscrapers loomed like dead gods, their faces lost in broken glass. Beneath a rusted arcade canopy, Matt Salurga sat—
Knuckles split.
Eyes hollow.
Soaked in a storm that didn't touch him.
A pulse.
Then another.
Still alive.
But only mostly.
Another blackout. Another body. Another hole he couldn't explain.
He stood.
The world cracked.
And something old watched through his eyes.
---
A terminal nearby flickered.
Matt glanced up—
Not his reflection.
The screen stared back with eyes like collapsing stars.
Not human.
Not yet.
"Still breathing, huh?"
Grey Saimon stepped out of the rain, flipping a canned coffee toward him. Matt didn't catch it.
Grey sat beside him, cigarette somehow dry.
"That's two for two this week. Want me to start a killboard?"
Matt didn't answer. His hands trembled—but not from the cold.
Grey studied him.
"You ever think you're cursed?"
Matt flinched.
Not from the words.
From the truth under them.
---
The dreams again.
Fire.
War.
A sword of black flame.
Names he didn't know echoed through his skull like scars:
Nyuga. Amiya. Nitrine.
He always woke the same.
Like something was missing.
Or worse—like something was looking for him.
"I'm not cursed," he muttered.
"Then what the hell are you?"
Matt didn't reply.
Because part of him already knew.
---
Home
The apartment was cold.
Mailane Minari moved like a shadow through the kitchen—barefoot, blade in hand. Calm. Sharp. Dangerous.
The door opened.
Matt stepped in, soaked in blood and silence.
"You fought again."
"He started it."
"You ended it. With enough force to crack concrete."
"I'm trying."
"Try harder."
She approached. Blade gone.
Touch gentle. Fingers brushed his wrist—
Where her skin met his, shadows curled.
The bruises faded.
But the damage stayed.
"I'm here," she whispered.
And for one breath—
That was enough.
Then the world broke.
---
The First Break
A scream—not from this age.
Matt stood in flame and ruin.
A temple collapsing.
Children screaming in a lost tongue.
Paladins descended like judgment, swords drawn in silence.
A name, shouted through smoke—
"Matt!"
Then—
Pain.
Real pain.
Blood boiled from his mouth, thick and black.
Grey caught him mid-collapse.
"DUDE—WHAT?!"
Matt's eyes rolled up.
No whites. No pupils.
Just spirals.
The Void opened.
And the room exploded.
---
Elsewhere: Between Realms
Five figures watched across time.
Monshin adjusted his ivory mask.
"He remembers."
Thermuz growled.
"He shouldn't."
Analice sipped flame.
"The Nitine soul clings. Even when burned."
Nimistran's eyes narrowed.
"Let him hate. Hate binds deeper than faith."
Arshimest crushed a crystal in one hand.
A realm died.
And the hunt began again.
---
Matt: Reborn
He awoke in ash.
No sky. No walls. No Grey. No Mailane.
Only silence—and a single object:
A hilt. Black.
Pulsing with flame that held no light.
It breathed.
It whispered:
"Welcome back, my executioner."
Matt didn't flinch.
He remembered.
He was home.