The world didn't glitch.
Not exactly.
But the birds stopped flying near Ash that morning.
Hover-pods flickered as they passed him on the walkway. Holograms on street corners dimmed when he came too close. Even the artificial wind slowed for a second whenever he stood still.
None of it was violent.
None of it was obvious.
But the world — coded, systemized, immortal — had begun to notice him.
And it didn't like what it noticed.
Ash wasn't sure what he was yet, but he was sure of this:
The world worked hard to stay perfect.
And he was… not perfect.
---
He walked the city perimeter after classes, under the pale light of evening. The sun never truly set here — only dimmed, like a lazy god pretending to rest.
Children weren't supposed to wander past curfew. But Ash did not feel compelled to follow the rhythm others obeyed.
And the guardians had stopped noticing him.
Literally.
Three times now, he'd passed patrol drones that scanned every student with retinal codes.
And three times, they had simply… skipped him.
As if the world's records couldn't recognize him.
As if he wasn't meant to exist.
---
He stopped by a stone bridge that arched across one of Elyssia's lower energy channels. Below it ran blue-white streams of stabilized mana — used to power the southern sectors. The current hummed with quiet power, like liquid stars.
Ash leaned over the railing.
Watched the stream.
And felt… pulled.
Not toward the mana.
But toward the space beneath it.
Something cracked below the surface.
Not physically.
Spiritually.
Then he heard it.
A growl.
Low. Hollow. Wet.
Something that should not exist in a city of order.
---
The water rippled.
A form erupted from beneath — black and warped like the shadow of a beast, but mangled in shape, like it had been melted and remade.
It landed on the bridge with a wet crunch.
A soulbeast.
But not a natural one.
This one pulsed with spirit corruption, an energy type that had been cleansed from the cities centuries ago. Its body was misshapen — parts translucent, parts metal, its eyes flickering with static and emptiness.
It shouldn't have been here.
Ash stepped back slowly.
But the beast didn't move.
Not yet.
It stared at him — not like prey, not like predator — but as if it were looking for something.
Then it growled again. A low, broken sound like someone whispering backwards.
It lunged.
---
Ash didn't scream.
He didn't flinch.
He stepped aside.
The creature smashed into the stone, cracking the bridge surface.
It rose again, hissing.
Ash turned, preparing to run — but the nearest gate to the upper city had sealed. Power loss.
No.
Not power loss.
The world was isolating the breach.
Ash glanced around. No drones. No lights. No sound.
The city had quarantined the zone.
Leaving him inside.
Alone.
With it.
---
The beast lunged again.
Ash ducked, but its claw caught his shoulder. Blood sprayed across the bridge's edge — dark, clean, vibrant.
The pain was sharp. Real.
He stumbled, one knee hitting the ground.
The creature loomed above him, ready to strike.
And then—
He breathed.
Slowly.
Once.
The world stilled.
---
Something inside him answered.
Not in words.
Not in fire.
In silence.
Cold.
Heavy.
Right.
He raised one hand — instinctively, without knowing why.
And the mark formed.
Not drawn.
Revealed.
A circle broken by a downward line — the sigil of endings — appeared in the air between them.
The beast froze.
Its body trembled violently, as if part of it recognized the mark.
Ash whispered. He didn't know why. He didn't know the words.
But they came anyway.
> "You were not meant to stay."
The mark pulsed.
And the beast began to unravel.
Not explode. Not bleed.
Just… cease.
It began from the limbs — shadowy fragments falling like dust, vanishing as they touched the ground. The creature backed away, whimpering, but its form continued to erode.
Its eyes flickered once more.
Then it was gone.
No corpse.
No soul trace.
Just… absence.
---
Ash lowered his hand.
Blood dripped from his shoulder, but he felt no fear.
Only… clarity.
He didn't know what had happened.
But he knew it had been true.
---
Minutes later, the gate hissed open.
Security units flooded in, accompanied by white-robed enforcers.
"Mana fluctuation detected!" one shouted. "Emergency breach!"
They scanned the area. Saw the damage. Saw Ash.
A bloodied ten-year-old with empty eyes, standing alone on a cracked bridge.
One officer approached. "Child. What happened here?"
Ash looked up.
Paused.
Said quietly, "A shadow creature attacked. Then vanished."
"Vanished?" the man frowned. "How?"
"I don't know."
Another officer scanned him. "He's wounded."
A healer approached. Her fingers glowed with sterile light. "I'll close the wound."
She placed her hand on his shoulder.
Then frowned.
"What—?" she whispered.
Her energy stopped working.
"I… I can't close it," she muttered. "His body won't accept the healing matrix."
Ash looked away.
"I'll bandage it," he said.
The officer stared.
Then nodded slowly.
"Take him back to central," he said. "Questioning team needs to hear this."
---
Later that night, Ash sat in a sterile observation room under quiet lights. Officers watched from behind glass. A medical AI scanned his vitals again and again.
"He shouldn't be alive," one technician whispered. "The corruption level was… terminal."
Another replied, "No genetic ID. No sector origin. No databank match. It's like he was born yesterday."
Behind the glass, an Enforcer leaned closer.
"Not born," he murmured. "Just… returned."
---
Ash sat on the bench, silent.
His shoulder still ached, but the bleeding had stopped.
He looked at his palm.
The mark was gone.
But he could still feel it.
Like a second heartbeat.
He didn't know what it meant.
But he knew the others weren't ready for it.
---
The next day, he was released back to the orphanage.
The report was logged as "unknown corrupted relic breach."
Ash was given clearance to rest and recover.
But he didn't rest.
He sat alone in the training field again, long after dark.
This time, with the scythe across his lap.
And when he whispered…
> "Show me."
…the mark pulsed once on the blade.
And the wind stopped.