2025-12-10 01:19:07Police sirens screamed in the distance, but they were the least of his problems.
Two men lay motionless near a dumpster, their blood mixing with the rainwater at his feet. George wiped his knife on his shirt. “Come on,”
he whispered to himself. “Move.”
A voice echoed from the mouth of the alley: “GEORGE KANE! WE KNOW YOU’RE HERE!”
Not police. Worse. Gang hunters. Eight of them. George slid deeper into the shadows. He knew the rules of the street, you survive by being louder, meaner, quicker. Tonight he wasn’t any of those.
Tonight… it felt like the world wanted him gone. One of the hunters kicked a trash can aside. “He’s bleeding. Check the trail!”
George looked at his arm, a bullet had grazed him earlier. Blood dripped steadily.
They would find him soon. He tightened the grip on his knife, but his hand trembled. Not from fear. George didn’t fear men. He feared something else tonight. Something he didn’t dare name.
He tried to move, but the alley blurred around him. His head swayed. His legs weakened. Voices drew closer. Then, A gunshot. Not at him , above him. A neon sign cracked and came crashing down, exploding into sparks beside him.
“Found him!”
someone shouted. Footsteps thundered. George pushed himself to his feet, stumbled into the street — and froze. Two vans screeched to a stop in front of him. Doors flew open.
Masked men poured out. One pointed at George. “That’s him. END IT.”
George ran. Rain blurred everything. His breath tore through his throat. His legs burned. Bullets chased him, hitting cars, walls, metal shutters. He ducked behind a parked bus, panting. A voice called out mockingly:
“You’re finished, Kane! Everyone wants you dead tonight!”
George whispered,
“Yeah… that’s what it feels like.”
He peeked around the bus. A man aimed directly at him. George stepped out, Click. The gun jammed. George didn’t think, he tackled the man into a wall, slammed his head twice, grabbed the fallen pistol, and ran again.
He didn’t get far. A car swerved from nowhere, crushing into him. George rolled over the hood, hit the asphalt hard, and lay there gasping
Three hunters approached. “This is the end, George,”
one said. George spat blood. “You’ve been saying that for years.”
The man raised his gun. “This time, we mean it.”
George closed his eyes.
Then, A child’s voice behind him whispered: “Don’t open your eyes yet.”
George’s eyes snapped open anyway. But the street was gone. The hunters were gone. The rain stopped. He stood in a silent place, a fog stretching forever. George turned slowly.
The child stood there, thin, barefoot, wearing a soaked shirt though there was no rain here. His eyes were too calm for a child. George stared. “Who… are you?”
The boy ignored the question. “You died.”
George frowned. “I can’t be dead. I was still”
“You died,”
the boy repeated softly. “For the sixth time.”
George’s breath caught. “What?”
The fog shifted. Figures formed within it, tall, thin, ghostlike, watching him. Their eyes glimmered like dying stars. One stepped forward. “George Kane. You have fulfilled six cycles.”
George shook his head. “I don’t, I don’t understand.”
The spirit’s voice deepened. “You will.”
George took a step back. “What do you want from me?”
The fog thickened. The spirits answered together: “You.”
George felt something grip his chest, a cold pressure that squeezed his lungs, twisted his ribs, and dragged his soul toward the ground. He fell to his knees, choking. “Stop!”
he gasped. But they didn’t. “You lived brutally,”
the spirits whispered. “You served us well. But you failed our final task. Your death tonight was not destiny, it was your mistake.”
George coughed violently. “Just… send me back. Like before. I can try again.”
The fog stilled. The spirits went silent. Then the boy stepped forward. “George…”
he said quietly. “They can’t send you back again.”
George froze. “…What?”
The boy’s face was blank. “This is the last time. Your final reincarnation. After this… there is nothing.”
George’s heartbeat stuttered “No. No, no, no, you’re lying.”
“I don’t lie,”
the boy said. “I only warn.”
The fog trembled. The spirits lifted their hands. “You will return once more,”
they said. “But only once. Use it well.”
George reached toward them. “Wait, WAIT, THERE’S MORE I NEED TO KNOW!”
But the fog opened beneath him like a pit. He plunged through screaming, and slammed into bright light, screaming air, screaming voices, “Keep pushing! He’s crowning!”
No. No. NO. Not again. Hands lifted him, slapped him, wrapped him in a blanket. A nurse smiled. “A healthy baby boy!”
A doctor asked, “Name?”
The exhausted woman on the bed whispered, “George. His name is George…”
George’s newborn lungs wailed, but his adult soul was breathless with horror. He looked toward the doorway. The boy stood there. Same soaked shirt. Same dead-calm eyes. He whispered:
“Last life, George. Don’t waste it.”
The lights flickered, And the boy vanished. George lay in his mother’s arms, trembling inside a tiny body. For the first time in all six lives…
He was truly afraid. George couldn’t move. His tiny newborn fingers curled helplessly as nurses bustled around the room. All he could do was listen, and think. The boy’s warning echoed like thunder in his skull: “Last life… don’t waste it.”
A nurse leaned over him. “Look at those eyes. So focused.”
George shut his eyes quickly. He didn’t want them seeing how awake he truly was. A man rushed into the ward. “Is he here? Did he come out?”
His father. Young. Tall. Nervous. He touched the baby’s cheek gently. “George… welcome to the world, son.”
George wanted to scream, I’ve been here six times already, but only a soft coo escaped. The doctor cleared his throat. “Congratulations. Healthy boy, strong cry. Everything looks perfect.”
Perfect. George felt anything but perfect. He felt trapped, for the first time in six lives. The nurse lifted him. “We’ll take him for cleaning.”
George was wheeled down a long hallway filled with buzzing lights. Each flicker made him tense. A voice whispered beside him: “You feel it, don’t you?”
George froze. Another infant lay in a nearby crib, but its eyes were open… too open… watching him. No. Not an infant. Something wearing an infant. George whispered inside his mind: What are you?
The newborn’s lips never moved, but the voice echoed directly into his thoughts. “I’ve seen your souls pass through the Veil. Six times.”
George’s chest tightened. Then tell me what’s happening to me. “You’re marked,”
the voice said. “The spirits that brought you back… they don’t bring anyone back without a price.”
George’s heart thudded. What price? Before the creature could answer, a nurse lifted the strange infant away. “Weak little thing,”
she murmured. “Needs observation.”
As the crib rolled away, the infant’s eyes stayed locked on George. Its voice echoed one last time: “You’ll understand soon, George Kane. The seventh life is never merciful.”
The lights above George exploded, spraying sparks. Nurses screamed. The hallway plunged into darkness. George lay in the rolling crib, staring at the ceiling as a cold wind swept through the newborn ward.
And from somewhere deep in the dark… something breathed.
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CHAPTER 14 — WHAT REMAINS AFTER BECOMING
George woke up screaming. Not because of pain. Because of silence. No heartbeat thundered in his ears. No breath burned his lungs. No weight pressed his body into the ground. He opened his eyes.And realized he was floating. Not falling. Not rising. Suspended in a vast, dim expanse that looked like the inside of a forgotten cathedral, pillars of shadow stretching infinitely upward, symbols drifting through the air like ash.George tried to inhale. The instinct was there. The response was not Panic surged. “I can’t breathe,” he said. His voice echoed… then folded back into itself, as if the space had considered his words before allowing them to exist.A second later, realization hit harder than fear. He didn’t need to breathe. George looked down at himself. He still had a body, arms, legs, hands, but they shimmered faintly, like heat rising off asphalt.Veins glowed beneath his skin, pulsing with a deep blue light that wasn’t blood.Memories flickered at the edges of his mind. Not his.
CHAPTER 13 — THE PLACE THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
George did not land. He kept falling. There was no ground. No sky. No sense of direction. Only motion.It felt like being dragged through the inside of a thought that hadn’t been finished yet, half-formed ideas scraping against his skin, whispers brushing past his ears without words.His scream never made a sound. Then, Pain. White-hot and sudden. George slammed into something solid and rolled hard, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. He gasped, clawing at nothing, vision swimming.For a terrifying second, he thought he’d gone blind. Then the world snapped into focus. He lay on cracked stone, etched with symbols that shifted when he tried to look directly at them.Above him stretched a sky that wasn’t a sky at all, a swirling expanse of fractured color, like reality had shattered and someone forgot to clean it up. Asher groaned nearby.George pushed himself up, muscles screaming.“You alive?” George rasped.Asher coughed. “Define alive.George staggered to him, helping him si
CHAPTER 12 — THE ONES WHO KILL GODS
The sky split open. Not with thunder. Not with lightning. It peeled apart, as if reality itself had grown tired of pretending it was whole. George felt it before he saw it. The fragment inside his chest screamed.He staggered backward, breath hitching, as pressure crushed down on him from above. The air thickened, vibrating with an unnatural frequency that rattled his teeth Asher grabbed his arm. “Don’t move.”George laughed weakly. “You say that like I can.”Above them, the clouds spiraled faster, symbols burning brighter, ancient runes spinning like gears in a cosmic machine. Then the first Execution Warden descended.It didn’t fall. It lowered, suspended by invisible force, its massive armored body forged from obsidian-black metal etched with glowing sigils. Its eyes burned a cold, surgical white. No rage. No emotion. Just purpose.George’s pulse thundered. “So those are the Wardens,”he muttered. “They look… friendly.”Asher didn’t smile. “They were created to erase anomalies,”h
CHAPTER 11 — THE DOOR THAT SHOULD NOT OPEN
The candle went out. Not flickered. Not dimmed. It vanished, snuffed by something that hated light. Darkness swallowed the room. George’s instincts screamed. “MOVE!”he shouted. The black wooden door exploded inward. Not with force, but with absence. Space itself tore open, folding inward as shadows poured through like liquid night.The temperature plummeted so fast George’s breath crystallized in his lungs. Asher slammed a hand against George’s chest. “Don’t look directly at it!”Asher barked. Too late. George saw the Sovereign. It did not fully enter the room. It couldn’t. Instead, its presence bled through the doorway, an immense silhouette made of overlapping voids and burning fractures of light.Faces writhed within its form, mouths opening in silent screams. The floor cracked. Walls groaned. The air bent toward it. George dropped to one knee, pain exploding behind his eyes. The fragment inside him reacted.Blue fire flared beneath his skin. “No,”George hissed, clutching his che
CHAPTER TEN THE FINAL LIFE BEGINS
George hit the ground HARD.Air slammed out of his lungs, dust exploding upward as his body skidded across cracked pavement. The world around him spun, blinding light, blaring horns, shouting voices. He lay on his back, staring up at a gray morning sky. Rain clouds choked the horizon. Car tires screeched somewhere nearby.A woman shouted, “HEY! YOU ALMOST HIT HIM!”George groaned, pushing himself up. His bones felt… new. Softer. Younger. The familiar heaviness of a seasoned fighter was gone. His joints didn’t ache. His muscles were lean, not hardened by violence.He wasn’t broken. He wasn’t dying. He wasn’t bleeding. He was alive. And human again. A teenager, maybe seventeen. A crowd gathered around him.“Kid, you alright?”“Should we call someone?”“Is he hurt?”George blinked. Final life… this is my final life. The boy’s last warning echoed like thunder in his skull: “If Asher hesitates even once, RUN.”George staggered to his feet, ignoring the hands reaching to help him. He didn’
CHAPTER NINE THE AWAKENING THAT SHOULD NEVER HAPPEN
George slammed back into existence with a violent jolt, landing on hard stone. His breath ripped from his lungs as a shock of pain shot through his ribs. Darkness surrounded him. Cold. Heavy. Wrong.He coughed, pushing himself upright. The chamber he was in felt ancient, pillars carved with shifting spirals, walls breathing faint silver mist. The air tasted like metal and forgotten prayers. He wasn’t alone.A massive shadow formed behind him. George froze, every muscle locking. “Seventh Soul…”The voice was everywhere. Inside his ears. Inside his skull. Inside his bones. The Sovereign had followed him. “No,”George whispered, backing away. “You shouldn’t be here. The First Soul said”“The First Soul is gone,”the Sovereign rumbled. “The White Layer has broken. You cannot hide anymore.”The temperature dropped so fast George’s breath turned to frost. He forced himself to stand straighter.“You said they built me to end everything,” George spat. “Why me? Why not someone stronger? Smarte
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