Shadow Slave: Prince of Fiction

Elias knew he was dead. He remembered the blinding headlights of the truck, the sound of tires screeching, and the sharp, panicked cries from the street. Then, the world had gone black. The silence was overwhelming, and for a moment, Elias thought he would be lost forever in the void. But instead of feeling the cold of death, he felt... nothing. There was no pain, no fear—just a profound stillness.

He opened his eyes to an expanse of pure white, stretching endlessly in every direction. No sky. No horizon. No sign of life or death—just a never-ending, featureless void. He stood, but there was no ground beneath him. The sensation was surreal, like floating without weight or form. He should have been terrified, yet something about the place felt strangely peaceful.

"Welcome, Elias Solace," a voice suddenly called out, so powerful that it seemed to vibrate through the air itself. The sound was neither male nor female but omnipotent—an essence that resonated with the core of his being.

Elias spun around, eyes wide, but saw no one. There was no source for the voice, just the eerie presence of its force.

A figure materialized before him—vague, like an embodiment of light itself, shifting in its form as though it were not bound by physical laws. The being's presence was overwhelming.

"You are dead," the voice continued, calm and unhurried. "But your death is not the end. I offer you a chance—a new beginning, in a different world."

Elias blinked, confused. "Who... Who are you?" he asked hesitantly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The figure seemed to smile, though its features were impossible to decipher. "You may call me God, or perhaps the Architect, if you prefer. I am the keeper of all realities, a creator of worlds, and a destroyer of limitations."

Elias could not fathom what he was hearing. "A new world? You mean... I can live again?" His voice quivered.

The Architect nodded slowly. "Indeed. I offer you a second chance, but it comes at a cost. You will enter a world that is much harsher than your own—Eckhart."

"Eckhart...?" Elias repeated. He had heard of it before. A fictional world. The world of Shadow Slave.

The Architect's form flickered as if amused. "Yes. The very one. I chose you because you are familiar with it. You know its dangers and its rewards. But now, you must step into it, live it, and embrace it as your reality."

Elias's heart raced. "You mean... I'm going to be trapped there? In that world? With all the nightmares and creatures?"

"Not trapped," the Architect replied. "You will be a part of it, yes, but not a mere observer. You will be a player in the grand game. The world will challenge you in ways you cannot yet understand. Your survival will depend on your choices, your strength, and your will. In return, you will be granted a power—a unique ability to give you the advantage you need."

Elias felt his mind spinning. He had read about Shadow Slave, but never had he imagined being part of it. The thought of facing monsters and otherworldly horrors filled him with dread, but at the same time, there was something undeniably thrilling about it. He could almost taste the adventure.

"What kind of power?" Elias asked, now curious, but wary.

The Architect waved a hand, and before Elias, several symbols appeared, glowing with an otherworldly light. Each symbol pulsed with a unique energy.

The first was a swirling mass of black shadows that seemed to shift and twist like smoke—the power of darkness.

The second symbol was a bright, blinding star—pure energy manipulation, a force of destructive might.

The third was a gear, golden and intricate, turning in space—time manipulation, the ability to alter the flow of time itself.

The final symbol was a simple circle, empty and void, but with an unsettling aura. The circle seemed to swallow itself, pulling everything into it. It was the most mysterious, the most dangerous. All Fiction—the power to erase anything from existence, even concepts, ideas, and the very fabric of reality.

Elias stared at the symbols. The first one—the power of darkness—was tempting but too reminiscent of the power wielded by Sunny in Shadow Slave. He didn't want to be just another copy of someone else's strength. The second, the star, was powerful and beautiful, but it lacked subtlety. Energy might be flashy, but Elias knew from experience that brute strength was often not enough. The third, time manipulation, was appealing, but also incredibly complex. Could he really understand and wield it without causing irreversible damage?

His gaze finally rested on the last symbol—the circle. The empty void. All Fiction. He recognized it instantly. It was from Medaka Box, a world that held its own kind of logic. The power to erase anything, everything. Concepts, objects, even memories and people. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. With this power, Elias could become a god—controlling reality itself.

"I choose All Fiction," Elias declared, his voice filled with resolve.

The Architect's expression shifted, almost imperceptibly. "A dangerous choice, but a fitting one. All Fiction allows you to erase anything from existence. People, objects, ideas, even truths can be wiped clean from the fabric of the world. But beware—every time you use it, you lose a part of yourself. Your connection to reality weakens. If you abuse it, you risk erasing yourself from existence entirely."

Elias nodded. He understood the risks, but he was confident. He had always believed that with great power came great responsibility. This was no different.

"Go now," said the Architect, its voice echoing through the void. "Step into Eckhart, and shape your destiny. But remember—nothing is as it seems. The truth is often the first casualty in this world, and survival depends on your ability to adapt. Go, Elias Solace, and remember: you are the master of your own fate."

Elias felt a sudden pressure in his chest, as if he were being pulled in every direction at once. His vision blurred, his body felt weightless, and then everything went black.

He awoke with a sudden jolt, his body jerking upright as if yanked from the very depths of a nightmare. His head was heavy, his limbs weak and unfamiliar. He took a moment to orient himself, but when he looked down, he saw something that made his heart stop.

His hands were small, his fingers slender and youthful. His body was that of a teenager—light and agile, but not his own. Panic surged through him, and he quickly glanced at his reflection in a broken piece of glass.

A strange face stared back at him. Dark, messy hair, sharp cheekbones, and eyes filled with a mixture of determination and confusion. He didn't recognize the face, but it felt familiar at the same time. It was... his new face.

○○○

!!This fanfiction is solely written by AI. It's just something I always wanted to try!!