Soul's Eye

Chapter 0: Boredom.

Boredom.

A sensation he had always known. From the day he was born until the day he died, he felt nothing but this: an immense emptiness, as fascinating as it was repulsive. Neither his first steps, nor his first words, nor the years that followed changed anything. From childhood to adulthood, from his awakening to his sponsorship, from the fall of his family to that of his nation... nothing broke the monotony. Until this moment.

As his own blade sank into his heart, he felt neither fear nor regret. Despite the heart-rending cries echoing around him, no sadness reached him. The future had been snatched from him, and yet, for the first time in his existence... he no longer felt this emptiness.

In a final effort, he turned his head toward the abomination that had taken his life. She too was a dying carcass, awaiting her last breath. A smile played across her lips, cracked and stained with blood. In a barely audible voice, he murmured a simple thank-you.

No recipient. No reason. He just wanted to say it—to this world that had welcomed him.

Then his eyelids closed, his body bathed in a pool of scarlet. The world faded. The last sensations vanished.

The red behind his eyelids gave way to a deep, unfathomable black. A laugh escaped his lips. A pure, sincere joy he had never known before.

Until a voice broke the silence.

"Do you really think death will let you escape me?"

His body froze. He was facing it. Facing her.

"Taking my appearance again? How petty."

Her voice was hoarse, brittle. His eyes darkened, his features tensed. A new emotion took hold of him: Sorrow. Apprehension.

"Why?! Why won't you leave me?!" he screamed.

No response.

Around him, lights appeared—small, like stars in a night sky. They gathered, forming constellations, galaxies... a universe.

"What do you want from me?!"

Still silence.

The universe shattered, fragments bursting outward before recomposing into two distinct clusters.

"Stop it! Please!"

His voice faltered, trembling, pleading. Still, she didn't look at him.

The two constellations began to orbit him.

"I'm begging you. I just want to—"

Her voice cracked. Fragile. Desperate. Like a child begging for mercy that would never come.

But again... nothing.

His body began to glow. Her soul—naked, exposed to infinity—shone brighter than all the stars around her.

They plunged into her, absorbing her.

Her figure trembled, disintegrating into stardust. Every fragment of her being was drawn into the light.

"I just want to rest..."

Those were his last words.

All that remained was an immaculately white sphere, floating in the darkness. The being that had watched him silently now dissolved, its fragments drawn toward the sphere.

"I'm sorry..." he murmured, just before disappearing.

Then the sphere changed. It deformed, undulated, twisted—as if something inside were resisting. But it wasn't enough.

The waves settled. Colors emerged. Patterns. Shapes. Then... it was no longer a sphere. It was a fruit.

The fruit fell.

First through the void. Then through a sky. Until it hit the ground.

And in that instant— he woke up.

No.

I woke up.

===

The first thing I felt was the grass beneath my body. Soft. Cool. As if nothing else existed.

Then a smell reached me. Acrid. Metallic. Blood.

My heart skipped a beat as my world expanded beyond this fragile haven.

What had happened?

My head throbbed. My breath was short, broken, wheezing. My eyes felt like they were about to burst. My eardrums buzzed.

A cacophony of high-pitched and droning sounds flooded my skull. My body trembled, too weak to carry me.

I felt blood trickling over my skin. Scars, barely healed, itched like nettles.

All my weight pressed on broken ribs. Each breath was a fight.

I pushed against the earth with my right arm—the least damaged—and rolled onto my back.

That was all I could manage. So I lay there, eyes half-closed, listening.

But there was no wind. No birdsong. No footsteps.

The city was dead.

Only the buzzing in my ears remained. And the smell.

It clung to my skin—metallic, bitter. Not just blood. Something else. Burned stone. Scorched wood. Something ancient.

I turned my head slowly. Each movement scraped pain across my ribs like broken glass.

Trees. Bent. Blackened. The grass was red in places. Or white. Ashes.

I blinked. No city. No tower. No market stalls.

Where...

My thoughts were blurred. Nothing made sense.

Then I saw it.

A few meters away— a hollow in the ground. Still smoking.

At its center: a fruit. Round. Golden. Cracked.

My mouth went dry.

And in that moment, I was certain— I had seen it from the inside.

I... I am hungry.

My lips trembled. I wasn't cold. I didn't feel pain.

It was something else. A craving. A thirst. Not for water.

My eyes locked on the fruit.

I tried to look away. I couldn't.

It was cracked. Still steaming. Its golden skin streaked with strange, vein-like patterns—like writing I couldn't decipher. It pulsed. Softly.

Not like a heartbeat. It was a heartbeat.

And I felt it.

Somewhere deep, beneath my ribs—it resonated.

Calm. Slow. Dissonant. But closer. Closer.

I swallowed. Dry.

It didn't stop. The pulsing was inside me now. Deeper with every second.

Not painful. Not pleasant.

Just there.

Insistent. Undeniable.

I sat up. My hands pressed into the ground. Joints creaking. But the pain— was gone.

I'm hungry.

The grass was damp beneath my fingers, sticky with something that might not have been water.

My eyes returned to the fruit.

I should have been afraid. I should have run.

But something was changing.

The hunger grew.

Not in my stomach. In my chest.

A thread pulled me forward. My body was no longer entirely mine.

I moved.

Not out of choice. Out of need.

Knees in the dirt. One trembling hand after the other. I crawled.

Breath shallow. Vision dimming.

The fruit shimmered as I drew closer, as though my presence fed it.

When I finally reached it, I could no longer think.

I reached out— hands trembling, fragile.

And I ate it.