NOVEL WEB Chapter 1: Ashes of the Past
Rain fell like static from a dying sky, soaking the glitch-lit streets of Metro Nyos in oil, blood, and light. Skyscrapers loomed like silent gods, their cracked windows flashing with broken billboards.
Matt Salurga sat alone beneath a rusted arcade canopy, hoodie drenched, bruised knuckles trembling. Ozone clung to him like a warning.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
Still alive.
His breath came sharp. Ragged. His chest drummed like war. Another blackout. Another fight. Another body on the ground—and Matt didn't remember the hit.
Only the aftermath:
Broken ribs.
Blood that wasn't his.
A void rising inside.
Something else had taken over.
It always did.
He glanced at a flickering terminal screen beside him. For a second, the static cleared—and something looked back. Not his face.
Something colder.
Eyes like collapsing stars.
"Still alive, huh?"
Grey Saimon's voice cut through the storm, too casual. He tossed a can of cold coffee. Matt didn't catch it.
Grey sat beside him, cigarette still lit despite the rain. "You're two-for-two this week. Want me to start a killboard?"
Matt said nothing. His fingers still shook.
Grey studied him. "You ever think you're cursed?"
Matt flinched. Not because he was offended—because that word hurt.
Cursed.
Dreams again. Dreams he couldn't shake.
Screams from burning skies.
A sword of black fire.
A name whispered across time: Nyuga. Nitine. Amiya.
Every dream hollowed him further.
"I'm not cursed," he muttered.
"Then what the hell's going on?"
Matt's jaw clenched. "I don't know."
That was a lie.
---
At their apartment, Mailane Minari moved through her sword forms like a storm pretending to be still. Shadows danced at the blade's edge. Her bare feet whispered across tile.
The door clicked open.
Matt entered, soaked. Silent. Bruised.
"You fought again," she said.
"He started it."
"You ended it. With force that cracks pavement."
"I'm trying."
"Try harder."
Her voice was firm—never cruel. Concern came in blades, not blankets. Then she stepped close, touched his wrist. Her fingers shimmered. The bruises faded.
"I'm here," she whispered.
And for a moment, the world warmed.
Then it broke.
---
A scream.
Not human. Not now.
The apartment vanished. Fire replaced it.
Ash. Gods. Falling cities. A battlefield older than memory.
He stood in a dream that wasn't a dream.
Paladins tore through the heavens. A child hid beneath floorboards, sobbing in a language Earth forgot.
It was him.
Matt!
Mailane's voice snapped him back.
He collapsed, choking. Blood and black mist spilled from his throat.
Grey grabbed him. "DUDE! What the hell?!"
Matt looked up.
No whites. No pupils.
Only swirling void.
Then the room exploded.
---
Elsewhere, between realms—
Five figures watched a mirrored storm.
"He's remembering," said Monshin behind his ivory mask.
"We should've erased the soul," growled Thermuz.
"We tried," whispered Analice. She sipped black fire from a goblet. "But the Nitine soul clings."
Nimistran's many eyes blinked. "Let him awaken. Let him hate. Hate is a leash."
Arshimest said nothing. He crushed a glowing crystal.
A realm died.
The hunt had begun.
---
Matt awoke in a crater.
Ash in the air.
No apartment.
No Grey. No Mailane.
Only a hilt in his hand.
Black. Breathing. Whispering.
> "Welcome back, my executioner."
The Void had spoken.
And Matt wasn't afraid.
He was home.