Aghhh!
What… what's happening?
No, what is this…
my body…!
Oren Xianrath's eyes widened as his wounded torso jerked against an oak beam, tattered and scarred.
His long, dishevelled black hair spilled across his face as regret seeped into his hollow, golden eyes.
Inside the austere attic of a cathedral house, he remained motionless.
A final silence filled his grave.
But unlike a traditional grave, it was not soil that embraced him, nor a coffin that held his body, but splintered wood and fractured stone.
Oren's pale skin had turned ashen, and his dim golden eyes were glassy and fragile, faintly swollen as life seemed to seep from him with every passing moment.
Time dragged. The floor beneath him had become a dark, crimson pool, soaked through with blood.
Through the jagged opening above, the dark grey sky loomed ominously.
Beneath the bloodied crater, around Oren, warped beams and shattered planks leaned precariously, as if the structure above might collapse at any moment.
That did not worry, all that mattered to Oren was his state.
Fragments of stone surrounded his severed body.
Countless limbs had detached, scattered ligaments and muscles strewn across the floor with the torn fabric of the dark robe he had worn since birth.
Only his torso and head remained attached.
Yet somehow, despite the cruel and visceral sight, he was alive.
A being like him, someone of divinity, should not face irreparable damage so easily. But for some odd reason, Oren felt as though he would not recover from this.
That understandin stirred an unfathomable coldness within him.
Move! Move now dammit! he thought.
Oren demanded his body to move, but it refused.
Damn the heavens. Am I really going to die here? In a world I do not even belong to?
A heavy breath escaped his torn lips.
The scent of iron lingered, the air tasted metallic.
It was true.
He did not belong in this place, let alone this world.
Oren had fallen into the world, then into the clock face of the cathedral house.
His arrival had been grand but short-lived .
It seemed the mortals did not agree. Because outside, at the edge of the third outskirt district, the outskirt men and women roared in panic.
Their voices were heavy with dread and fear, and the mere rumour of an invasion, that the light festival was in jeopardy, stirred them into turmoil.
Envy filled his eyes as he heard every worried shout from outside the ruin he had made.
How he wished to be full of life like those mortals. How he wanted to get up and move.
Walk, laugh, shout, and eat.
Indulge, cry, and experience the best of life.
The simple things mattered more to him than anything he had ever possessed.
But maybe, just maybe, if he had been born a mortal man instead of a damned divine being, this would have never happened.
An entity like him was a rarity, yet the common among the rare were common nonetheless.
Oren's face scrunched in pain, the myriad emotions overwhelming him.
He did not mind going even lower if it meant living, if he had never used the treacherous anchor.
That is why I am here.
Oren had used it to return home, he had utilised the anchor forged at birth, forged intricately into his soul.
The inexplicable shift he had felt upon using the anchor was a warning he had ignored.
He recalled initiating the ethereal anchor in the depths of his being, using it to survive yet another catastrophic situation.
Then the sudden darkness that came upon the anchor's use, the shift, and the moments upon entering the vast and extraordinary world he now faced.
If he recalled correctly, from the revered stories, this realm, was a revos verum.
Its most known name was a ruined realm.
The former, revos verum, was used in fairy tales and older stories.
It directly meant ruined realm.
This was the term people used when reminiscing about childhood stories. But to think a place like this was real…
Like mortal myths, a ruined realm was a divine myth, meant not to truly exist.
He glanced at a piece of torn cloth and chuckled in irony.
But what escaped his mouth was wretched laugh that clawed against the air.
Unsettling at the very least.
Oren could not help but laugh through the pain and question it.
From what he had seen while falling from the outer atmosphere, it was a world larger than any other.
Mountains surrounded cities. Great borders protected lands. A grand sea connected civilisations.
What was shown to him upon entering the revos verum was not ruined at all, or was it only like that to decieve him...
Oren's body shivered faintly.
Only when he questioned it did the world outside the crater seem look unthathemably darker.
The pool of blood beneath him had long formed into a river, flooding the attic as his battered ears gradually muted the world.
His thoughts faltered, then his chest tightened.
When his torso finally relaxed, the memories accompanying death emerged before him.
The blood loss made every memory feel like an illusion, a hallucination to keep him entertained.
One lingering factor remained.
Death...
Oren groaned as blood and several unknown organs erupted from his mouth, making his mind flash with one singular thought.
His death. He had wanted peace, and now he was given death.
Knowing the inevitable was soon to come, he frowned, ever since he had fallen into this word, he had been filled with an immense regret.
And though knowing it was all pointless, somehow, some way, Oren's pitiful thoughts lingered.
How could he not feel regret? How could he not feel at all?
Oren was unsure how he was meant to react.
He felt sadness, hate, and fury, but also... failure.
A wistful breath escaped his torn lips, as his abyss golden eyes darkened a shade.
Upon recalling his reason, he felt empty.
In the end, true peace, eternal rest even, remained beyond his reach.
Oren had squandered his life, forcing himself down a solitary path that would never soothe his soul.
An ignorance that persisted even in his final moments.
His abyssal golden eyes gleamed coldly as he looked up through tangled beams and chipped wood.
He watched as the sun rose. Hours, days maybe.
Oren could not account for the time that had passed.
The few sights he saw were mesmerising, the grey clouds loomed over the great city.
Further away, five verdant mountains stood in formation, chained around the great Unison City like a fortress carved by nature.
Their peaks were veiled by clouds the colour of ash, faint light shimmering through.
Oren's body twitched suddenly.
He heard a splash, then a figure standing beyond the shattered beams of the attic.
Too distant to see, just like the sunrise.
For in the end, Oren Xianrath never saw the radiant sun reach its zenith.