The first thing he felt was pain.
Not the dull ache of sickness, not the slow fading of exhaustion—but the sharp, merciless agony of a body being torn apart.
His chest burned.
His lungs screamed.
His heart thundered wildly, as if it were about to explode.
I'm dying.
That was the last clear thought he had as the world collapsed into darkness.
A loud crack shattered the silence.
Air rushed violently into his lungs, choking him as he gasped awake. His eyes snapped open, vision blurred by tears and panic.
He wasn't lying on a hospital bed.
He was lying on cold stone.
A sharp, metallic smell filled his nose—blood. Not just his own. It soaked the ground beneath him, sticky and warm.
Torches flickered overhead, casting long shadows against ancient stone walls carved with strange runes. The ceiling was high, cathedral-like, and broken statues lined the sides of the chamber, their faces eroded by time.
"What… the hell…?"
His voice came out hoarse. Too young.
He froze.
His hands—small, trembling, pale—were not his hands.
His body was smaller. Lighter. Fragile.
Before he could even process that terrifying realization, a cold voice echoed through the chamber.
"The vessel still breathes."
Footsteps approached.
Heavy. Measured. Dangerous.
A group of robed figures emerged from the shadows, their faces hidden behind silver masks etched with symbols he didn't recognize. At their center stood a tall man holding a black staff crowned with a crimson crystal.
The crystal pulsed—thump, thump—in rhythm with his heart.
"Impossible," another voice muttered. "His soul should have shattered."
The tall man raised a hand, silencing the others. His gaze—though hidden—felt like a blade slicing through flesh and bone.
"No," he said calmly. "It survived."
Fear exploded in his chest.
They're talking about me.
Memory flooded in violently, like a dam breaking.
This body belonged to a boy named Ren.
Six years old.
Orphaned.
A child born without status, without backing, without talent.
A child chosen for one reason only—
He could hold it.
Ren remembered now.
This place was called the Sanctum of Seals, a forbidden underground altar used by the highest powers of the continent. No one outside the ruling factions even knew it existed.
And Ren had been dragged here in chains.
"Begin the extraction," the tall man commanded.
"No—!" Ren tried to scream, but his voice cracked, weak and useless.
The crimson crystal blazed.
Pain unlike anything he had ever imagined ripped through him.
It felt as though something was being forced into his soul.
No—six things.
Six overwhelming forces crashed into him at once.
🔥 Fire — wild, destructive, roaring with rage.
❄ Ice — absolute cold, silent and merciless.
⚡ Lightning — violent speed and judgment.
🌱 Life — endless growth and suffocating vitality.
🌑 Shadow — hunger, concealment, devouring darkness.
✨ Divinity — ancient, oppressive, unquestionable authority.
Ren screamed.
Blood poured from his nose, ears, and mouth as glowing symbols burned themselves into his chest—six seals, each rotating slowly, locking themselves into place.
The chamber shook violently.
Cracks spread across the stone floor.
One of the robed figures staggered back. "L-Lord Overseer… the seals are reacting!"
The tall man frowned for the first time.
"Impossible. A mortal child cannot synchronize with even one divine fragment."
Ren's consciousness wavered, but something deep inside him—something not originally his—refused to break.
So this is how I die again?
No.
If death was coming, he wouldn't accept it quietly.
As the six forces tore at his soul, Ren did the only thing he could—
He held on.
Not to power.
Not to life.
But to control.
The divine energies raged like wild beasts, trying to tear free, to consume him, to erase his existence.
And yet—
They stopped.
The seals stabilized.
The chamber went deathly silent.
The crimson crystal cracked.
Everyone froze.
"That's… not possible," someone whispered.
The tall man's grip tightened on his staff. "End it. Kill the vessel. Now."
Before anyone could move—
Ren's eyes snapped open.
They glowed an unnatural frosted blue, flames flickering deep within them.
A pressure exploded outward.
The nearest robed figure was flung into the wall, bones shattering on impact.
"What—?!"
Ren didn't understand what he was doing.
He only knew one thing.
He didn't want to die.
Instinct took over.
Ice formed around his trembling hand—raw, unstable, unfinished—yet sharp enough to cut through steel.
The floor beneath him froze solid.
The torches flickered, half extinguished.
The tall man stepped back, genuine shock slipping into his voice.
"A six-seal resonance… without collapse?"
Ren collapsed to his knees, gasping, the ice shattering into mist.
The power vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Chains clattered to the floor.
Silence.
Then laughter.
Low. Cold.
Dangerous.
The tall man straightened. "Interesting."
He turned to the others. "Leave him."
"What?!" someone protested. "He's unstable! He's a threat!"
"He's an experiment that succeeded," the Overseer replied calmly. "And experiments are more useful alive."
He looked down at Ren.
"Enjoy your borrowed life, child," he said softly. "The seals will kill you… or make you something far worse."
The chamber doors opened.
Darkness swallowed them.
Ren woke up again hours later.
This time, he lay in a filthy alley, rain dripping onto his face. His body burned with fever, and his chest felt heavy—like something ancient was sleeping inside him.
People passed by without looking twice.
No one cared.
No one knew.
Ren clenched his small fist, feeling faint traces of cold swirl beneath his skin.
Six seals.
Six powers.
And a future that would either crush him—or burn the world apart.
He whispered to the rain,
"I won't die again."
And somewhere deep within his soul—
The seals stirred.