I didn't know how reality morphed into this, but I do know how it will ultimately end — in death.
Lutz's POV
It was a dreary, rain-soaked day as I worked on my conclusion. My grandfather once told me, "A person is remembered by their conclusion, not by their beginning or the bulk of their story."
So, I tried to do better. I stopped mindlessly scrolling on my phone, resisted being molded by outside forces. But deep down, I knew everything was finite. I'm neither brilliant nor powerful — just an unremarkable guy. School was manageable. But there was always this obscure sensation anchored in my chest — something off, something fundamentally wrong.
I buried it. I shouldn't have.
The situation I'm in now is... how do I even put this... slightly complicated.
It first emerged in middle school, shortly after I turned sixteen. Over the years, it festered and expanded until, by seventeen, it had entirely consumed me.
I saw nothing but darkness. A darkness that seemed intent on devouring me. My surroundings began to distort — once-black tones faded into grey and eventually erupted into a brilliant white shimmer. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was a striking girl with raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes. Her attire had the unmistakable edge of an assassin.
I heard voices.
One person barked:
"Get him out of here!"
Another murmured:
"If you survive, we'll meet again someday."
And then, from afar — a third, whose glacial gaze pierced me from thirty meters away
"If he survives, I'll buy everyone a beer."
"Ryuen, don't say stuff like that," said a tall woman with emerald-green eyes.
"I mean it—"
BOOM!
A deafening explosion shattered the tension. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was a hulking metal sphere ripping through the wooden wall like it was paper.
When I came to, the only thought that rang in my head was:
Where the hell am I… and did I just die back there?
It felt exactly like something out of a novel — some kind of reincarnation into another world.
The other thought that struck me was:
I can't see shit.
No matter where I looked, all I could make out was pitch-black nothingness.
After what felt like an eternity — maybe an hour — I finally heard footsteps echoing louder and louder. A door creaked open, and in stepped a beautiful woman, probably in her twenties. The sudden burst of light engulfed the room, allowing me to see myself for the first time in what seemed like ages.
My hands were smaller than an apple; my feet looked like oversized erasers. The expression of dismay that spread across my face was indescribable.
She approached with a stern demeanor — you could tell immediately she was the authority in this place. Lifting me by the back, she carried me down a narrow corridor. The walls were oppressive and reeked faintly of stale urine. At the end of the hallway was a partition leading into a modest room.
There stood a small table, laid with fresh bread, a steaming stew brimming with potatoes and chunks of meat, and pitchers filled with water. A blond-haired man with icy blue eyes sat beside it, silently observing our every move.
The woman greeted him briefly, then headed straight to a cupboard to retrieve plates and spoons. She served the stew, handing one bowl to the man and keeping one for herself.
Once seated, with me resting on her lap, they began to speak.
This is how I ended up here — in a world I don't understand, surrounded by strangers, inside what I can only describe as a rather impoverished household.