The Creation of Death Itself
> They broke him piece by piece, mistaking silence for weakness. Now he moves like ruin itself, a mirror of the cruelty they fed him.
Raikiri entered his room. He was curious about what would be inside of this cool-named book.
It was already too late, so he fell asleep.
The next day, in the evening, he finally decided to read it.
He sat at his study table, placed the book in the middle, and opened The White Dimension.
"I've never heard of this guy," Raikiri said as he read the name of the author — The Silent Pen.
"Oh! It looks like it is a story. Okay, let's look at that, as it's my only hope for now," Raikiri said with curiosity.
It read...
---
I was born as a human, loved everyone who was nice to me. I was good at painting and loved to do it whenever I had time.
My parents loved me. I loved them too.
Everyone wanted me to be a swordsman — my family too — but I was not good with the sword.
I was bad.
Mr. Haruki, my tutor, tried his best, teaching me everything he knew from his experience with swords.
Being a swordsman was noble at that time. My parents wanted me to achieve that level and become one, to make them proud.
I tried, worked hard, practiced, remained consistent.
Nothing changed for two years.
I reduced my sleep hours and practiced the skill with all I had.
I just wanted to make them happy and proud of me.
I worked my body off.
Everything was the same.
I left my passion for painting for what I was made for and put that time into striking with the sword.
I was futile — totally a waste.
My parents began to lose hope in me.
I stopped sleeping and used that time for sword fighting.
I began to lose myself, but I didn't stop.
I gave it everything — heart, soul, and sleepless nights — but nothing changed.
But I still couldn't beat the people at my level.
Everything... was... in... vain.
I used up six years of my youth mastering a skill I didn't like.
I was soft. I didn't like killing anyone. I was not a killer by nature.
After six years, I was the same at swordsmanship as I was six years back.
My mind was lost. My parents lost their hope in me. They began treating me like I never worked for their interest.
I wanted to kill everyone so that i could stay and slowly live my life but that was something illogical in this birth i guess
I felt miserable.
All my friends were now well-known swordsmen, but I...
was weak — good for nothing.
I hated living.
I didn't want to wake up in the morning.
I found it hard to get even a little sleep.
It was suffering — until one day, I decided that I would begin to paint again.
I picked up the brush and began to draw.
To my surprise, my hand trembled. The brush no longer obeyed me — it was as if I had never painted before. It was a hit to my soul. It hurt me quite a lot.
I failed at the only thing I was good at, too.
What a dead weight!
Oh, about my family...
My father treated me like I was an intruder living illegally in their house. My mother stopped talking to me too.
I decided that I would leave my home.
I left, only leaving a note that I would come back when I got better — which was now a contradictory statement in itself.
I will never come back here ever again.
I went to Mr. Haruki's house — my tutor.
He was the only one who never judged me.
He loved me like his own child.
He taught me even though he knew I wasn't improving at all.
He often fed me tasty food, which I enjoyed.
As I reached there, I found out that he had passed away due to some disease.
I didn't cry...
But...
My tears... fell from my eyes.
I was neither happy nor sad — not even angry.
I was blank. Nothing. No emotion.
It was the first time I realized there was something wrong with my emotions.
But there was a good thing. I found Mrs. Takahashi there.
She was Mr. Haruki's wife.
She was a noble lady with a kind heart.
She loved me as much as Mr. Haruki.
I asked her if I could stay there, as I was now only a vagabond.
She agreed, just as I thought.
I began helping the swordsmen who came there after wars, as my tutor was a former leader of the Hono warriors.
I found out that a girl liked me.
She looked gorgeous.
I often talked with her whenever she came.
Soon, we became close friends.
We began to go together to various places.
She was someone I didn't want to lose in this life.
She was one of the few people I respected.
She was a kind soul, a person with beautiful thoughts and a lovable heart.
I was not a swordsman, but I could teach something about it — that was how I earned money.
One day, when Hono warriors came, I saw that their number had reduced to half.
I had lost my curious mind long ago, hence I didn't mind — until I began seeing her less after that day.
On that day, she was not there with them.
Three months passed. I never saw her again.
I had a friend among the Hono warriors named Souta Shirakawa.
I asked him about that girl who wore black clothes.
His words were as deep as a katana's slice —
They tore away my remaining soul and stabbed my heart thousands of times.
They took one piece of my heart and chopped it.
That girl,
in a fight with three swordsmen, was
brutally... killed.
Again, I didn't weep. Only my eyes turned red — eyes filled with tears.
My heart began to hurt so wildly that I had never experienced it before.
She was the reason I was learning a new emotion called love, but...
I was falling into an abyss, slowly drowning, suffering, but observing it all in seclusion.
After a few days, when the Hono warriors were coming to visit the Rujin Mountain — the place where Haruki's house stood —
I went to Tetsuba Village to collect some new swords from the blacksmith.
Those swords were a piece of art — something I could only feel now.
I returned to the house with a quiet mind, holding the new swords in hand.
The sun was setting behind the Rujin Mountains, painting the sky orange — calm, peaceful...
Until I smelled smoke.
My heart skipped.
I dropped the swords.
The house... our house... was on fire.
I ran, faster than my mind could process.
Blood smeared the walls. The door was open, swinging slightly in the wind.
Inside, the flames danced like demons.
And there, in the heart of the chaos...
A sight that dragged my soul to the deepest point of the abyss —
An abyss sealed inside me since birth, one not meant to be opened.
Mrs. Takahashi...
She was stabbed brutally.
That sight was the only thing that made me tear up.
I wasn't crying. I only tried to — but even sorrow had left me.
I was alone… again.
This time, I lost every fragment of my soul.
I fell to my knees. My pupils went blank.
I was senseless.
I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, I was beneath a tree.
A person was sitting beside me.
He was Souta Shirakawa — my friend.
He wasn't fine either.
He was wounded, but not deeply enough to die.
"No mercy is served to us. First, it was her… now it's everyone — except me, who just ran away,"
said Souta, coughing blood.
"Hey... I know an abandoned hut nearby. We should go there before someone finds us too and kills us,"
he said, pointing his finger in the direction of a forest.
I told him to do whatever was good for his health.
We both entered the forest.
We were safe there, as many considered it cursed. No one dared come.
We soon found an old hut. It was very dusty.
We saw a room that was heavily secured, locked with multiple locks.
"There could be gold inside… or something important that could help us later. We should open it,"
said Souta.
I didn't respond.
He opened the room.
It was empty — except for one large box.
There were carvings on it in the shape of stars arranged in a square.
Each star was at a corner of the square, and in the center were three dots.
There was a notice on the box:
Do not get close. Do not touch.
Souta began to approach it.
I told him not to go too close — it could be some kind of witchcraft.
Then came a loud noise.
"The last survivor is inside the house! Kill him now!" many voices shouted.
"Ah ,what a foolish life this is… I guess this is farewell.
My friend _ _ _ , go live for me — and don't you get killed for me ; brother ,"
Souta said in a serious tone.
"I will kill all of them, and then we will meet again," he said, moving toward me.
He hugged me.
I hadn't been held like that in years.
For a second, the world paused — and then cracked open.
It was pure love from a true friend to his partner.
I went blank again…
Felt senseless again.
He opened the door and locked me inside.
That was the last time I saw him.
Now I was alone — hopeless, good for nothing — sitting near the box.
I looked at my life.
My life was a burden to everyone.
A dead weight.
Tears began to fall from my eyes, but I didn't know why.
I was weeping, but I felt no emotion.
I was a swordsman… but now, it meant nothing.
People had died because of me — directly or indirectly.
Suddenly, my eyes widened.
I was calm now.
Nothing was moving.
I was touching the imprints on the box.
It was a new world —
A world where I was calm.
Painless.
Even as a child, I sometimes dreamt of a place with no sky… only white fog.
I thought it was just my imagination.
I was wrong.
I was there. Alone.
It was a simple place of nothingness.
"This place is my home," I said.
There was a gem in my hand. I didn't know where it came from.
I exerted some force on it — and it vanished.
Dark red particles began to exit my body.
A feeling of death entered me.
A feeling ,I was made for since birth.
A feeling that made me feel… nothingness
I finally realized there was no Almighty anymore.
We killed Him too.
We — humans — killed Him too .
People won't die now ,they will die when I want them to die
I now proclaim myself with a new identity.
A new name —
Shinkan — The Creation of Death Itself.
I didn't write this book ,it created itself
This place is what you call...
The White Dimension.
To be continued.....