"Well, he's undeniably a villain," whispered the aged voice, barely louder than the creaking of the chair beneath him. The words fell from parched lips, each syllable tinged with regret and revelation. In his hands, Yassine cradled the mysterious book as if it were both a relic and a curse.
The room was cloaked in gloom, lit only by the book's persistent golden glow. The cover—still untitled, still authorless—bore symbols that shifted when one tried to look directly at them, dancing like spirits just beyond comprehension. It was a book that should never have existed, yet it was now as much a part of Yassine as the cancer in his lungs.
He exhaled, a wheeze hitching in his chest, and leaned closer to the flickering pages. The script within shimmered, not written in ink, but something far more alive—threads of light that moved when he blinked, morphing with each passing second, never the same, yet somehow always legible.
It had shown him a world beyond his own, a realm governed by chaos and raw power. It had exposed him to the grandeur of destruction and the fragile hope of salvation. But above all, it had left him with one inexorable truth:
He was not a visitor.
He was a participant.
Nine months earlier, he had been a man of science. Logic. Structure. Everything had rules, even the inexorable clock ticking down his life.
Within the labyrinthine halls of the city's largest hospital, a doctor with a sympathetic visage delivered a grim proclamation to Yassine. "Mr. Yassine, there's no easy way to say this... You have been afflicted with an incurable cancer that ravages your lungs."
Silence hung heavy in the room, the weight of those words bearing down upon the illustrious scientist. The doctor's voice trembled as he continued, "Even with the most aggressive treatments, chemotherapy might offer you a mere year if you're fortunate enough..."
Yassine sat in silence, his mind drifting to the phone that slipped through his trembling fingers moments before. The doctor's words faded into the void, replaced by the deafening echo of his own mortality. It wasn't the fear of death that gripped him, but the wrenching realization that his life's purpose remained unfulfilled.
The 'New Life' project, a beacon of hope for a world teetering on the precipice of despair, now hung in limbo. Yassine carried the weight of humanity's aspirations upon his shoulders, knowing he could not succumb until he brought his grand vision to fruition. And so, he chose the path of torment, subjecting himself to the grueling ordeal of chemotherapy, sacrificing his final days with loved ones in favor of relentless pursuit to complete his life work.
Eight arduous months slipped away, lost in a haze of tireless research and unyielding desperation. Yassine poured his dwindling strength into his laboratory, delving deeper into the abyss of his obsession. Yet, despite his unwavering dedication, breakthroughs eluded him like whispers slipping through grasping fingers.
It was on a night like any other, when hope had been reduced to a flickering ember, that Yassine found himself succumbing to exhaustion. The weight of failure bore down upon him, and he succumbed to a fitful sleep, slumbering upon his desk.
In the depths of his weariness, a blinding flash seared through the darkness, jolting Yassine from his restless sleep. Startled awake, his eyes widened as they beheld a mysterious book resting on the desk before him.
An irresistible allure radiated from its cover, an unseen gravity that pulled at Yassine's soul with silent insistence. It was not hunger. It was not need. It was command. The book did not ask to be opened. It expected to be.
Yassine stared at it, his breath shallow, chest rising and falling with the tempo of mounting dread. This was not a book of his. He knew it—felt it. It didn't belong to him. It didn't even belong to reality. Its presence was foreign, wrong in ways language could never contain. It hummed, not with sound, but with vibration—like a note struck on an alien instrument beyond human perception.
With cautious deliberation, Yassine extended a trembling hand. His fingers, veined and brittle with age, curled around the spine as if it might vanish at the last moment.
The moment flesh met leather, the world ruptured.
A blinding surge of light erupted from the book's surface, forcing Yassine to shield his eyes. It wasn't light—it was annihilation. Sound, thought, time itself were stripped away in the flood of radiance.
He gasped, but the sound was swallowed whole.
"Oh, my… God…"
Then, silence.
The light collapsed like a dying star. And when it did, Yassine was no longer in his office. He floated in open air beneath an alien sky—one daubed in colors no Earthly spectrum could explain, hues that whispered of madness.
Below him stretched a land of nightmares: mountains like jagged spines, valleys yawning like open maws, and air that shimmered as though reality itself was melting.
But it wasn't the terrain that stole his breath.
It was the ocean.
Not of water—but of war swarming with creatures that twisted and shifted in ways that hurt the eye. Some had too many limbs. Others had none at all. Shapes that didn't belong in any world Yassine had ever known.
And in that ocean of monsters, a war was raging.
He couldn't count how many races were fighting. But seven of them stood out—massive, terrifying, powerful. And a familiar species __ Humans.
Boom!!
Clash!!
The sky shook with every strike. Explosions ripped the ground apart. Screams of pain and fury echoed endlessly.
What is this place? Yassine thought, unable to look away. Is this… real?
He watched, stunned, as a human warrior with long hair leapt into the chaos. The man held a huge sword glowing with raw energy. With one mighty swing, he unleashed a wave of power that soared a hundred meters high. It ripped through thousands of enemies, cutting a mountain clean in half.
Yassine's eyes widened. That power… it's beyond anything I've ever seen. Is that really a human?
But then, in a flash, it was over.
A red-skinned giant dropped from the sky. Horns like jagged crowns. Muscles like steel. It grabbed the warrior mid-air, crushed his body like paper, and tossed him into the abyss.
No… Yassine felt his heart sink. Even they can die that easily?
His gaze swept across the battlefield. Two sides. On one, humans and their allies—four other races, all fighting together. On the other, fewer in number, but far more dangerous. Red-skinned giants and winged monsters, like dragons from a nightmare, spewing fire that melted everything in their path.
It doesn't matter how many they have, Yassine realized. This war isn't about armies. It's about monsters. About the strongest… and the deadliest.
He shivered.
The allied side—they're powerful, but not enough. They're being pushed back. Time's running out.
Suddenly, something yanked him forward—like a hook in his chest. He floated across the ruined landscape until he reached a quiet clearing far from the chaos.
Two figures stood there. One human, sword in hand. The other, a towering figure with black, stone-like skin and curled horns. They faced each other in stillness, the air between them thick with tension.
Why aren't they fighting? Are they talking?
Yassine couldn't understand the words. Their language was strange and heavy, filled with power. But the feeling was clear. This wasn't a conversation. It was a warning.
The human raised his sword. It pulsed with energy, the air around it warping and trembling.
This is it, Yassine thought. Something terrible is about to happen.
The blade came down.
And the world broke.
A wave of energy exploded outward, five hundred meters high, screaming across the land like a hurricane made of fire and lightning. Everything in its path—stone, trees, beasts—vanished in an instant.
Yassine's knees gave out. "Oh my God…"
He had seen many things already, but nothing like this. The power behind that strike—it was like a nuclear bomb had come alive. It was beautiful and terrifying.
Maybe… maybe there's hope, Yassine thought, his chest tight with a mix of fear and awe. Maybe this human can turn the tide. Maybe they still have a chance.
The blast reached the horned creature, swallowing it in a storm of dust and thunder.
Yassine leaned forward, desperate, waiting for the dust to clear.
And then—
It did.
The figure still stood.
Unharmed.
Its black eyes locked onto Yassine. Not by accident. Not by chance. It had seen him. It knew he was watching.
It raised its arms to the sky.
The sun disappeared.
Not dimmed. Not covered.
Gone.
Darkness fell. Not night. Not shadow.
Oblivion.
Yassine couldn't see his hands. Couldn't feel the ground. He was floating, weightless, like a soul cut free from a body.
Am I dead? he thought. Is this death?
Then—
A jolt.
He was back. In his office. In his old chair. The book lay closed on his desk.
But Yassine… was not the same.
His hands trembled. His breath was shallow. His eyes—once dulled by age—now burned with something else. Fear. Wonder. Madness.
The vision clung to him. The screams. The power. The silence.
And the thing that had looked into him.
It saw me, Yassine realized. It saw me…