Long ago, the world trembled not from war or famine, but from the very creatures that seemed to rise from the darkest depths of nightmares. These beings were known as the Heartless Ones. They were not merely monsters—they were the physical manifestation of chaos itself, with a singular purpose: to destroy. Wherever they roamed, they left only ruin, their presence an unshakable darkness that seemed to devour everything in its path. Their most terrifying attribute was not their size or strength, but the chilling void in place of their hearts—black, infinite abysses that seemed to absorb all warmth and light, leaving only a cold, gnawing emptiness in their wake.
The Heartless Ones often assumed human form, infiltrating the very fabric of society until the moment they chose to reveal their true nature. Their hearts, absent of life, were replaced by the void—an absence so profound that it could drain the life force from anyone in their proximity. For three decades, humanity lived in fear. Their world was slowly crumbling as these fiends hunted without mercy, decimating towns, villages, and cities alike. Entire populations vanished, and the world itself began to break apart under the weight of their relentless assault.
Yet, in the heart of this despair, a flicker of hope emerged. A wizard, known simply as Josh, had seen enough. Unlike most, who succumbed to the overwhelming tide of destruction, Josh knew there was a way to fight back—magic, the ancient force that could bind and reshape reality. With nothing more than a will of iron, he set out on a perilous journey to find the few remaining survivors and teach them the art of magic, hoping to ignite a spark of resistance against the Heartless Ones. The survival of humanity depended on it.
But Josh was not just up against the Heartless Ones. He faced a far darker force—the Man With A Billion Lives. This being, the right hand of the Heartless Ones' leader, was so powerful, so cunning, that merely hearing his name sent chills down the spine of even the bravest warrior. His abilities were far beyond mortal comprehension. The Man With A Billion Lives had the rare and terrifying power to see an infinite number of potential futures, shifting through possibilities as easily as flipping pages in a book. But that was not his greatest strength.
The true power of the Man With A Billion Lives lay in his ability to distort reality itself. He was no mere sorcerer; he could create illusions so vivid, so tangible, that they would warp the very fabric of existence. Whatever he imagined could become real, bending the laws of nature to his will. There were rumors that he could craft a reality where the Heartless Ones were invincible, where humanity was wiped out without a trace, its existence erased from the cosmos. If he desired it, nothing could stop him.
As long as the Man With A Billion Lives stood at the Heartless Ones' side, their victory seemed inevitable. Yet Josh, though outmatched, refused to surrender. He knew that the only way to challenge the impossible was to confront it directly. But he did not come with the intent to fight in the traditional sense. No, Josh had a different vision. He came to offer the Man With A Billion Lives a chance—to transcend the very thing he had become. He offered him something the illusionist had not seen in centuries: purpose beyond destruction, a reason to step away from the unending cycle of power.
When Josh finally found the Man With A Billion Lives, the confrontation was nothing like Josh had imagined. Standing before him was a figure tall and imposing, his features carved from the very essence of cold, unfeeling perfection. His eyes reflected a thousand possible futures, swirling with potential outcomes. The air around them seemed to vibrate, heavy with the weight of infinite possibilities. His smile was not one of warmth, but of a predator who had already foreseen his prey's every move.
"So, you've come to challenge me," the Man With A Billion Lives said, his voice a velvet whisper that seemed to reverberate in the space between them. It was soft, yet impossibly powerful, the kind of voice that could shatter mountains if it so desired.
Josh did not flinch. His eyes were steady, his heart unwavering. "I've come to offer you something different," he replied, his tone resolute. "I don't want to fight you. I want to give you a chance—a chance to be more than this. You don't have to be feared. You don't have to be alone. You could be more than the strongest—you could be someone who makes a real difference."
The Man With A Billion Lives laughed—a sound that was more a hollow echo than a genuine burst of mirth. His laughter resonated like the ripples of a distant storm, cold and detached. "Love? Being needed?" He sneered, the contempt dripping from his words. "I am beyond such things, wizard. I see all futures, all possibilities. I am a god in this world of my making." He waved a hand, dismissing Josh's words with a flick of his fingers, as though they were nothing more than a pesky fly. "Go back to your pitiful humans, wizard, or I'll erase you from the very existence you so foolishly wish to die for."
But Josh was undeterred. He stepped forward, unwavering, the resolve in his eyes burning brighter than ever. "You don't have to be this way. I'm offering you a chance to have a purpose beyond destruction, to change what you are. Leave out one scenario—just one—and I will spare you from the seal. You don't have to do this alone."
For the first time, the Man With A Billion Lives paused. His gaze flickered, just for a moment, with something faint—something that could have been curiosity, or perhaps doubt. "You think you can change me?" he asked, his voice colder than before, but with an undercurrent of something more vulnerable, something he had long since abandoned.
Josh nodded, his voice steady. "I believe you can be more than this. Let's make a deal. Leave one scenario unfulfilled, and I will let you walk away."
The Man With A Billion Lives narrowed his eyes, intrigued but cautious. "I'm not one for deals, wizard," he said, his voice low, though there was a change in the air—a subtle shift in the atmosphere around them. "But you… you have a fire in you that I haven't seen in a long time. Very well. I will accept your challenge, but know this: I will shape the outcome as I see fit. If you fail, there will be no escape."
Josh stood firm, the weight of the moment settling in. His heart pounded in his chest as the first tendrils of doubt crept into his mind. The battle that lay ahead would test everything: his magic, his resolve, and his very essence. Could he defeat the impossible and change the heart of the one who ruled over them all? Or would the Man With A Billion Lives reshape reality to crush humanity once and for all?
The war raged for over a week—swords clashed, magic crackled, and blood soaked the earth. It was a battle unlike any other, with both sides suffering immense losses. The Heartless Ones, led by their terrifying master, Kezdak, were relentless. But in the final moments of the war, Josh found an opening—an opportunity to strike at the heart of the chaos.
In a desperate gambit, Josh managed to force the cursed fruit, an apple given to him by the Man With A Billion Lives, into Kezdak's throat. This apple, capable of rendering its victim powerless for ninety-three seconds, was both a gift and a weapon. For those fleeting moments, Josh unleashed a powerful binding spell, trapping the Heartless Ones in a dimension of their own.
Enraged and humiliated, Kezdak tore the apple from his own stomach, cursing the spell that had imprisoned his forces. With a dark and terrible oath, he bound the Heartless Ones to return on the eve of the fourth thousand new year, cursing the apple itself—whoever consumed it would unleash the vengeance of the Heartless Ones upon the world.
The war was over. For now. Josh had won, but the victory came at a steep price. He buried the cursed apple deep within the earth, hoping it would never be found.
As the final moments of the battle passed, the Man With A Billion Lives, now on the brink of death, spoke his last words to Josh—his voice softer, almost mournful. "One day… we will return, no matter how long it takes. Take my blood, my power is in it. Drink it. Your future generations… may need my power."
And with that, the legend of the Man With A Billion Lives faded into the pages of history. But his influence remained, a shadow that would one day return, waiting for the right moment to once again reshape the world.
With that, the book closed.
With a final, resigned sigh, the reader closed the book. The sound of the thick leather binding echoing through the quiet room seemed to carry the weight of the untold, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake.
Fenix, sitting across from the reader, blinked in confusion, his wide eyes still lingering on the pages as if trying to make sense of what he had just read. He looked up, a question already forming on his lips. "That's it?" His voice trembled with disbelief. "There's nothing else about Josh or the Heartless Ones?"
The reader's fingers lingered on the cover, their eyes distant, as if unwilling to meet Fenix's gaze. Slowly, they nodded. "No, I'm afraid not. This is the only book in Nightfall City about the wizard Josh." They let out a soft, bitter laugh. "The Royal Family has banned any mention of him, you see. This—this is all we have. And believe me, it wasn't easy to get my hands on it."
Fenix frowned, his brow furrowing in frustration. "But… why? Why would they do that? Why would they want to erase him from history? And why does the story end so—so abruptly? And that whole bit about him returning in exactly four thousand years—what does that mean? How could they know that?"
The reader's expression darkened as they placed the book down with a heavy thud. They leaned forward, their voice low, laced with quiet urgency. "That's the thing, kid. There's no explanation. There are gaps in the story that shouldn't be there—so many holes, so many contradictions. It's clear this book has been rewritten. It's been changed, edited, twisted over the years, until we don't even know what's real anymore. Pieces of the original history have been erased entirely. And the rest?" They shook their head. "Who knows? It's anyone's guess. Maybe the truth's lost forever."
Fenix's mouth opened, but he didn't speak right away. He seemed to be piecing together the fragments of the mystery, turning the pieces over in his mind. "But why would they go to such lengths to hide it? To twist the story?"
The reader stood, walking over to the window. Outside, the towering skyscrapers of Nightfall City loomed in the distance, their cold metal surfaces reflecting the ever-present glow of the neon lights. It was a city of contradictions—beauty built on darkness, stability built on secrecy. "It's because Josh… he wasn't just any wizard," they muttered. "What he did, the way he fought… it was different. It wasn't just about power, about defeating the Heartless Ones. He… he was changing things. Changing the fabric of reality itself. And that kind of power? That's dangerous to those in charge."
Fenix's voice was quieter now, almost afraid to speak the words aloud. "You mean, he could have… destroyed the Royal Family?"
The reader didn't answer right away. Their eyes were fixed on something distant, something unseen. Finally, they turned, locking eyes with Fenix. "Maybe. Or maybe he could have saved them. Maybe he could have made the world a better place. But the Royal Family doesn't want that. They want control. They want everything to stay the way it is. And the only way to do that is to bury the truth." They exhaled slowly, as if releasing a burden. "And you know what the worst part is? This book? It's the only record of Josh we have. The only one left. And even this," they said, tapping the cover with a finger, "has been altered, twisted beyond recognition."
Fenix stared down at the book, his expression a mixture of confusion and determination. "So the story isn't complete. The truth isn't here. How do we even know what's real anymore?"
The reader met his gaze, their eyes dark with uncertainty. "We don't. And that's the terrifying part. But one thing is for sure… we need to find the illusionist, or his power, before it's too late. And with the Royal Family watching our every move, it's not going to be easy."
Just as they spoke, the ground beneath their feet shook violently, the walls rattling in a symphony of mechanical groans. A distant, humming sound grew louder, growing into the unmistakable whir of a massive hovercraft passing just outside the window. Fenix's heart skipped a beat. The reader's hand shot out, gripping his arm.
"Get up," the reader hissed. "Now!"
Before Fenix could react, the voice boomed from the hovering craft's speaker, cutting through the tension like a knife. "By the order of the Royal Family, Fenix, you are under arrest."
Fenix's blood ran cold. His pulse quickened, panic rising in his chest. "What—how do they know?"
The reader didn't answer. Instead, they pulled Fenix toward the door, their grip firm and urgent. "We don't have time to figure that out. We need to move, and we need to move now."
The reader glanced quickly over their shoulder, eyes flashing with a mix of dread and defiance. "We can't stay here. The past may be gone, but the future…" Their voice dropped to a whisper, as if speaking to themselves. "The future is just beginning."
Fenix hesitated for just a moment, his mind racing. There were too many questions, too many pieces left unsaid. He thought of the Man With A Billion Lives, of Josh, and of the future the reader had mentioned—a future that seemed to hang by a thread, so close and yet so unreachable.
But for now, the questions would have to wait. They had no choice but to run.
And so, with the shadows of the Royal Family closing in, they fled into the night, the flicker of neon lights and the distant hum of hovercrafts chasing them through the city's endless streets.
The night air was thick, not just with the usual chill, but with something darker. The kind of weight that made Fenix's heart pound like a damn drum in his chest, his breath ragged as he sprinted down the narrow hallway. His footsteps echoed off the cold metal walls, his mind racing, calculating, but it wasn't fast enough. The whole building felt like a cage, the walls closing in on him, the air so thick with danger it almost felt like he was suffocating.
"You really think you can outrun me?" The voice sliced through the silence, soft but with a twisted amusement, like the man was toying with him. It came from behind, muffled but unmistakable. The words barely registered before the voice continued, casual as hell. "Of course the guy isn't gonna come out if you just throw threats. He's an escapee. I'll go get him, just stay here and watch."
Fenix didn't stop to think about what the hell that meant. He didn't have the luxury. As the man tossed an apple into a waste bin—why the hell was he eating an apple in a situation like this?—Fenix bolted for the back exit. He heard the echo of his own footsteps, frantic and panicked, bouncing off the metal walls as the distance between him and whoever was chasing him grew smaller.
But just as he reached the stairs, another voice cut through the air—cold, mocking, familiar.
"Ahh, my favorite lapdog of the royals, Mr. Sax." The Reader's voice slid over the words like venom. "How can I help you today?"
Sax, his voice as sharp as broken glass, shot back. "Oh, nothing. Just looking for an escapee. You can't miss him—looks like a candy cane with his red and white hair."
The Reader laughed, a dark, humorless sound. "Ah yes, him. He was begging for shelter, but I turned him away. Can't have these dogs begging for scraps in my house, can I? It would be pathetic."
Sax's voice dropped, cold enough to freeze blood. "Of course, we can't. Especially not criminals. But I'm pretty sure he was with you. He was in cahoots with you, and I'm damn sure you helped him escape. Even if there's no evidence of that, I'm pretty sure we can just dust you for talking about the wizard Josh."
The Reader chuckled again, but this time it wasn't the same. It was calm, almost detached, like he'd already made peace with his fate. "Hmm… that's an interesting theory. Why don't we talk about it over some tea?"
Sax's sneer was audible, the air around him suddenly colder. "I'd rather not," he spat.
And before Fenix could even blink, Sax's expression turned deadly serious. With a flick of his wrist, an icicle materialized out of thin air—sharp as a fucking blade—and Sax drove it straight through the Reader's head.
The Reader didn't even have time to scream. His body crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll, lifeless in an instant.
"Damn it," Fenix muttered under his breath. Panic surged through him. He didn't have time to waste—he had to get out. As he tore down the hall, his legs burning, he could already feel the chill of Sax's presence closing in. That goddamn ice wizard was getting closer, and there was no time to lose.
He was almost to the back exit when he caught the shape of Sax out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't just that Sax was faster—it was like the bastard was everywhere. The air around him grew colder with every step, and Fenix could feel his legs begin to slow, his body succumbing to the freezing atmosphere that Sax created.
The trap had been set.
A massive snowflake materialized on the floor in front of him, its jagged edges gleaming with malice. The temperature dropped like a damn avalanche, and Fenix felt the ice creep up his legs, locking him in place as if the air itself had turned into chains.
Panic swirled inside him, a frantic, clawing sensation as he struggled to move. He couldn't—he was frozen. Solid.
But then a flicker of memory—the vial. The red and black vial he'd taken earlier, the one he had been warned about. The one that was supposed to save him, or kill him. With a desperate snarl, he yanked the cork off and drank the contents in one go.
The world spun, but not in the way it usually did. His body surged with power, raw and burning, like liquid fire rushing through his veins. The coldness that had gripped him dissipated, replaced by an explosive force that shattered the snowflake beneath him. The ice cracked, splintering like glass, and Fenix was free.
Sax didn't look surprised—he was already gathering more energy, summoning another freezing blast of ice, his face twisted with fury. The temperature plummeted again, and Fenix could feel his limbs beginning to slow. He fought, pushing back with everything he had, throwing a massive ball of energy toward Sax. It exploded on impact, a flash of white-hot force that sent shards of frozen air flying.
But Sax wasn't backing down. No, the bastard was pushing harder, overloading his power, and before Fenix could even catch his breath, the entire block froze solid. His energy was draining, the chill eating away at him like it had a life of its own.
Desperation clawed at him, but the ice was closing in, faster than he could break free.
Sax was moving now, quick and brutal. Without warning, he injected Fenix with something—a needle, slick and deadly. It burned as it sank into Fenix's skin, and within seconds, his vision blurred. His limbs grew heavy, like they were made of lead, and the world spun violently before everything went black.
The last thing he heard was Sax's voice, cold as the ice around him, full of satisfaction. "Tell the boss the escapee has been contained."
And then, darkness.
The van doors slammed open, and Fenix's unconscious body was shoved inside like a piece of meat. The air was thick with tension, and just as the doors were about to close, five shadowy figures appeared, moving toward the van with cold, mechanical precision.
Sax immediately stopped them, his eyes narrowing. "What the hell do you want?"
One of the figures—a tall man with glowing violet eyes—stepped forward, his movements stiff and controlled. "We're here for the escapee," he said in a voice that didn't sound quite human.
Sax reached for his phone, the ringing cutting through the air. He glanced at the screen: one word, "Boss."
He answered it, his gaze never leaving the figures. "Sir?" he said, voice steady but strained.
The voice that came through the phone was smooth, controlled, like someone used to giving orders. "Let them take him."
Sax's jaw clenched. "Are you sure? We went through all this trouble to capture him, and now you want me to just hand him over?"
"You will do as I say," the voice replied, calm but unyielding. "The Bishop has taken an interest in our organization. This is his test to see if you can protect the organization's interests without messing it up. This is not a request, Sax."
Sax's fingers tightened around the phone, his frustration boiling over, but he shoved it back into his pocket. His eyes flicked over the figures before him, the weight of the situation settling in. The Bishop's influence was too powerful to fight.
"Fine," Sax growled, his voice low and menacing. "Take him."
Two of the figures stepped forward, lifting Fenix's lifeless body from the van with eerie, almost unnatural precision. Sax noticed something off about them—something wrong, like they weren't quite human.
One of them, the one with violet eyes, inclined his head toward Sax. "The Bishop appreciates your cooperation," he said, his voice hollow and distant. "Your services are no longer required."
Sax let out a bitter scoff but didn't say a word. He knew better than to challenge the Bishop. Without another glance, the figures disappeared into the darkness, carrying Fenix away like some kind of damn prize.