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Somewhere beneath the Great Pyramid – Egypt
Timeless Silence
There was no time.
No thought.
No sound.
Not even darkness.
Only… absence.
He did not sleep. He did not dream. He simply—was not.
Like a word forgotten before it was ever spoken.
A blade forged but never drawn.
A god… paused.
And yet—
Somewhere—beyond the rock and blood that sealed him—something changed.
It started with a whisper. Not sound. Not even vibration. Just… a shiver in the fabric of the pause.
A crack.
A splinter through the spell that had held the world together by excluding him.
---
The scientists didn't know what they had uncovered.
Archaeologists. Engineers. Government operatives.
Digging too deep. Reaching too far.
They thought they were unlocking history.
But history was a lie.
They cracked the lowest foundation stone.
Ancient enchantments—layered over centuries, buried beneath floods of sand and sacrificial rites—broke.
And when the seal gave way—
So did the pause.
---
Inside the Void
At first, there was pain.
Not agony.
But existence.
The slow, echoing pain of becoming aware again.
Then… memory returned.
Not in order.
Not with clarity.
But in pieces.
> "…Akari…"
> "…Roux…"
> "…Dorian…"
Names. Faces. Betrayals.
> "Selene."
The last voice.
The one that didn't raise a hand—
But didn't stop the others either.
He saw it all again.
The circle of stone. The incantation.
Their faces—stern, sorrowful, silent.
His crime?
Too much power.
Too much prophecy.
Too much truth.
They feared what he would become.
And so they paused him.
A punishment without chains.
A prison without walls.
And now—
they had failed.
---
The sand shifted.
The vault—silent for millennia—began to hum.
One researcher screamed when the wall bled. Another fainted when the glyphs spoke.
The bravest stepped closer.
And died first.
With a whisper.
Their bones crumbled. Their souls unraveled.
He did not rise dramatically. He unfolded—
Like a star collapsing inward.
Like a crown forged from shadow and memory.
His eyes opened.
They burned without flame.
He spoke a single phrase—not in anger, not in hate.
But in remembrance.
> "The debt is due."
---
Above
A sandstorm erupted without wind.
Machines sparked. Lights failed.
The desert forgot itself.
And in the wreckage of the foundation, he emerged—barefoot, bare-chested, cloaked in nothing but the weight of his return.
The team was gone. Swallowed. Erased.
Only the camera footage remained—though it would never be found. Not by anyone who lived long enough to share it.
---
He walked north.
The stars remembered him.
The air bent to him.
The power returned—not in full. Not yet.
But enough.
Enough to start again.
He would find them.
He would face them.
Not as the brother they abandoned.
Not as the god they feared.
But as the reckoning they forgot to bury deep enough.
---
Northern Egypt — Edge of the Sinai
9:42 PM
The desert had thinned.
City lights now stained the horizon. Power lines clawed across the landscape like barbed vines. Machines choked the air with smoke, and laughter echoed without depth.
He walked barefoot over broken glass and garbage.
No cloak. No covering. Just presence.
Even the dogs—lean, desperate beasts chewing plastic—refused to approach.
He walked past them. Past fires in barrels. Past rusted gates and wandering drunks who did not realize their eyes had just passed over something their souls begged them to forget.
No one recognized him.
But every shadow flinched when he passed.
---
Cairo Outskirts – 11:03 PM
The neon lights buzzed overhead like dying stars. His gaze wandered across the buildings—graffiti-stained concrete and iron bones. Nothing divine. Nothing sacred. Only the illusion of control layered over chaos.
The world had changed.
Not grown.
Corrupted.
He watched humans push past each other, eyes glued to glowing screens, ignoring the sky, the dirt, the tremble beneath their feet.
He muttered.
> "They've built towers with no memory. Paved over the bones of gods to sell plastic and pride."
A child brushed against his shoulder while running.
He paused. Looked down.
The child didn't stop. Didn't notice.
> "Even the young forget to fear," he whispered.
---
He reached a narrow alley, framed by flickering streetlights. Trash danced in the breeze.
That's when they came.
Four of them.
Hooded. Armed with curved knives and nerves bolstered by hunger, poverty, and cowardice.
They stepped from the shadows like predators. But their eyes betrayed them.
> "Nice robe," the tallest said. "Hand it over."
He didn't answer.
> "You deaf?" another sneered. "Strip. Now."
No response. No fear. Just a tilt of the head.
The third robber shoved him hard.
He didn't move. But the one who shoved took a single step back. Instinct spoke where courage failed.
> "He's cracked," the youngest muttered. "Look at his eyes."
> "Shut up, and cut him."
They raised their knives.
He finally spoke.
Low. Calm.
> "You think yourselves hunters."
He raised his hand. The shadows around the alley deepened. Bent.
> "But you've only ever been meat."
---
Death Came Softly
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't flashy.
He moved like falling silk.
One blink—
—and a throat opened like ripe fruit.
Another blink—
—and the second robber's arm twisted backward, snapping in three places before the bones turned to dust.
The others tried to run.
But the shadows in the alley stretched long and hungry. They clung to the robbers' legs like lovers. And then like chains.
He didn't rush.
He enjoyed it.
The last one—barely older than seventeen—fell to his knees, sobbing.
> "Please... I didn't mean—please—!"
He tilted his head again.
> "You will be the first in millennia to beg me for mercy."
The boy nodded quickly.
> "And you will be the first… to learn I have none."
His hand grazed the boy's face.
And the boy simply… stopped.
No scream. No collapse. Just stillness. As if time had refused to carry him forward.
Forever trapped between breath and death.
---
After
The alley was quiet.
Blood dripped down cracked bricks.
And he stood, wiping his hands on a discarded prayer rug.
> "They forgot," he said quietly to no one. "What it means to fear gods that walk."
He stepped over the bodies like a man stepping over puddles.
And continued down the road.
Not hurried. Not hunted.
But with purpose.
A slow, dreadful return.
---