-- In the middle of nowhere --

  "What does it mean to be boundless? To be beyond creation? What’s left to achieve when even your creator can’t touch you?"

  A calm voice resonated in the void, filled with a quiet defiance that carried the weight of countless battles. Zarath stood still, his silhouette illuminated by the faint glimmer of fractured stars and dying universes. Power radiated from him, infinite and unrelenting, yet his tone was burdened with something deeper.

  "An enemy once asked me that, right before I erased him from existence. ‘What’s left after you ascend beyond divinity?’"

  He paused, the question hanging in the stillness.

  "I didn’t have an answer then. Maybe I still don’t." He looked down at his hands, scarred from battles long forgotten. "Or maybe the truth is simpler than I care to admit."

  His gaze shifted to the distance, where infinity stretched beyond comprehension.

  "It’s not about what’s left to achieve. It’s about what’s worth protecting."

  ---

  Earth, Present Time

  The streets of Tokyo were alive, pulsing with energy and noise. Neon lights flickered against the backdrop of a bustling city, their glow reflecting off rain-soaked streets. People hurried past one another, wrapped up in their own lives, indifferent to anyone else.

  For Kaito, it was just another shitty day.

  He trudged through the crowd, a delivery bag slung over his shoulder. His clothes were worn, his shoes barely holding together. He looked like someone the city had chewed up and spit out. No one glanced his way; no one gave a damn.

  "How many times does this make?" he thought bitterly, catching a glimpse of his reflection in a shop window.

  "Where was it last time? Brazil, India, Germany? Fuck if I know."

  His lips twisted into a dry smile as he adjusted the scarf around his neck. "Back in Japan again. Not like it matters."

  Life was always the same. Poor, hated, overlooked. The gods—or whatever twisted assholes were running this cosmic joke—seemed hell-bent on making his existence miserable.

  And yet… something about this endless torment felt different every time.

  "Every time I reincarnate," Kaito mused, "my mind feels sharper, my instincts quicker. It’s like I’ve lived a thousand lives."

  He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "But what’s the point of being a genius if you’re born into shit every single time? What good is it when the world only gives a fuck about money?"

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  ---

  The Delivery

  The sputtering of his scooter’s engine echoed as Kaito stopped in front of a sprawling mansion. Gilded gates loomed before him, opening automatically with a soft hum.

  "Rich assholes," he muttered under his breath, grabbing the delivery bag. "Always the fucking same."

  He climbed the steps to the ornate front door and knocked twice. Moments later, it creaked open, revealing a woman draped in designer clothing. Her expression was one of thinly veiled disgust.

  She looked him over, her gaze lingering on his frayed scarf and scuffed shoes.

  "You’re late," she snapped.

  "Apologies, ma’am," Kaito said, forcing a polite smile.

  She scoffed, pulling out a handful of cash. Without a word, she tossed it onto the ground.

  "That should cover it. Now get lost."

  Kaito froze, his jaw tightening. The anger rose quickly, a hot, suffocating wave in his chest. For a moment, he considered saying something, anything. But he didn’t. He couldn’t afford to.

  "Thank you for your order, ma’am. Please order again." His voice was flat, barely masking his seething frustration.

  The woman sneered and slammed the door in his face.

  Kaito stood there for a moment, staring at the crumpled bills scattered on the wet pavement.

  "If I’m so goddamn smart, why can’t I just live a better life?" he wondered, crouching to pick up the money.

  The answer came swiftly, bitter and cruel.

  "Because the world doesn’t give a shit about brains when you’re poor. They’ll steal your ideas, call you a genius, and toss you aside like garbage. You’re nothing but a fucking cog in their machine."

  He stuffed the cash into his pocket and walked back to his scooter.

  "No system, no cheats, no miracles. Just the same endless cycle." He let out a hollow laugh. "Maybe I’m just supposed to suffer forever."

  ---

  Later the same day

  ---

  The night felt colder than usual as Kaito approached where he’d left his delivery scooter. His body ached from a full day of work, and his stomach growled—a reminder that he hadn’t eaten since the single onigiri he scrounged up this morning.

  When he turned the corner, his heart sank. The bike wasn’t there.

  “No... no, no, no!” He ran toward the empty spot, frantically looking around. “It was right here!”

  A burst of laughter echoed down the street, drawing his attention to a shadowy figure speeding off on his scooter. The delivery box wobbled as the thief hit the gas, disappearing into the night.

  “Get back here, you bastard!” Kaito screamed, taking off after them. His shoes, their soles practically worn through, slipped on the wet pavement, sending him sprawling face-first into a puddle.

  “Goddammit!” He slammed his fists into the ground, water splashing everywhere.

  The laughter faded into the distance, leaving him alone in the cold, soaked, and humiliated. “Fuck this world... fuck everything...”

  ---

  Dripping wet and trembling, Kaito returned to the restaurant. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as he opened the door, his heart pounding with dread.

  His boss looked up from the counter, his face already twisted with anger. “Where the hell have you been? You’re fucking late!”

  “My bike... it got stolen,” Kaito stammered, his voice cracking.

  The boss slammed his fist on the counter, making Kaito flinch. “Stolen? Do you have any idea how much that bike cost me?”

  “I’ll... I’ll pay it back somehow. Just give me time,” Kaito said, his voice barely audible.

  “Time? You can’t even afford a decent pair of shoes. What the hell are you gonna pay me with? Your fucking pride?”

  Kaito bit his lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to break free.

  “You know what? Forget it. You’re fired,” the boss said, throwing a greasy apron at him. “Get your useless ass out of my sight.”

  “Wait, please—”

  “I said get out!”

  Kaito didn’t argue. He simply grabbed his bag and walked out into the night, the door slamming behind him.

  ---

  The next morning, Kaito trudged back to his apartment, clutching his bag like a lifeline. As he reached the door, the landlord—a hunched old woman with a face like sour milk—was waiting for him.

  “You’re late on rent again,” she barked, her bony finger wagging in his face. “I’m sick of your excuses, Kaito!”

  “Please, just give me one more week,” he begged. “I just lost my job, but I’ll figure something out. I promise.”

  “No more promises!” she snapped. “You’ve had enough chances. Either pay up now or get out.”

  “I... I don’t have it right now,” Kaito admitted, his voice breaking.

  “Then pack your shit and leave,” she said coldly.

  Kaito tried to plead with her, but it was useless. Ten minutes later, he was standing on the street with his meager belongings in a tattered duffle bag.

  ---

  The city never slept, but Kaito felt more invisible than ever. He wandered aimlessly, searching for somewhere—anywhere—to rest. Eventually, he found an alley that offered a semblance of shelter from the biting wind.

  He sat down, leaning against the cold, grimy wall, and used his bag as a pillow. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. Hunger was an old friend by now.

  He looked up at the faint stars above, barely visible through the city’s haze. "Why the fuck do I keep trying? What’s the point anymore? Even when I work hard, I lose everything. Every. Damn. Time."

  His thoughts spiraled as exhaustion pulled at him. “No matter what I do, no one gives a shit. You’re poor, so they steal from you. You’re smart, so they use you. It’s always the same... a money-making machine, not a person. Just... just let me sleep. Just let me fucking rest...”

  His eyelids grew heavy, and as the noise of the city blurred into the background, he thought he heard a voice.

  “Kaito...”

  He opened his eyes, but there was no one there. Shrugging it off as his imagination, he closed them again, letting sleep take him.

  As his consciousness drifted, a circle brimming with light and a specific pattern on it appeared beneath Kaito.

  ---

  End of Chapter 1