Gravity claimed him first.
Cold air whipped past Ren’s face, carrying the sharp stink of ozone and burning concrete.
Plunging downward through a cloud of gray dust, his lungs screamed for oxygen.
A sudden, violent tremor shook the entire structure, sending another shower of jagged glass raining down beside him.
Memories surged behind his closed eyelids, hot and agonizing.
Silver blades twisted in his back, held by the one man he would have died for.
Smiling faces of comrades he had bled for, turning cold as they pushed him into the abyss to save their own skin.
Trusting them had cost him everything.
His mind drifted back to the cold rain of that fateful night in his past life.
Memories of her final moments flashed in his mind, his sister's blood warm on his hands, the mocking laughter of his guild leader echoing in his ears.
They had used him as bait, a simple sacrifice to secure a high-grade mana core.
Anger over that betrayal burned hotter than the physical injuries he currently bore.
It was a scar etched directly onto his soul, a permanent reminder that trust was a poison.
"Never again," he snarled into the rushing wind.
Bracing for impact, his heels hit a sloping metal girder.
Metal screeched against metal as he slid, friction burning through his boots and sending sparks flying into the gloom.
Force of the momentum threatened to tear his legs from their sockets, but he clamped his jaw shut and held on.
Rolling off the edge of the girder, he landed hard on a fractured concrete platform.
Pain shot up his spine, a white-hot needle that made his vision blur.
He forced his eyes open nonetheless, refusing to succumb to the darkness creeping at the edges of his mind.
Above him, the massive containment dome of Sector 9 was splitting apart like an eggshell.
Jagged fractures raced across the reinforced glass ceiling, reflecting the chaotic violet light from above.
Beyond those cracks lay a sky stained with toxic purple.
A massive, swirling vortex of absolute nothingness tore through the apex of the dome, swallowing the clouds and spitting out raw, unstable energy.
This was a Void Rift, the very cataclysm that had driven humanity to the brink of extinction.
Rifts like this had doomed humanity for over a century.
Watching the violet void expand, Ren spat a mouthful of copper-tasting blood onto the dusty floor.
People around this world worshipped the awakened heroes who fought these anomalies, believing them to be saviors.
Idiots, all of them.
Power in this world belonged to corrupt coalitions, vultures waiting to pick clean the bones of the weak while pretending to hold the line.
He had seen their true faces in his past life, and he would not be fooled a second time.
---
An elegant, mechanical chime echoed directly inside his skull, sharp and metallic.
[Host soul stabilization complete. Reincarnation successfully anchored.]
[Bleach System initializing...]
[Integrating spiritual core. Current integration status: 1.2%...]
Blue light flashed across his vision, sharp and blinding.
Strings of complex code scrolled through his retinas, written in a language that felt ancient yet strangely familiar.
Floating holographic screens of translucent blue hovered before his eyes.
This interface was clean, devoid of the flashy, bloated features of the local hunters' status screens.
It felt older, heavier, and infinitely more potent.
He scrambled behind a fallen concrete pillar as the ceiling gave way entirely, sending a massive block of stone crashing onto the platform where he had lain just seconds before.
Massive columns of steel crashed down, crushing a row of armored transport vehicles parked in the bay below.
Dust billowed, thick and suffocating, reducing visibility to mere inches.
Through the haze, a low, guttural click-clack sound resonated, vibrating through the concrete floor.
Something was crawling down from the rift, drawn by the scent of fresh human soul.
Eight spindly limbs, armored in pale, bone-like chitin, gripped the edges of the torn metal ceiling.
Hunger rolled off the creature in palpable waves of freezing energy.
Ren’s skin prickled with goosebumps as the ambient temperature plummeted.
His breath hitched, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs in a primal survival response.
Fear was a luxury he had burned away in the embers of his past life.
"Yes," Ren whispered, his voice cutting through the rumbling of the collapsing dome.
Instantly, a heavy weight materialized in his right hand, accompanied by a sharp, metallic hum.
Looking down, he gripped a standard Japanese katana.
Most striking was the blade—pitted, rusted, and completely devoid of any unique pattern or edge.
Hissing loudly, the multi-legged beast spotted him through the dust.
Sidestepping with practiced instinct, Ren avoided a thrusting, chitinous leg that stabbed into the floor.
Tremors sent a shudder through his boots, cracking the concrete further.
He didn't hesitate, throwing his weight forward into a counter-attack.
Clang.
Anger flared in his chest, hot and demanding.
He was weak.
If he couldn't even slay a lesser beast, his grand designs would end here, buried under the rubble of Sector 9.
Closing his eyes for a fraction of a second, Ren drew from the deep well of energy dormant in his chest.
A spark of blue light ignited at the core of his soul, burning away the lingering weakness.
He dragged that spark upward through sheer force of will, forcing it through his veins, down his arm, and into the iron hilt.
Fire flowed through his veins, filling him with an intoxicating sense of power.
Instantly, the sword felt lighter, almost like an extension of his own hand, a part of his very being.
Rust on the edge seemed to recede slightly, replaced by a razor-sharp gleam.
Charging forward, the beast snapped its massive mandibles, desperate to consume the delicious spiritual energy radiating from him.
"Die," Ren growled, his jaw clenching as he met the beast head-on.
He stepped inside the beast's guard, ignoring the stench of decay that rolled off its body.
Bringing the sword down in a clean, vertical arc, he poured every ounce of his spiritual energy into the strike.
This time, there was no resistance.
Black fluids sprayed across the concrete, sizzling as they touched the glowing blade.
Shrieking violently, the creature let out a high-pitched sound that rattled Ren's teeth and echoed off the ruined walls of the dome.
With a final, desperate twist of his torso, Ren wrenched the blade sideways.
Heavy breathing was the only sound left in the ruined chamber as the dust began to settle.
Ren leaned against his sword, using it as a cane to keep his shaking legs from buckling under the sudden exhaustion.
Adrenaline ebbed away, leaving a hollow, burning ache in his muscles and a profound thirst.
Looking around the ruined dome, he saw no help coming.
Humanity's defenders—the high and mighty hunters—were likely fleeing or securing the wealthy inner sectors of the city.
"A broken world," Ren muttered, wiping a splash of black blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.
It was a world run by cowards and self-serving politicians who traded lives for profit.
Building his own force was the only logical path.
Let the world think they were safe under their false heroes.
Standing straight, he pulled the blade from the concrete floor, watching as the creature's body began to dissolve into shimmering particles of light.
As the beast's spiritual particles dissolve into his blade, the system interface flashes blood-red with a warning: 'Ancient Soul Society signature detected in your bloodline—Initiating Gotei Protocol.'