Slave of Fate

The city was cloaked in an unsettling silence. The air felt heavy, as if something were about to unfold. The people, all around him, seemed to sense it. The stench wasn't the usual scent of decay or the sweet aroma of flowers—it was fear. It permeated the air, clinging to everything, even the very sky above. It was as though the heavens themselves had begun to choke on their own unease.

Some among the crowd whispered quietly, resigning themselves to their inevitable end. Others tried to explain it away with science or coincidences, but all were bound by the same unspoken dread. Everyone saw something different in the rain that had begun to fall. For some, it was merely droplets, cold and indifferent. For others, it was blood, a foreboding sign that the world was about to be washed clean by something far darker. And for a few, it was their karma—a consequence long overdue.

The rain persisted, but it didn't feel natural. There was no comfort in it, no relief. It felt wrong, as though the world itself had become unmoored from its course. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the rain stopped. The sky shifted, clearing in an instant, and yet, it was more terrifying than before.

The clouds had dispersed, but the stars were hidden behind a strange, unnatural darkness. The moon—large, bright, and an unnaturally deep shade of red—dominated the sky, casting a blood-hued glow over everything below. It was as if the moon had claimed dominion over the heavens, declaring itself ruler of the night with its sharp, crimson light.

"The moon rules the skies," some whispered, eyes wide with awe. Others simply stared, their faces pale and frozen with fear. It was a sight that gripped the soul, leaving them speechless, paralyzed by the sheer unnaturalness of it all.

Rudra, however, was unaffected. As the crowd stood in stunned silence, he slipped through the masses, his movements fluid and precise, as if this spectacle held no weight for him. His purpose was simple. Survival. He made his way toward the food stalls, moving with purpose, not a single emotion flickering in his eyes. He had learned long ago not to waste energy on unnecessary thoughts.

There would be food soon enough. Survival was his only concern.

His hands moved deftly, gathering enough food to last the next few days. He didn't hesitate, didn't pause to savor the moment. It was a simple task, one that had to be done, like everything else. The world around him could crumble, but as long as he had what he needed to survive, that was all that mattered.

How long have I been walking? The question was almost an afterthought. It doesn't matter. I need to keep moving. The pang of hunger gnawed at him, but he ignored it and kept walking after a while later

he prepared to sit and eat, a sound reached his ears. The distant hum of a vehicle.

*Is that…?* He narrowed his eyes, barely pausing in his movements.

Two figures appeared, their faces hidden behind masks. They were dressed in clothes that spoke of strength—muscles rippling beneath the fabric, their movements calculating, cautious. They spoke in low tones, their words urgent.

"We're short one person. Because of this cursed night, we couldn't find anyone else. No one's been out in this cold. If we don't fill the last spot, the master will kill us tonight. It's the last day."

One of them pointed toward Rudra, still standing by the rock, his presence unnoticed by most.

"What's that?" one of them murmured, his voice muffled by the mask.

"Looks like a kid," the other replied.

"No. 8, we can't take him. You know that."

"We've been searching for hours and haven't found anyone. Most of the adults will be dead by dawn anyway. What's one more body? It's easier to carry a child—lighter, less trouble."

Rudra remained still, observing them with the same cold detachment he always wore. The words meant nothing to him. The presence of these strangers was just another disruption in his routine. He was ready to move at a moment's notice, but for now, he didn't make a move.

No. 8 and No. 2 approached him, their eyes never leaving him. They were closing the distance now, intent on whatever plan they had in mind. Rudra could feel their eyes on him, but he didn't flinch. His weight shifted slightly to one leg, prepared to spring into action. But then…

*Crack.*

The sound echoed in the still night air, a sickening noise that made Rudra's expression shift not a whit. His body tensed, his muscles lost strength and his eyes blurred leaving him unconscious

No. 2 stopped dead in his tracks, confusion written across his face.

"Senior, what happened? Why are you—"

No. 8 didn't answer right away. Instead, he bent down, his hand moving toward Rudra's throat, checking his pulse.

"No2… he's still breathing. He's too thin…" No. 8 muttered, then stood, a look of irritation flickering in his eyes. "Doesn't matter now. Let's move."

With barely a glance, they lifted Rudra's limp form. He was light, barely an inconvenience, and they carried him without hesitation toward the waiting vehicle.

The ride was long, silent. Rudra's body was carried like a sack, his mind too far gone to even care about the journey. His thoughts were vacant, empty. The world was just a blur, a series of meaningless motions that had no bearing on his existence.

After what felt like hours, they arrived at their destination. The vehicle stopped, and No. 8 carried Rudra through a desolate graveyard. The place smelled of death, an overpowering stench that made even the seasoned mercenaries pause. White flags fluttered on the graves, each one marking the resting place of a forgotten soul.

No. 2 raised his hand, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sudden burst of light, golden energy split the air. A door appeared, fragile and weak, as though it might collapse with the slightest touch. It was old, archaic, and yet somehow… familiar.

"Every time I see this, I'm still stunned," No. 8 muttered to himself.

No. 2 nodded grimly. "You go first. I'll take care of the rest. Put the device on him before we head in."

No. 8 did as ordered, fastening the strange device around Rudra's neck with practiced ease. Then, without a word, he stepped through the door. The air around them seemed to warp and fold as they passed through, the world shifting with each step they took.

When the light finally cleared, they moved space in an ancient vast places ....