Chapter 0 - Memories That Shouldn't Exist

He turned to Kaivan, who was kneeling near the wall, his fingers glowing faintly blue as the Tome of Omnicent activated. Patterns of light crawled across stone and metal, strengthening the structure that was moments away from collapse.

"Kaivan, we need to reach the summit now. They’ll be here in thirty minutes," she whispered, her voice like a breath carried by the storm.

Kaivan nodded. "Alright, let’s move." But their steps halted when his companion’s body faltered. He collapsed onto the snow, his face pale and bluish. Kaivan instinctively caught his shoulder, keeping him from falling.

"Hey! Don’t you dare pass out now!" Kaivan shouted, his voice trembling as he tried to stay calm.

The other boy gave a faint smile. "Relax... just a little tired..."

The pages of the Tome of Omnicent suddenly trembled in Kaivan’s hand. Glowing letters formed in the air:

Go upward. Find an open space. Survive the second wave.

Kaivan gritted his teeth. Without another word, he lifted his friend onto his back. His muscles creaked as he bore the weight.

They pushed through the storm, climbing toward the high plateau. Behind them, his friend’s makeshift tank lay buried under snow and debris. Along the path, corpses of soldiers and massive beasts froze mid-motion—a silent testament to an unfinished war.

The wind howled, lashing at their faces and lungs. Every step was heavy, every breath like swallowing shards of ice.

The night sky burned red with fire and explosions that shattered the silence. The Caucasus Mountains were no longer quiet; their white snow was now stained with soot, ash, and blood. Orange flames illuminated wrecked tanks and torn helicopters. Fire still licked their metal frames, melting them slowly, creating the image of a frozen hell beneath the snow.

From a ridge strewn with ruins, Kaivan and his friend gazed down at the valley below, panting and wounded. What they saw was something no human should witness: Gog and Magog, dancing upon the wreckage, celebrating their awakening.

Under the flickering firelight, their forms became clear—twisted manifestations of chaos and corrupted creation. Some were small and agile like monkeys, while others were hulking brutes of flesh and bone. Their skin was scarred and torn, still dripping with fresh blood.

Some gnawed on the ruins of tanks and helicopters, their serrated jaws crushing metal like biscuits. Their uneven yellow teeth glistened, and their crimson eyes glowed in the dark—ancient madness in every gaze. Others, guided by bizarre instincts, adorned themselves with scraps of metal: chains across their chests, steel plates on their shoulders, shards of rockets on their backs—symbols of status, or perhaps, terror.

Their laughter was hysterical—a blend of bloodlust and ecstasy, like a tribe rejoicing after a victorious hunt. Some danced atop piles of charred bones, performing grotesque rituals beneath the raining embers.

Kaivan stood frozen. His breath was heavy, his shoulders burdened with his friend’s limp body. From the heights, the valley below looked like an ocean of fire and blood. His throat was dry, his thoughts spinning.

From the depths of his childhood memories, a fragment of a hadith surfaced—words he never understood, now echoing with unbearable weight.

“Indeed, Bzzz BZzzzz said: ‘O Bzzzzz,’ and Bzzzzz replied: ‘I come at Your call, with all joy, O Bzzzz.’ Then it was said: ‘From your descendants, take those destined for Hell.’ And Bzzzzz asked: ‘Who are they, O Lord?’ It was answered: ‘Out of every thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine will enter Hell, and only one will enter Paradise.’ The companions trembled in fear, asking: ‘Who among us will be that one?’ And it was said... the nine hundred and ninety-nine are Gog and Magog, and one among them is of you.’”

A flash of light exploded across the valley, reflecting off the torn walls of snow. In that instant, Kaivan realized the horrifying truth: those creatures numbered not in tens or hundreds—but thousands. A dark tide surged down the cliffs, spreading like a tsunami of shadows. The fissure that had once been a mere meter wide now gaped open, spewing an endless horde from the abyss.

“So this is what the hadith meant... one out of nine hundred and ninety-nine,” Kaivan whispered hoarsely, his voice drowned by the wind. His grip tightened on his friend’s shoulder. The boy was barely conscious, his face as pale as the snow.

“That hole… how could it cause something this massive?” Kaivan’s voice trembled, a mixture of fear and disbelief.

The other boy forced a faint smile, though his breath came in ragged gasps and pain trembled in his eyes. Black smoke rose from the ruins, accompanied by the thunder of explosions and the roars of beasts echoing through the fog. Each breath felt heavier—as if the world itself pressed down on his chest.

“Kaivan… I can’t hold on much longer,” he rasped, coughing blood that stained his lips. “I’m out of strength… it’s just the two of us. How could we fight them all…”

Kaivan’s gaze locked onto his friend’s trembling eyes—fearful, yet stubbornly defiant. He pressed the radio on his shoulder, his voice rough but resolute. “Hold on a little longer. I’ll find a way out.”

The sky above them glowed crimson, as though the walls of hell were cracking open. From afar, a streak of light crashed into the ground, shaking the air. And amidst the chaos, something began to stir.

The crystal within the Omnicent started to hum softly. The calm blue light it once carried slowly turned into blinding white. Faint letters appeared on its surface, forming a single, haunting word: Found.

Kaivan froze. The world seemed to stop. The sounds of explosions, screams—even his heartbeat—vanished into that light.

He awoke with a muffled gasp.

The air in his room was cold and damp. Sweat trickled down his temples, soaking the pillow beneath him. His hands trembled as he clutched his head, pain pulsing from his temples to his neck.

“Was that… a dream?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

But the image of that white light hadn’t faded. It lingered behind his eyes—faint, yet vivid. And in his palms, he could still feel its warmth.

Kaivan sat on the edge of his bed, letting the silence stretch. Morning light slipped through the curtains, painting golden lines across his pale face. He drew in a deep breath, glancing at the half-open window, where leaves swayed gently in the wind.

Then, slowly, he stood. “School,” he murmured. “A new day.”

But his steps were still heavy. Each breath reminded him that something had changed—whether in the world, or within himself. And deep inside his mind, that one word still echoed: Found.