Chapter 1: The Price of Recognition

The man’s steps were heavy.

Blood flowed from his right arm, dripping onto the cold hangar floor. He was forty-five years old, yet his face bore the scars of more wars than one could count. Behind him, the bodies of his men lay lifeless.

They were loyal. And that loyalty had been repaid in lead.

The rhythmic thud of combat boots echoed from the hangar entrance. Gun barrels rose. Spotlights swept through every shadow. The man kept walking. He climbed the short steps to his private jet and sank into the pilot’s seat. The engine began to whine; the propellers turned sluggishly.

But before the plane could taxi—the cold steel of a pistol pressed against his temple.

“So, that’s how it is,” he said calmly. “You betrayed me just for a taste of recognition?”

Before him stood a young woman. Her hands trembled, but the gun remained leveled. She had been mute since childhood.

Helen.

The girl he had once plucked from the fires of war. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

“Then do it,” the man continued. “I know you have no other choice.”

Another set of footsteps approached from behind.

Igor.

His right-hand man for years.

“Helen, do it now!” Igor barked. “Finish him! Only then will our lives be spared!”

Haku let out a thin, weary smile. “Igor… my friend. I never suspected you were the snake in the grass all along.”

“SHUT UP, OLD MAN!” Igor roared. “Don’t you get it? We’ve already lost! But you keep sacrificing innocent people for your crusade!”

“There is no victory without sacrifice,” Haku replied flatly.

“Sacrifice?” Igor laughed bitterly. “Ever since your lover died, you changed! You’re just taking your rage out on the world!”

Haku stared him down, his gaze unshakable. “I know the weight of loss. But this is not how you justify treason.”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

Igor pulled the trigger.

A single bullet tore through Haku’s head. His body slumped into the pilot’s seat.

Silence reigned for a heartbeat.

Then—an explosion rocked the hangar.

Fire devoured the jet and everyone within it. No one had realized that from the start, Haku’s hand had been gripping a grenade beneath the control panel. The pin had been pulled long before the bullet was fired.

If he had to die, he wasn't going alone.

Consciousness returned slowly. There was no sky. No earth. Only a boundless white void.

“Is this where I choose between Heaven or Hell?” Haku muttered.

The sound of footsteps approached. A tall man with blonde hair and piercing green eyes stood before him. His attire was pristine, bordering on perfection.

“Astrael, Keeper of the Prime Thread.”

Behind him emerged a woman with midnight-blue hair and eyes as clear as still water.

“Lytheria, Weaver of Returning Souls.”

Astrael looked at him devoid of emotion. “Haku. The place you truly deserve is Hell.”

“I know,” Haku replied steadily. “And I am ready.”

Lytheria offered a faint smile. “Not today.”

Haku narrowed his eyes at the two deities. “Then what do you want from me?”

Visions of another world materialized around them. Crumbling cities. Kingdoms ruled by foreign individuals. Technology bleeding into magic. Absolute power.

“The Reincarnators,” Astrael stated. “They hail from various parallel worlds with their memories and knowledge intact. Initially, we believed they would enrich this world.”

Lytheria continued, “But they began to distort it. Breaking laws. Shifting the balance to feed their own ambitions.”

Haku remained silent. Ambition. Recognition. He knew those words all too well.

“You will repatriate them,” Astrael said. “And if they refuse, you will erase them.”

“Erase?” Haku asked.

“By any means necessary. Even death.”

Haku thought of Helen. Igor. His fallen men. A second chance didn't necessarily make someone a better person. Often, it just gave them more room to fail.

“I accept your offer,” he said finally. “On one condition. Never stand in my way.”

Astrael and Lytheria exchanged a glance.

“Agreed.”

Haku’s consciousness felt as if it were being violently wrenched away. His vision faded into black.

He woke up gasping for air.

His body was small. Too small.

Rubble and ruins surrounded him. The stench of smoke and dust hung thick in the air.

“Where am I…?”

He caught his reflection in a shard of a broken mirror. A young boy’s face stared back. Before he could process the situation, a young girl with short pink hair dropped the fruits she was carrying. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Yohaime! I thought you’d never wake up!”

Yohaime. The name felt alien, yet somehow it stuck.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

The girl—Karen Miraviel—explained with a trembling voice. He had fallen from the third floor while trying to escape the Baltana Royal Army, who were capturing children for experiments. He had been trying to save her.

The sound of boots echoed in the distance. Other children were being hauled away. Haku tried to move, but Karen held him back.

“Enough… I can’t lose you again.”

He stopped.

Night fell. The army moved on, leaving the devastated city of Hezel behind. Amidst the ruins, Haku lit a small fire. Karen fell asleep on his shoulder after a meager meal.

He stared up at the unfamiliar stars. This world was different. Crueler. Quieter. His body might be small, but his mind still belonged to a general.

If this world ran on the laws of the cunning—then he would survive by being harder.

That night, while Karen slept, he began to train his new form.

One push-up. Then another.

A second chance wasn't a blessing. It was an obligation. And this time—he would not let anyone betray him again.