Beyond Parallel

chapter 1 Island Of Ruin

In that desolate cathedral hall, where shadows clung to the remnants of a shattered past, the air was thick with the echoes of silent suffering. The dimness seemed to absorb even the feeblest glimmers of hope, leaving only the haunting presence of despair. As he sat huddled in that oppressive darkness, the skeletal frame of the young man revealed a narrative of anguish etched into every contour.

His frail figure, almost swallowed by the vast emptiness around him, bore the scars of a life weathered by relentless storms. Bruises, like cruel echoes of forgotten violence, adorned his pallid skin, each mark narrating a tale of agony. Burns, like sinister tattoos, whispered of a past too painful to recall. The broken furniture scattered across the cathedral hall mirrored the shattered pieces of his existence.

Alone on the front row, on the only bench that offered any semblance of comfort, he clung to his legs as if seeking refuge from a world that had relentlessly betrayed him. His eyes, once perhaps a window to a soul full of dreams, now reflected the void of desolation. The stark contrast between the messy black strands of his hair and the pallor of his face accentuated the disarray within.

In the silence that enveloped him, his thoughts reverberated like a haunting melody, each note echoing the symphony of his torment. The occasional tremors that shook his body seemed like the last vestiges of resilience, a feeble resistance against the overwhelming weight of his own existence.

And there, in that abyss of despair, he sat, a tragic embodiment of the cruelty of life. His completely black eyes, devoid of life's spark, stared into the abyss, reflecting the abyss within his soul. The once vibrant spirit, now dulled by the relentless hardships, prepared for a moment that had long been overdue.

After enduring the ceaseless cycles of a life filled with pain, he now stood at the precipice of his ultimate goal, a goal that promised release from the unending torment. In the eerie stillness of that cathedral hall, his journey reached its somber crescendo, and the air pulsed with the solemn weight of a decision that would redefine his existence.

The seemingly forgotten kid who spent his entire life up to this point isolated and completely erased from memory and the history of the world, could finally get his answers.

Why was he born? To live such a point less life? To be restricted by an inconceivable force? His freedom and choice's stolen without any regard? To be in constant pain? His blood poisoned and completely destroyed? Leaving nothing but an empty husk of a person?

Born into a world that seemed to revel in the orchestration of his torment, the young man questioned the very purpose of his existence. Was it to endure a life so bereft of meaning, a narrative penned by a malevolent hand? The weight of an inconceivable force pressed upon him, a suffocating shroud that restricted every step and strangled every breath.

His journey through this desolate existence felt like a cruel dance with a fate that reveled in the macabre. Each day, his freedom and choices were ruthlessly stolen, as if the universe itself conspired against any semblance of agency. A puppet in a shadowy play, he moved through the script of a life not of his choosing.

The constant pain, a relentless companion, became the cruel rhythm of his days, an unending symphony of suffering. It wasn't just physical; it was a soul-deep agony that gnawed at the very core of his being. His blood, once the conduit of life, now flowed thick with the poison of despair, each heartbeat echoing the slow demise of hope.

His body, a canvas of scars and bruises, bore witness to the cruelty of a world indifferent to his suffering. The very essence of his humanity seemed to erode, leaving behind an empty husk that wandered through the shadows of its former self. Eyes that once harbored dreams now mirrored the desolation of a soul abandoned by the light.

In the haunting stillness of his existence, he grappled with the profound dread of a life that seemed designed to break him. The very fabric of his being was torn and frayed, his spirit withering beneath the weight of a destiny that offered no reprieve. And as he questioned the purpose of his existence, the answer echoed back in the eerie silence-a life sentenced to a dreadful dance with the unknown, a symphony of suffering that seemed to have no end.

He had long gone crazy, with no way to recover.
But now after 15 long and perilous years he would have his answers.

He had finally found a glimpse of hope.

As he sat in the darkness trembling, he stared at some inconceivable texts plastered across some stone ruins. His eyes seemed to convulse every time he focused on it and then shoot to the side; however he would instantly readjust his eyes to stare at the texts again.

Unknown to others, what this boy hoped to achieve was nothing short of madness.
The ancient words plastered on the stones were never meant to be seen much less read by a lower being. Yet this half alive human who's bones could be seen, clearly under his pale and blistered skin was not only reading them but trying to form a solid understanding of said texts.

After finding these ruins an entire year ago, he spent most of his time trying to translate and understand them. And now he was finally at the last tablet.

If what he had understood so far form reading was true, then everything he knew would become utterly insufficient and irrelevant.

The young man who's name was Kreed, was brought to this perilous island upon his birth and as much as he hated it, it was his home.
His father, was in charge of special research organization. Their goal being to create the perfect beings to become heroes. Well that was the only concept that the young and fragile boy could think of to see his supposed father in a different light.

However alongside his father were other managers, who would bring and train kids from birth into broken slaves for their higher-ups.

Luckily the batch of children to which Kreed belonged would be the last brought to this living hell of a place. Because after 5 years something finally went Wrong.

All Kreed as a child could remember was that after listening to his language teacher for what felt like an eternity his entire world was thrown into peril and panic.

After countless tremors shook the ground, the entire island was covered in a dark menacing cloud of dust, poison, and a curse placed their by an enormous black creature. It's proportions seemed to resemble that of a dragon, yet once seen, even the 5 year old kid could tell that it's very being was wrong.

Kreed as a kid witnessed countless forces go up against the unsightly beast, yet they were all slaughtered leaving no traces of their existence around.

After the entire island and it's enhabitants were drained of their life be it from the gigantic creature or the curse it placed upon the land.
Kreed found himself alone for the first time in his life.

As a child seeing such gruesome horrors could break someone completely, and was soon to break Kreed as well.
Despite the unbearable pain he felt as the poison ran rampant in his body, he could only stare motionlessly at the incredible creature.

But then, his hell grew even worse. Despite all the pain he was currently in, his body refused to die. The confused child sat on the cold bloodied floor of his lecture hall, littered with the corpses of countless children of similar age.

Their bodies completely disfigured and drained by the poison and the curse placed upon them.
Kreed waited patiently enduring the pain in hopes that all of his current situation was either a dream, or that he would draw his last breath joining his friends in the afterlife.

Yet life seemed to hate him completely as this moment never came. Instead he was left unable to move, but undying in the lecture hall.
Staring at the repulsive creature through an enormous crack in the wall.