ARC 1 – DESTINY
There was a time when he had a name that meant something.
A name that bent reality.
A name spoken only in reverence... or fear.
Now—
It was just a sound.
He did not remember the sky where he once stood. He held only fragments: light that did not burn, voices that did not echo, a throne he never asked for, and a fall he never understood. The first thing he learned on Gaia was how to breathe.
The second—was how to be alone.
Three hundred years is a long time to exist without purpose. It is long enough to forget what you were, and long enough to stop asking why.
Rain fell like static over Liminus District. Neon lights flickered against puddles, reflecting a city trying too hard to stay alive. Wires hung like black veins between the crumbling buildings. The air was a thick soup of noise: vendors shouting, engines groaning, and laughter bleeding into arguments. Constant. Meaningless.
He stood in the middle of it, completely unmoved. Adam Corwin.
That was the name he carried now. It was given to him by a dying man, so he kept it. A cigarette burned between his fingers. He didn’t smoke it; he just watched the ember disappear, using it as a tether to a world he didn’t quite belong to.
A scream cut through the mechanical hum. Sharp. Real. Different. Adam’s eyes shifted—not in surprise, but in recognition of trouble.
Footsteps approached, fast and uneven. Someone was running.
A girl turned the corner entirely too fast and collided straight into his chest. The impact wasn’t strong, but she stumbled, her hand instinctively grabbing his arm to steady herself. Her skin was warm. Frantically alive.
For a moment, the world seemed to decelerate.
Adam looked down, blue eyes and messy hair. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving like the world was chasing her—and maybe it was.
“Sorry—!” she gasped, pulling back immediately. Panic laced her voice as she threw a glance over her shoulder. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
She stopped, her gaze snapping back to him. Most people avoided Adam. They felt the distance in him, a heavy “wrongness” they couldn’t explain. She didn’t. She just blinked, momentarily forgetting the men chasing her.
“You—uh... are you okay?” she asked.
Adam stared at her. Not because of the question, but because it was the wrong one. “I believe I should be asking that,” he said, his voice flat, carrying the rusty cadence of someone who lived in silence.
“...Right,” she let out a jagged, nervous laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes more sense.”
The heavy thud of boots echoed down the street, growing closer. Her expression shattered. “Okay, listen,” she said quickly, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “If anyone asks, you didn’t see me.”
Adam tilted his head slightly. “The logic of that is poor. I have already seen you. To say otherwise would be a factual error.”
“...Wow, you’re really not helpful.”
Two men rounded the corner. One was Jason, her ex-manager and ex-boyfriend, a man whose polished smile hid a violent desperation. Beside him stood a broader, hooded accomplice, silent and calculating. Jason smirked the moment he saw her.
“There you are,” Jason said, his voice dripping with false sweetness.
Mariah cursed under her breath, her fists clenching at her sides. But she didn’t run. Adam found that interesting.
“You can go,” she muttered to Adam without looking at him. “This doesn’t involve you.” He believed her. That was the problem.
“Is there a problem?” Adam asked Jason, his voice entirely uninterested.
Jason stepped forward, assessing Adam’s tattered coat and long hair. “Yeah,” he scoffed. “She is. Move along, old man.”
Jason reached for her arm. It never landed.
There was no visible movement. No sound. Just pressure.
Jason’s body froze mid-step, locking up as if wrapped in an invisible iron vice. The crushing weight pulled him downward.
“What the—?!” the hooded man staggered back in terror. “Hey, what did you do?!”
Adam exhaled, a sound of mild irritation. “Let go of her.”
The pressure tightened. It wasn’t enough to kill; it was just enough to remind them of their mortality. Jason dropped to his knees, gasping desperately for air he couldn’t catch. Adam shifted his empty, amber gaze to the hooded accomplice.
“...You too.” The hooded man didn’t resist. Both of them collapsed onto the wet pavement, alive, but very aware of the monster standing before them.
Silence returned to the alley, save for the rhythm of the rain. Mariah stared at him. She wasn’t scared yet, just utterly bewildered.
“...What,” she said slowly, “was that?”
Adam looked at his hand, then back at her. “I suggested they stop.”
“That’s not how suggestions work.”
“It proved effective.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and then laughed—not out of humor, but out of pure disbelief. “...Okay,” she said, brushing wet hair from her face. “Okay. Sure. Yeah. I’m just not gonna question the physics of that right now.”
She looked at him again, studying his stoic face. “...You’re weird.”
“It is a common observation,” Adam replied.
A pause. The rain softened. “Thank you,” she said, her voice quieter now. Real.
Adam didn’t respond. He just watched her. There was something deeply familiar about her. Not her face or her voice, but a resonance that irritated him because it felt like a memory he couldn’t reach.
“Do you have a name?” she asked. He hesitated for a second. “...Adam.”
She smiled, like it was enough. “I’m Mariah.” The name landed differently in his chest. He didn’t know why.
“You should go,” he said. “Yeah,” she nodded. “Yeah, I probably should.” She took a few steps back. “I’ll see by you around, Adam.”
“Statistically, you won’t,” he answered factually.
She smirked. “People say that a lot.” Then she ran, disappearing into the neon-lit streets as if she belonged to the city.
Adam stood there in the quiet. For the first time in a long time, something felt off. It wasn’t a threat. It was something much worse. Connection.
He flexed his hand, annoyed. Somewhere far beyond the sky, something stirred. Something that was not meant to happen had already begun.
Mariah didn’t sleep well. Not because of what happened, but because she kept thinking about it. The guy. Adam. She stared at the ceiling of their apartment, one arm over her eyes, mimicking his flat voice under her breath. “Yeah, okay,” she muttered. “Totally normal.”
“Talking to yourself again?” Bea’s voice came from the other side of the room.
Mariah groaned and rolled over. “I’m processing.”
“Processing what? Bad decisions or bad men?”
“...both.”
Bea sat up from her bed, already dressed for work. “Let me guess. You didn’t block him.”
“I did block him... I unblocked him.”
Bea sighed. “Mariah.”
“I know,” she said quickly, sitting up. “I know, okay? It’s done. I’m done. I’m not going back.”
Bea studied her for a second. “...you said that last time.” Mariah didn’t respond, because yeah, she did.
A small voice came from the corner. “Ate, you’re loud.” Aaron was half-awake on the couch, blanket wrapped around him, hair a mess.
“Sorry,” Mariah said, softer now. “Go back to sleep.”
Aaron rubbed his nose absentmindedly. “...you’re gonna be late again.” Mariah checked the time. “-shit.”
Everything after that moved fast: uniform, bag, shoes, half-brushed hair. She grabbed a piece of bread, kissed Aaron on the head, and ignored Bea yelling something about not dying today. “Not planning to!” she shouted back.
The streets of Liminus were already alive. Vendors shouting, jeepneys packed. People moving like they had somewhere important to be. Mariah liked it; it felt honest. Her phone buzzed. She didn’t need to check. She already knew. Jason.
Cafe Uno smelled like roasted beans and burnt milk. Comforting.
“Late.” Mariah winced. “...good morning to you too, Lexa.” Alexandra Ford, her boss, didn’t even look up from the counter. “Clock in. You’re on drinks.”
The morning rush hit hard. Orders stacked, names called, machines hissing like they were alive. Mariah moved fast, falling into rhythm. This part was easy. She stared at the screen for a few seconds. Normal. Until she saw him. She turned her phone off completely. “...not today,” she whispered.
Standing near the pickup counter, hands in his pockets like he’d been there the whole time. Adam.
Mariah blinked twice. “...you’ve got to be kidding me.”
He tilted his head slightly. “You said I wouldn’t see you again.”
“I was hoping,” he replied calmly.
She walked over, half-annoyed, half-confused. “What are you doing here?”
“Coffee.”
“...you don’t look like someone who drinks coffee.”
“I don’t.”
“...then why are you here?” He actually thought about it. “...I don’t know.”
Mariah stared at him, then laughed. “Okay, you’re officially the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”
“I have been told.”
“Yeah, I believe that.” She grabbed a cup. “Name?” He looked at her. “...you already know it.” “Company policy,” she countered.
A pause. “...Adam.” She smirked as she wrote it down. “You’re lucky I don’t write something else.” “You wouldn’t,” he said. “Try me.”
For a second, there was something almost normal about it. Then the glass near the counter cracked. Just a little. Barely noticeable. Mariah paused, looking at it. “...did you see that?” Adam didn’t answer; he was looking at her. “Nothing,” she said quickly, shaking it off. “Probably just cheap.” But her hand lingered near her nose just for a second. Adam noticed.
When the rush died down later, she found him still there, sitting by the window, just watching the city.
“...you’re still here. Why?” she asked.
“...I’m trying to understand something.”
She leaned against the table. “Okay... that sounds serious.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what is it?”
He glanced at her. “You. I don’t understand why you ran toward danger.”
“I didn’t run toward it—I ran away from it.”
“You stopped.”
“...yeah, well,” she crossed her arms, “running forever gets tiring.”
He considered that. “That is inefficient.”
She laughed again. “You talk like a robot, you know that?”
“I am learning from people. I am aware I am not doing a great job.”
Silence settled between them, but not uncomfortable. “I don’t usually talk to strangers,” she admitted.
“Yet you’re talking to me.”
She smiled just a little. “Yeah. I don’t know why.” Neither did he.
Adam didn’t sleep. He rarely did, not because of insomnia, but because there was nothing waiting for him when he woke up.
His apartment was too quiet for a man who could hear a clock ticking three rooms away and the drip of a loose pipe downstairs. He sat by the window, watching the city move, thinking about Mariah Cruz. He had met thousands of people, saved a few, and ignored most. None of them lingered in his mind like she did. “...Inefficient,” he muttered.
His phone buzzed. He stared at it before answering. “Yes.”
“You sound terrible. Did you finally try sleeping like a normal person?” Alex’s voice came through. “No.” “You disappear for weeks and then suddenly show up in Liminus like you’re broke,” she sighed. “I am not broke.” “I know you’re not. Then why are you there?” Adam looked out at the street. “I do not know.”
He hung up, ignoring her follow-up text about sending money.
Later, Adam stood in a polished, high-rise building far from Liminus. Men in expensive suits slid financial projections across a boardroom table. “Your investments are growing faster than projected,” one suited man said eagerly.
“I don’t need it,” Adam said, not touching the papers. “Then why invest?” “Because humans do.” Adam leaned back. “Transfer half of it to hospitals. Schools. Anything that keeps people alive.” “All of it?” “No,” Adam paused. “I am still learning.”
Walking back through Liminus, he saw a kid trip on the broken pavement and scrape his knee. The boy started crying. Adam crouched beside him. “Does it hurt?” Adam asked. “Yeah,” the kid sniffed. Adam held his hand near the small wound. He didn’t touch it. The bleeding simply stopped. “You’re fine,” Adam said, standing up and walking away. The boy stared after him, whispering, “Weird.”
When Adam returned to Cafe Uno, Mariah was at the counter. “You came back,” she said, shaking her head. “You still don’t drink coffee. I’m not even gonna question it anymore.”
He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You were bleeding earlier. Your nose.” She froze. Her hand instinctively went to her face. “It’s nothing. Just stress.” “You should get that checked. It is abnormal.”
Mariah studied his serious expression. “Are you always this concerned about strangers?” “No.” “Then why me?”
Adam didn’t answer. He didn’t know, and the lack of logic bothered him more than anything.
War didn’t sound like people imagined. It wasn’t constant explosions or chaos. It was quiet between moments. The kind of quiet that made you think you survived—right before you didn’t. A’dam Eron Corwin, a man with dignity and high moral compass, views life as precious and worth keeping. In such a bizarre time of his life, he stumbled upon an unusual being that will be brother for life.
“Move!” Eron’s voice cut through the smoke. Adam followed, not because he had to, but because Eron told him to.
“You ever think about running?” Eron shouted, ducking behind cover.
“No.”
Eron laughed. “You’re insane, you know that? You ever think about what happens after this? War. Surviving. Living like normal people.”
“No.”
“Man, you’re missing out,” Eron smirked. Gunfire again, closer. “Stay here,” Eron said suddenly. He stepped out. Everything after that happened too fast. A shot. Silence.
Adam found him on the ground. There was too much blood. Adam knelt, his hands steady, trying to fix it with his power. Nothing happened.
“Hey,” Eron coughed, grabbing Adam’s arm. “Look at me. For someone who doesn’t talk much, you’re gonna have to remember something for me.” “What.” “Don’t be alone. Take my name. You need one anyway... so you don’t forget you had someone.” His hand slipped, and he was gone.
“Adam.” The voice pulled him back to the present.
Mariah was waving a hand in front of his face.
“You spaced out,” she said. “Looks like it hurts.
“It does not,” Adam stated.
She didn’t believe that. “Ate!” A young boy ran up from behind Mariah. He stopped, staring at Adam closely. “You look familiar.” Adam froze. The boy rubbed his nose. It was the exact same mannerism Eron had
“I’m Aaron,” the boy smiled. “I like him.”
“You would,” Mariah muttered, then looked at Adam. “Okay, explain how you do that creepy thing where you just know stuff.” “I observe,” Adam said quietly. He looked at the kid again. It wasn’t Eron, but it was close enough to hurt.
“You shouldn’t,” he said to Aaron. “What does that mean?” Mariah frowned. Adam looked away. “Nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. For the first time, Adam wondered if staying in Liminus was a fatal mistake
Mariah should’ve known it wouldn’t end that easily. It started with the text messages from unknown numbers. You think you can just leave? We’re not done.
She deleted them. Blocked them. But they didn’t stop.
“He’s messaging again,” she finally admitted to Bea one night. Bea’s expression hardened. “Did he come near you?” “I think so,” Mariah forced a smile. “I can handle it.”
At Cafe Uno, the stress caught up. Mariah dropped a ceramic cup, the shatter echoing far louder than it should have. Her hands were visibly shaking as she picked up the pieces.
Adam was watching from his usual table. “You are distracted,” he noted as she brought a broom. “Wow, you’re really good at stating the obvious,” she sighed. “He won’t stop.”
“Then stop him,” Adam said logically. “It’s not that easy.” “It is.”
She looked at his blank expression. “You scare me a little, you know that?” “I have been told.” .
Outside the cafe window, a dark car slowed to a halt. Adam’s amber eyes tracked the movement instantly. “He is here. Do not look.”
It was too late. Jason stepped out, smiling as if they were old friends meeting for lunch. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mariah whispered, her heart dropping.
Adam stood up smoothly. “Stay inside.” Before she could protest, he was out the door.
Jason saw him and laughed. “Well, well. The hero.” “Leave,” Adam said, stopping a few feet away. “Or what? You think I’m afraid of you?” Jason sneered, stepping closer to invade Adam’s space. “Stay out of this. This doesn’t involve you.”
“It does now,” Adam replied. His voice didn’t rise, but the air around them grew noticeably heavier.
Jason laughed, though it sounded slightly forced. “Yeah. You’re gonna regret that.” He got back into the car, but as he drove away, his amusement was gone. He looked at Adam with genuine, calculating interest.
Mariah grabbed Adam’s arm the second he walked back inside. “What was that?!” “A warning.” “You think that’s gonna stop him?” “No,” Adam said calmly. “Because next time, I will not warn him.”
Liminus felt different at night—too quiet, too empty. Mariah was walking fast, feeling that familiar pressure of being watched. Her phone was dead. Of course it was.
Footsteps echoed behind her. They weren’t hiding anymore. “Mariah.”
She stopped and closed her eyes. “Go away, Jason.” “Can’t do that.” She turned around. Jason wasn’t alone. Brandon, the hooded accomplice from the alley, stood beside him, watching her like a mathematician calculating a sum.
“You brought backup,” she said, her stomach dropping. “Insurance,” Jason smirked. “We want you.” “Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Brandon added calmly.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she snapped, stepping backward. “See, that’s the problem,” Jason sighed, stepping forward. “You think you have a choice.”
He stopped abruptly as the air pressure shifted. Adam stepped out from the shadows, hands in his pockets, his expression entirely unbothered.
“...You’re persistent,” Jason laughed. “Man, you really don’t learn.” “I do. You don’t stop,” Adam said, his eyes darkening.
Brandon stepped forward, pulling a weapon. “Walk away. This doesn’t concern you. Last warning.” “I do not need one,” Adam tilted his head.
The first punch came fast—too fast for a normal person. Adam didn’t dodge. The impact echoed loudly in the alley. Mariah gasped his name. Adam didn’t even flinch. He slowly looked back at Brandon. “Are you done?”
Brandon attacked again. This time, Adam moved. It was blindingly fast. Jason swung, missed entirely, and found himself eating the asphalt. Brandon tried to grab Adam, but was suddenly forced to his knees. The invisible, crushing pressure was back.
“What the hell are you?!” Jason choked out from the ground. “I told you to stop,” Adam said, walking toward them. The pressure increased until their bones literally creaked.
“Adam, stop!” Mariah screamed, terrified of the display.
Adam froze. Just for a second, his concentration broke. That second was all they needed.
A blade flashed. No one saw exactly where it came from, but they all heard the sound of tearing flesh.
Adam looked down at his torso. Blood. For the first time in a very long time, he was bleeding.
The world went quiet. It was the heavy silence right before a collapse.
Mariah stared in horror. Adam touched the wound, bringing his fingers up to the dim light. He looked at the red liquid, genuinely confused. “That is new.”
Jason scrambled backward, pure panic erasing his smugness. “I—I didn’t—” “Run,” Brandon barked. They fled instantly, disappearing down the street.
Mariah rushed forward as Adam swayed. It wasn’t from the pain; it was from the impossible reality of the injury. “It shouldn’t work,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t be...” He stopped.
Mariah slammed her hands over the wound. “You’re bleeding!” “I noticed.” “Shut up, this isn’t the time!” she cried, her hands trembling violently against his chest.
He looked at her, entirely unconcerned with his own blood. “You’re shaking. You are not hurt.” “You are!” she yelled. He paused. “That is a problem.”
She almost laughed hysterically. “You think?! We need to get you to a hospital.” “No. They will ask questions,” Adam stepped back unsteadily. “I will be fine. I have been worse.” “When?!” she demanded. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t explain it yet.
She grabbed his arm fiercely. “You don’t get to do that. Act like this is nothing!” “It is.” “You’re unbelievable.” “I have been told.”
For a second, he almost smiled. Then he winced. It was small, but Mariah saw it. He actually felt the pain. That terrified her more than what happened earlier.
“What are you?” she asked quietly. He looked at her. There were a thousand answers he couldn’t say. “Someone who made a mistake.” “What kind of mistake?” He glanced at his blood. “You. Not you,” he corrected quickly. “This.”
The words stayed heavy between them. And somewhere far above, something was watching, and smiling.
The air in Liminus was thick tonight. There was no rain, just a stifling, humid fog that trapped the neon light and made it hard to breathe.
Mariah refused to let go of his arm. Adam noticed the grip, but he didn’t pull away. They walked in silence, not toward safety, just away from the mess.
“You’re leaving blood behind,” she muttered, paranoia lacing her voice. “It will stop,” he said. “That’s not comforting.”
They turned into a quieter alley bordered by old buildings and familiar emptiness. Adam leaned against the brick wall. He didn’t look weak, just... adjusting. Mariah pulled off her jacket and pressed the fabric hard against the wound.
“You don’t need to—” he started. “I know,” she interrupted, her hands still shaking.
Adam watched her. He could hear her heartbeat—fast, uneven, worried. “Are you always this stubborn?” she asked quietly. “Yes.”
She sighed. “You didn’t even flinch earlier. Not from the punch.” He didn’t answer. She noticed too much. “You’re hiding something,” she said, locking eyes with him. “I see no reason to deny it.” She blinked. “Okay, that’s somehow worse.”
He looked at the blood soaking through her jacket. It was slowing down, much faster than a human’s, but it wasn’t instant like it should have been. That bothered him deeply.
“You should not get involved with me,” he said quietly. “It is dangerous.” “My life was already dangerous before you showed up.” He didn’t like that she was right.
She adjusted the pressure on his shoulder. Their hands brushed. Warm and alive. The same familiar pull tugged at his chest, making him profoundly uncomfortable.
“Why did you come?” she asked suddenly. “You were in danger.” “You barely know me. Then why?” He hesitated a second too long. “I do not know.” She smiled, small and tired. “You say that a lot. You’re weird.”
The wound finally stopped bleeding. She slowly pulled her jacket away. “See?” he said. “You’re still getting that checked.” “You’re persistent.” “I learned from you.” That almost made him smile.
A phone buzzed. It was his. He looked at the unknown number and answered. “Yes.” Silence hung on the line before a calm, cold voice spoke. “You’re bleeding.” Adam’s eyes darkened instantly. “Who is this?” “You already know.” The line cut dead.
Mariah noticed the shift. “What happened?” “Nothing.” She didn’t believe him.
They stepped out of the alley into the foggy city. Something had fundamentally changed, and they both felt it. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Don’t disappear.” He hesitated. “I will not.”
As she walked away, Adam stood watching her. This time, he didn’t want her to leave.
Far above the sky, the Pantheon stirred. Escanor stood before the council. “It has begun,” he said. Darius smiled faintly. “Finally.” Somewhere between heaven and earth, the balance shifted.
- END OF ARC 1 -
