History
He didn’t wake to an alarm clock.
He woke to warm drops landing on his face.
Thinking it was rain, he opened his eyes, only to meet crimson. Blood. A drop slid down his cheek as his body recoiled in silent terror—his instinct warned him not to make a sound. His muscles locked. His left eye throbbed with sharp, blinding pain, and when he tried to move, he realized he wasn't in a bed.
He was perched high above the ground, sitting on the massive, shattered arm of a giant mech. Torn plating and sparking wires hung beneath a blood-red sky. Above him, the moon lay shattered like cracked glass.
Below him was a nightmare.
The ground was a graveyard of thousands of human soldiers, civilians, and fallen alien beasts known as Minju—some hundreds of meters tall. Blue blood from the monsters mixed with red human blood, pooling into a strange, two-toned lake.
The reek of rotting flesh hit him, surrounding a city of leaning skyscrapers and burning ruins.
Yet, he felt no fear—only total amnesia. Who was he?
CLICK.
A cold, emotionless voice echoed directly inside his mind:
WELCOME, MORTAL. WELCOME TO THE KINGDOM OF ERWIN — EARTH 98. YOU WERE BROUGHT HERE AFTER THE DEATH OF YOUR UNIVERSE. CURRENT BODY DESIGNATION: KALE WAREN. YOUR MEMORIES HAVE BEEN STRIPPED.
A floating interface materialized in his mind, issuing two commands:
MISSION A — CONCEALMENT: Conceal identity for two years. Reward: None.
MISSION B — FAMILY: Locate and raise two children—Edwin and Lina—for two years. Reward: Noodles Shop.
Before he could process the absurdity of a noodle shop reward, a dark mask sealed itself over his lower face. Catching his reflection in shattered metal, he saw a fifteen-year-old boy with messy white hair, a scar over a blind white right eye, a stark blue left eye, and oversized, shredded military gear.
A timer ticked down: 05:59:59. Failure means death.
It took seven days of surviving hunger and wandering beasts to find Lina—a tiny, starving girl with shoulder-length hair who ate greedily when offered food.
Finding Edwin took longer. Dug out from building debris, the chubby, thirteen-year-old boy with white hair and red eyes flinched back in terror. Kale didn't know how to comfort him, but duty took root.
Intercepting a faint radio broadcast advising survivors to move north, Kale led the children across dead battlefields, ruined roads, and collapsed cities. Through weeks of shared meals, cold nights, and close calls, three strangers slowly bound themselves together.
A memoryless boy, a forced mask, and a system's command had forged a real family out of the ashes.
