Jaeon hated sleep. It wasn't the nightmares—those he could handle. It was the quiet, the way it left him alone with his thoughts. Memories of his mom's laugh, her warm hands, the way she'd sing him to sleep. All gone. Stolen by a car crash two years ago. Now, it was just him, his uncle's fists, and a sketchbook that kept him sane.
He sat on his creaky bed in a tiny, moldy room, pencil scratching across paper. The sketch was of his mom, smiling, her hair blowing in the wind. Jaeon's hands shook as he drew. His uncle had been drinking again tonight, and the bruises on Jaeon's arm still stung. But the sketchbook was his armor. His escape.
"Jaeon!" His uncle's voice slurred from downstairs. "Get your lazy butt down here!"
Jaeon froze, heart pounding. He shoved the sketchbook under his pillow and curled up, pretending to sleep. The yelling stopped, replaced by the TV's drone. Jaeon let out a shaky breath. Just survive tonight, he told himself. One more night.
His eyes grew heavy. The room blurred. And then, he wasn't in his room anymore.
Jaeon blinked. He was… floating? No, standing. The ground was soft, like clouds, glowing with golden dust. All around him, tiny lights drifted, like fireflies in a void. The air felt alive, buzzing with energy. It was beautiful, but wrong. Like a dream that knew it was a dream.
"Where… am I?" he whispered.
A voice answered, deep and warm, coming from everywhere. "Welcome, Jaeon. You are in the Void Between Worlds. The first step on your path."
Jaeon spun, looking for the voice. "Who's there? What do you want?"
A figure appeared—a tall, glowing silhouette with wings that shimmered like stained glass. It wasn't human, but it wasn't scary either. "I am a messenger," it said. "You've been chosen. One of five. To save creation."
Jaeon laughed, bitter. "Me? Save creation? You got the wrong guy. I can't even save myself."
The figure's light pulsed. "Doubt is heavy, but your heart is strong. Face your trial, and see."
Before Jaeon could argue, the void shifted. The golden dust swirled, forming a shape. A man. Tall, broad, with a crooked sneer and bloodshot eyes. Jaeon's stomach dropped. It was his uncle, but not quite. His skin was too pale, his teeth too sharp. A demon.
"Well, well," the demon-uncle growled, voice dripping with venom. "Hiding again, you little rat? Thought you could run from me?"
Jaeon stumbled back, heart racing. "You're not real. This is a dream."
The demon laughed, stepping closer. "Dream or not, I'm gonna make you hurt." It reached into the air and pulled out Jaeon's sketchbook. His mom's drawing stared back at him. "Pathetic. Clinging to a dead woman's face."
"Stop!" Jaeon lunged, but the demon held the sketchbook high, tearing the page. The sound of ripping paper hit Jaeon like a punch. "No! Give it back!"
The demon's eyes glowed red. "You're nothing, Jaeon. Weak. Useless. Just like she was."
Something snapped inside Jaeon. Rage, pain, grief—it all boiled over. His chest burned, like a fire was trying to claw its way out. "Shut up!" he screamed.
The void shook. A roar echoed, not from Jaeon, but from something else. A massive beast burst from his chest, made of orange flames and shadow. It looked like a tiger, but its eyes were Jaeon's—furious, alive. Psychiko's of Tiger, his power, awakened by his pain.
The demon-uncle's smirk vanished. "What the—"
The tiger pounced, claws slashing. The demon screamed, its body dissolving into black smoke. The sketchbook fell, whole again, and Jaeon caught it, clutching it to his chest. The tiger roared once more, then faded, sinking back into him.
Jaeon dropped to his knees, gasping. "What… was that?"
The glowing figure reappeared, its voice softer now. "That was your spark, Jaeon. The power of a prophet's blood. You passed the first trial."
A screen flickered into existence, like a video game interface but made of light. Words glowed on it:
Jaeon, Chosen of the Five. Trial 1: Complete. Proceed to the Central Tower? [Yes/No]
Jaeon stared, his mind spinning. Chosen? Trials? A tower? None of it made sense, but that tiger… that power… it felt real. For the first time in years, he felt strong. Like he could fight back.
He reached out, trembling, and touched "Yes."
The void exploded into light. Jaeon felt himself pulled, like he was falling through stars. When the light faded, he stood on a grassy hill under a sky full of swirling colors. In the distance, a massive crystal spire pierced the clouds, glowing with power. The Central Tower.
Jaeon's heart raced. He didn't know what was coming, but he knew one thing: he wasn't just surviving anymore. He was fighting.
Far away, in the ruins of Heaven, Luciver watched through a portal, the devil child at his side. "One of the chosen has awakened," the child said, his silver eyes glinting.
Luciver's smile was cold. "Let them come. Hellneath will swallow them all."