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With no memories of himself and nowhere to go, a lost boy must find his way through an unknown world with instinct alone. Trusting in a body he doesn’t recognize to keep him alive throughout the day while enduring its repressed memories at night. With no guarantee to see tomorrow and no way back from today, will he be able to face his future knowing his past does not exist? Or will he choose to live in the moment forever, betting it all on today?

In a world where hidden burdens carry a physical weight, a nameless boy must navigate a den of sharp-eyed strangers while carrying a dark secret that is slowly rotting the reality around him.

Original ONGOING Portal Fantasy / IsekaiTime LoopUrban FantasyProgressionWar and MilitaryActionMysteryPsychologicalRomanceApocalypseDystopiaFirst ContactGender BenderHigh FantasyMagitechMale LeadMartial ArtsMythosReincarnationSteampunk Warning: This fiction contains: Graphic Violence Profanity Sensitive Content On the empty street, a lone figure walked. A black coat draped over a white shirt, stained in dark, uneven patches that had yet to dry. Black trousers followed the same muted tone, blending him into the night as though he belonged to it more than the world around him. His hair was black, unremarkable at a glance, yet his eyes—sharp, brown, and unwavering—carried a quiet weight. Not exhaustion of the body, but something deeper, something that had settled within him long before this moment. Blood marked his clothes. Fresh enough to glisten faintly beneath the dim light, yet old enough to cling stubbornly, refusing to fade. The road remained silent. No footsteps but his own disturbed the stillness. No distant engines, no whisper of wind—nothing. Only a single street lamp stood above, casting a weak, yellow glow that felt… insufficient, as though it illuminated less than it should, leaving parts of the world just slightly beyond reach. And in that dim light— Something about the scene felt incomplete. Then, without warning, the streetlight flickered. Once. Then twice. Then irregularly, as though something unseen had begun interfering with its rhythm. The shadows shifted with it—but not entirely in sync. A fraction too slow. A fraction too late. As if they were no longer bound perfectly to the objects that cast them. NOTE:- Please only read if you are ready to imagine the extreme gore and all types of mortal cruelty. Also available on Minkly.io in audio form

On the continent of Af-Ri, nine kingdoms stand beneath one sovereign authority. Nine Salvador siblings. Nine rulers. Nine kingdoms. All bound under one man — Kaelion Salvador. They do not call him King. Because there has not been one since the age of Set. The throne sits empty by law. Only the one who awakens the Cry of the Ancestors may ascend it. Not by vote. Not by bloodline alone. By power acknowledged by the world itself. For two centuries the Cry has been silent. Until the night a child is born. His eyes bleed. The air fractures. Ancient wards tremble. And beyond Af-Ri's sacred Seal, in the dark where no living soul has stood in a hundred and fifty years, something that has been waiting finally stirs. Not in fear. In recognition. The Creeds were never extinct. They were patient. Watching. Enduring. Waiting for the return of what they were built to destroy. And one child's first breath has just told them — across every mile of stone and silence between them — that he exists. The nine rulers of Af-Ri must now stand as one. Because this is no longer a question of succession. It is survival. This is not the story of a boy growing stronger. It is the story of a continent that must hold together long enough for a king to be ready — and an enemy that has waited two centuries learning exactly how to make sure he never gets the chance. The Cry has spoken. The world has heard it. What comes next has been planned for longer than any of them have been alive