"For the two of you to get together, one must search endlessly, and the other shall wait for eternity."
"What a line he said!" one friend exclaimed, voice rising with excitement.
"And you know, then the protagonist came and sliced through all the Veilborns at once!" another added, eyes wide with awe.
A sixteen-year-old boy named Julius, with pitch-black hair and emerald eyes, sat on a bench, expressionless.
His poker face betrayed nothing as he casually listened to his friends, who seemed completely absorbed in their discussion.
It looked like they were enjoying it.
After all, it was about the recently popularized fantasy novel named...
It had taken the light novel community by storm. Almost everyone—boys, girls, adults, the old—had read it, captivated by its intricate world-building, complex plot, and masterful structure.
And here was Julius, who seemed to be the ultimate fan one could imagine, but in reality, he had never read even the first volume.
Fantasy had never held any appeal for him.
So he nodded. That was all he could do.
Actually... he had been doing the same for weeks. Pretending, blending in, keeping the façade.
Today, 29 August 2024, his fate was about to change. Today, he would finally read Path to Invulnerable.
A few minutes later, the school bell rang. Crisp. Clear. Slicing through the chatter.
Julius, expression calm and stoic as ever, carried his bag on his back, one hand gripping the strap to ease tension in his muscles.
He walked toward the exit, each step measured, precise.
As he neared the school gate, a voice called out-masculine, eager, urgent.
"Hey, Julius! Can you lend me Volume Sixteen of Path to Invulnerable? I’ve searched all over the city—it’s out of stock everywhere!"
Julius’ brows furrowed.
He clicked his tongue sharply, a sound of mild annoyance, before regaining composure. His lips pressed into a thin line.
"Sorry," he said evenly. "I haven’t finished reading it yet. You’ll have to wait a few days."
The other boy sighed, disappointment clear in his voice. "Okay... goodbye."
Julius walked to the nearby bookstore and scanned the shelves. To his surprise, the book was right there. Easy to find.
What can we do... it’s popular, after all.
He sighed, gripping the book in his hands, pausing to take in the cover.
Skilled artists had illustrated every tiny detail.
The artwork was intricate, alive, almost pulsating with life.
But as people say, a book can’t be judged by its cover.
He flipped the first page
Again and again, nothing.
He ran his thumb along the edge. Nothing. Pure, utter nothing.
"Uh... why am I feeling dizzy... ahhh!" His voice cracked, barely audible.
The world tilted. Colors blurred.
A heavy, suffocating pressure pressed against his mind, making it hard to breathe.
Darkness crept at the edges of his vision like curtains slowly drawn shut.
Sounds became distant, muffled, like echoes in a deep tunnel.
He felt detached, slipping from his own body. The ground tilted.
Waves of dizziness washed over him.
Then, a final, overwhelming pull swallowed him. Blackness.
Anger burned within Julius, but he could not release it. He could not move. Read full story at 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⁂𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖⁂𝕟𝕖𝕥
Not a hand, not a foot, not even a muscle. Only consciousness remained.
He tried to look around. Nothing. No light. No sound. Just an endless, oppressive black void.
Time stretched. His anger faded into desperation.
’Why am I not going to heaven or hell?’
’Or... perhaps this is hell?’
His mind raced through possibilities.
’ Maybe I am going to reincarnate... maybe an angel will come and take me from here.’
Floating in the void, he wanted to cry—but he could not.
Wanted to scream—but no sound came.
He was bored. Utterly, painfully bored.
Having nothing else to do, he began counting, marking the passage of time.
One... Two... Three... Four...
’Two million eighty-six thousand nine hundred ninety-two...’
’Two million eighty-six thousand nine hundred ninety-three...’
’Two trillion, eight hundred thirty-eight billion, seven hundred forty-eight million, three hundred ninety thousand, nine hundred one...’
’Two hundred ninety-four quindecillion, eight hundred forty-seven quattuordecillion, seven-’
Then a voice, cold and commanding, echoed in the void.
"Hmm... looks like you have survived the void for six seconds. By now, most test subjects’ souls are torn apart... but yours remains intact."
"You... shall be the one to receive another chance at life."
Julius could not comprehend most of it, but certain words cut through the void, sharp and clear.
A shiver ran down his spine.
Relief mixed with fear, anticipation tangled with confusion.
He tried to move, to speak, but only silence responded.
And for the first time since he arrived, Julius felt a spark—a flicker of purpose, a glimmer of survival.