New beginning

Darkness.

That was all there was at first—no sound, no light, not even pain. Just an endless, heavy void. Li Heng drifted in it like dust caught in a vacuum. There was no body to feel, no mouth to scream with, and no eyes to cry from. Only a presence. A floating awareness.

His thoughts were foggy, slipping through his consciousness like smoke. Time had no meaning here. Was it seconds? Years? He didn't know. All he felt was helplessness. A gnawing sensation of being trapped inside himself—mute, paralyzed, incomplete.

Then, something changed.

Not much, just the faintest twitch. A sensation at the edge of his being, as if a muscle moved. He latched onto it desperately. It was the first sign that something still existed beyond that void.

More time passed. He learned to move—or maybe it was instinct. He couldn't tell. There was no ground, no up or down, only the sensation of floating, suspended in a warm, fluid-like silence. It reminded him of being in space, drifting weightless through the stars. Strange, but peaceful.

Despite everything, Li Heng felt... calm. His mind, once burdened with sorrow and anger, began to drift. The memories of sirens, war, fire, and death felt distant, like the plot of a movie watched long ago. His body slept, but his mind wandered. There were no words for this experience. It was terrifying, yet tranquil. He could've remained like that forever.

But nothing lasts forever.

Suddenly, a harsh light pierced through the darkness. His eyes were closed, yet he could feel it searing against his lids. Then came pressure—a tugging sensation on his legs. Something—or someone—was pulling him.

Panic surged through him.

What was happening? Was this the end again? Had death found a second form?

He wanted to scream, to fight back, but the cold hit him first. A sharp, biting chill crawled up his skin. Gone was the warm, safe void. Now there was only cold air and sound. Sound! It was loud, chaotic—voices shouting, machines humming. The world crashed in all at once.

Then hands—many hands—wrapped around him, rough and unfamiliar. They carried him, lifted him, placed something over him. The fabric scratched against his skin. Clothes?

He felt pressure on his chest and warmth surrounding him. He opened his eyes for the first time.

Light blinded him. Blurry shapes hovered above. Slowly, they sharpened.

A face. A woman—no, a giant woman—looked down at him with soft, tear-filled eyes and a smile so wide it almost looked unreal. Her features were unfamiliar, her skin glowing faintly under the sterile white lights of the room. She was holding him close, pressing him gently into her chest.

Li Heng looked around. There were others. People in blue uniforms—doctors, maybe? Their heads were huge. No, he was small.

The realization hit him like a tidal wave.

He was a baby. A newborn. Reborn.

Shock froze his thoughts. This couldn't be real. It was insane. He was seventeen when he died. He remembered everything: his old life, the war, the sirens, the rage at the world… and the explosion. He had died. There was no mistaking it.

So how was he here?

The woman holding him—his new mother, he guessed—spoke in a soft, foreign language he didn't recognize. Her voice was melodic, filled with emotion, but completely unintelligible. The others spoke as well, exchanging excited words, clapping softly.

He couldn't understand anything.

More hands reached in, adjusting a monitor or checking something behind his head. Machines beeped in the background—soft, rhythmic, pulsing. He caught glimpses of the room around him. Sleek metal walls. Smooth lighting. Holographic screens. The technology was advanced—far beyond what Earth had, even in its final days.

This wasn't the Earth he knew.

Everything here felt... different. Cleaner. More sophisticated. The blue uniforms shimmered with faint energy lines, and the devices they used floated slightly above their hands like magnetized tools. Even the temperature was regulated, neither too hot nor cold despite the sterile environment.

Panic threatened to rise in him again, but he swallowed it down. What could he even do? Cry? Scream? Run?

He was a baby.

The mother rocked him gently, cooing softly in that unknown tongue. He couldn't understand the words, but her tone carried a strange comfort. She looked tired, yet radiant. Her eyes were violet. Not like contacts—truly violet, glowing slightly, as if imbued with some kind of energy.

Was that normal in this world?

Was she human?

He dared a glance at one of the doctors—tall and their eyes glowed with soft blue light. One of them touched a panel, and the wall shifted, revealing a window.

Outside… Li Heng could barely comprehend what he saw.

Towers. Massive towers of polished stone and metal spiraling into the sky. Flying vehicles zipped through the air, their trails glowing with ethereal light. Everything felt organized, humming with a quiet energy.

Technology? 

He didn't know what this was—but it sure wasn't the Earth he came from.

Still nestled in his mother's arms, his tiny body began to relax. The confusion remained, the questions burned—but for now, he was safe. No war. No bombs. No sirens. Just strange lights, new sensations, and the rhythmic beat of a heart beside his ear.

The exhaustion overtook him.

His eyelids grew heavy. He tried to fight it, but it was a battle he couldn't win. The warmth of his mother's embrace and the hum of alien technology lulled him to sleep.

And so, the darkness returned—but this time, it was gentle.