Darkness.
Not the quiet dark of unconsciousness, nor the simple black of closed eyelids. This was something deeper. Heavier. A weight that pressed against his mind, thick as smoke and cold as iron. It wrapped around him, clung to his thoughts, whispered in the silence.
Alpha drifted through it, weightless. Powerless. He did not remember falling, but he knew, with unsettling certainty, that he had lost.
Again.
The realization settled over him, a familiar weight pressing down on his chest. How many times had he fought just to end up like this? How many times had he pushed forward, only to be struck down in the end?
The answer didn't matter.
Only the outcome did.
A voice slipped through the void, soft as silk, sharp as steel.
"Do you understand now?"
It did not echo, yet he felt it everywhere, threading through his thoughts, curling around his very being. It had been waiting for him to hear it.
His own voice came sluggish, distant, as if spoken from behind a veil. "Understand what?"
"What you truly wield."
The blackness stirred.
A ripple spread through the void, and suddenly, he was not alone.
Something stood before him, shifting between a figure and a shadow. It had no solid form, no defined shape, but its presence was vast. Ancient. Its eyes gleamed like distant silver stars, piercing through the darkness.
Vanitas.
Or whatever presence lay within it.
Alpha met its gaze, his hands clenching. "You used me."
"I offered. You accepted."
His grip tightened. He wanted to argue, to deny it, but the memory was too fresh. The way his body had moved, faster and sharper than it ever had before. His mind had struggled to keep up, like a passenger in his own skin.
It had felt... natural.
Like breathing.
Like he had been meant to fight like that all along.
But it hadn't been him.
"You took control."
"I guided."
"You nearly got me killed."
Something flickered through the shifting form , amusement, maybe.
"And yet, here you stand."
Alpha narrowed his eyes. "Where is here?"
The darkness rippled. The void around him did not change, yet it felt different. Shapes loomed in the distance, vague and indistinct, as though they had always been there but only now allowed themselves to be seen.
"A place between moments," Vanitas said. "Between the fall and the rise."
That sounded... ominous.
Alpha crossed his arms. "Let me guess. You're about to offer me some kind of deal."
The silver eyes brightened. "No."
That was unexpected. "No?"
"There is no deal," Vanitas said smoothly. "Only a choice."
The void stirred again.
And the battlefield returned.
It flickered in front of him, fractured like a reflection on broken glass. His own body lay sprawled across the ruined earth, blood seeping into the dirt. The enemy loomed over him, their blade frozen mid-descent, inches from the final strike.
A moment trapped in time.
"You have the power to rise," Vanitas murmured. "But every power has a cost."
The silver veins along its shifting form pulsed, slow and deliberate.
Alpha stared at the scene, his battered body trapped in the last second before death. His fingers twitched. His heart pounded.
A second chance.
But at what price?
He turned back to Vanitas. "What are you?"
"A weapon. A burden. A key."
None of those sounded particularly reassuring.
"Why me?"
Vanitas studied him for a long moment. Then, for the first time, it answered without a whisper, without a riddle, without the weight of something unknowable.
"Because you break," it said. "And still stand."
Alpha's chest tightened.
He wasn't sure what answer he had expected. Some grand prophecy? A hidden destiny?
Instead, it was just this.
A simple truth.
He had fallen. Again and again. And yet, he had always gotten back up.
A memory surfaced.
A younger Alpha, bloodied and bruised, struggling to push himself up from the cold ground. A voice, harsh but familiar, had stood over him, arms crossed, unimpressed.
"Again," his mentor had said.
Alpha had wiped the blood from his lip, his body screaming at him to stop. But he had forced himself to stand.
Because failure was not an option.
Not then.
Not now.
His gaze drifted back to his broken body in the real world, time hanging by a thread, the enemy's sword hovering just above his heart.
He could stand again.
If he was willing to pay the price.
His throat felt dry. "...And if I refuse?"
Vanitas did not hesitate.
"Then this is where your story ends."
The battlefield flickered. The frozen moment wavered. The enemy's blade inched closer. Time threatened to resume.
Alpha took a slow breath.
This wasn't just about survival. If he fell here, there would be no one left to fight. No one left to stop what was coming.
He had never feared death.
But he refused to die meaninglessly.
His fingers curled into fists.
There was no real choice.
Not for him.
He reached forward.
The darkness trembled.
Power surged through him like a cold rush of water, flooding his veins, filling every crack where exhaustion had once been. It coiled around him, sinking deep into his very bones.
The battlefield snapped into focus.
Wind roared past his ears. The scent of blood and fire crashed against his senses. His heartbeat slammed in his chest.
He was back.
His body no longer lay sprawled on the ground. He stood, feet steady, breath calm.
Vanitas pulsed in his grip, its silver veins glowing brighter than before.
The enemy froze mid-strike, their expression shifting, not to anger.
To fear.
Alpha exhaled.
His heart still pounded, but he was alive.
And that was all that mattered.