Renji Kurogane: 23 Fragments of Fate and Misfortune

I slept.And that alone is weird, because after a cursed pyramid tries to tattoo your soul with a blinking eye that glitches harder than a cheap router, sleep isn't exactly easy.But my brain said: "You know what? I give up."And shut down the operating system.

Darkness.Silence.Peace.

It lasted five seconds. Max.Because this is my life.

And there it was again:The pyramid.But this version was designed by a drunk architect who dreamed of H.P. Lovecraft, swallowed a lava lamp, and said, "Let's make this aesthetic."

The stones were breathing (yes, breathing), the columns melted like they forgot how to be solid, and the shadows whispered in voices made of memories...memories that clearly weren't mine.

I walked.Didn't remember standing up. But there I was, legs moving in soft glitch mode.Hot sand beneath my feet.But no floor.The ceiling spun like the universe was rebooting with epilepsy.

And then—like it had always been there—the Eye.

Giant.Broken.Open.Looking at me with the same affection a shark has for a finger.

It didn't speak in words. That would be too easy.It spoke in ideas.Mental commands.Like my thoughts had been hijacked by a depressed screenwriter with a taste for the ominous.

"The body is no longer enough.""The seal is inside.""He sees you… because you saw him."

I felt something in my chest.Like an existential bee stung me from the inside.I looked at my arm.

And yep.There it was.A pyramid tattooed into my skin.Like some Egyptian shaman with a hangover and a faith crisis used my body as his notebook.

Below the collarbone, another masterpiece:The Eye.Tattooed.Alive.Blinking.With ink that looked like it wanted to escape.

And then…someone else.

Not in front.Behind.Like they'd been walking just behind me the whole time.

Breathing.Not speaking.Wearing a hood, wrapped in broken light—like an angelic glitch who forgot how to render properly.

I looked sideways.No face.Just presence.Pride. Ruin. PTSD-level ancient power.

"Sen…ku," I whispered.No idea why. I just did.

He smiled.And vanished.Because of course. That's what metaphysical nightmare NPCs do when they get bored.

—

I woke up with my heart running Windows 98 in safe mode.Mouth dry like I'd been eating sandpaper in my sleep.Sheets soaked in a mix of sweat, dread, and "WTF."

I sat up.Looked at my arms.

The tattoos were still there.Sharp. Dark. Glowing like they were ready to whisper, "You're going to die… but make it special."

I reached into my pocket.Because I'm a masochist.

And there they were.

Four.Diamonds.Small. Cold.Radiating that "ancient cursed relic with lost-language warnings and cosmic side effects" kind of vibe.

"What the actual…?"

I got dressed like I was escaping an exorcism about to go interactive.Stumbled down the stairs with the feeling that each step was charging me astral taxes.

And there he was.The guide.Smoking.As always.With that face that said, "I warned you, but it's not my problem because you didn't sign anything."

He looked at me.I looked at him.

"The pyramid…" I began.He raised a hand."It's gone."

Dramatic pause.I blinked.He exhaled.

"I went back this morning," he said."There was nothing.""No entrance. No stones. No trace. Just sand… and that weird smell."

"What does deleted history smell like?""Like dust… and glitch. Like someone edited the world and didn't hit save properly."

—

"Are you saying…?""I'm saying," he repeated with the tone of someone who's lost faith in everything—including toasters,"that the pyramid you visited yesterday… no longer exists."

And I, Renji Kurogane—ex-cop, unaccredited archaeologist, and now container of a seal that not even the gods want to touch—just stood there.Trembling.

Because the Eye had opened.And reality…was staring back.