Wu Sen, a young man who grew up in the slums, had always lived on the edge. Born into the chaos of the underworld, he’d learned early on that survival meant taking what you wanted with your fists, not waiting for mercy or salvation. He’d been a boxer—the best in the streets, the one they called when things got ugly. 

His fists were a legend in the shadowed corners of underground arenas, and his reputation stretched beyond the ring, reaching into the dark heart of the criminal world. But no one, not even a man like Sen, could outrun fate forever.

It was supposed to be the perfect heist. He'd studied the bank for months, memorizing the movements of the guards, the schedules, the security systems. It was a job that promised everything—freedom, wealth, power. With the heist, Sen could leave it all behind. He was tired of being the king of thieves, tired of the constant dance with death that had defined his existence.

But fate, as always, had other plans.

The night of the heist, everything went wrong. The plan fell apart within minutes. The quiet security breach turned into an all-out war, with sirens blaring and shots echoing through the vault. Betrayal came swift and cold—a silent alarm, an unexpected double-cross from one of his own. 

By the time the law arrived, Sen had already taken out two guards, his hands slick with blood and adrenaline. But it didn’t matter. The perfect escape was now a bloody mess, and there was no way out.

They caught him. He didn’t even try to run. There was no point anymore. Sen stood tall as they cuffed him, a faint smirk on his lips despite the mess around him. He could take the hits, the loss, the humiliation. What he couldn’t take was the look in their eyes—the fear and the certainty that he would burn for his sins.

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The trial was swift. The jury was already convinced of his guilt, and Sen didn’t help his case. He didn’t care. What was a trial to someone who had never played by the rules?

"Death by execution," the judge said, his voice cold and final. "Sentencing to be carried out in one year's time."

One year. A year to reflect on his sins, to stew in the knowledge of his fate. They might have thought that year would break him, force him to beg, to plead for mercy. But it didn’t.

Sen didn’t fear death.

It was the idea of being forgotten, of his name lost in the wind, that gnawed at him. He wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

What he didn’t know, as he sat in that cold, metal cell, was that he wouldn’t be dying in that execution chamber. Not the way they thought. 

A year came and went. The state’s plan for him was far different than anything he could have imagined. Scientists had their own twisted goals. They had their own experiments, their own designs. The prison system had a special project in mind—one that required subjects. Desperate men who had nothing left to lose. Men like Sen.

And so, they took him. He was chained, stripped of his dignity, but still, he was Wu Sen. He was defiant. He was a criminal, a murderer, a king in his own right.

In the dark of that underground lab, the pods lined up before him like tombs, Sen’s heart thudded in his chest. He’d been sent here to die. But what if… what if this was his second chance? 

As they loaded him into the pod, strapping him in with cold, unfeeling hands, Sen gave them a grin that sent a chill through the scientists. They might have thought they could control him, use him as some kind of test subject for their ridiculous experiment. But they had no idea who they were dealing with.

This *gateway*, this *black hole* they spoke of—he didn’t know what it was, but if it could take him from this prison, this world of shadows, it was better than the death they promised him.

The countdown began, the hum of the machinery deafening in the sterile chamber. Sen closed his eyes, preparing himself for whatever came next. He’d lived his life on the edge, and if he was going to die, he’d do it on his terms.

"Three... two... one..."

There was a moment of blinding, searing pain as an immense crushing force threatens to tear him apart, and then nothing.