"It's so dark, I can't see a thing," I thought.
I find myself enveloped in a thick, oppressive darkness, its weight pressing down upon me like an anchor in an endless abyss. The hours bleed into one another, for time here feels meaningless, stretching out into an unfathomable eternity. I drift aimlessly through this shadowy expanse, wrapped in a heavy silence that seems to suffocate my very being, leaving me disoriented and lost just as the stillness begins to coil around my spirit like a serpent, a brilliant, searing light breaks through the murky veil above me. It shatters the gloom with its incandescent glow, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. Summoning every ounce of courage, I propel myself upward, my heart racing with hope as I navigate towards this luminous beacon, yearning for freedom and clarity.
As I rise from the depths of slumber, the gentle embrace of morning light wraps around me like a tender cocoon, gradually dissolving the lingering shadows of the night. My eyelids flutter open, revealing the serene familiarity of my room, where the golden rays spill through the delicate lace of the curtains, painting the walls with intricate patterns of soft illumination. A wave of confusion intermingled with profound relief sweeps over me as I drink in the comforting details of my sanctuary—the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting in from the kitchen, the faint chirping of birds celebrating the dawn outside, and the warm, inviting colors that surround me, each a reminder of home.
"How long have I been out?" I thought to myself while searching for my glasses.
A sudden, jarring Crack! Slices through the stillness of the morning, echoing ominously from somewhere below. Heart racing, I push myself up from the warmth of my bed, but a wave of dizziness crashes over me when my feet hit the cold, hard floor. I grip the smooth, cool surface of the wooden wall, its chill grounding me as I fight to regain my equilibrium. My limbs feel heavy, as if gravity has doubled its hold on me, the fatigue wrapping around my body like a thick blanket. With each reluctant step towards the staircase, I can feel the weight of my weariness pressing down, turning the simple act of moving into an arduous journey.
As I descend the spiral staircase, my heart races, each step a staggering effort that seems to pull at the very fibers of my being. An oppressive weakness has taken hold of me, making the journey feel like an epic struggle. At last, I reach the cold, stone floor of the dimly lit living room and come to an abrupt halt, allowing my eyes to roam over the scene before me.
Alice stands there, beside her, a girl who exudes an aura of quiet strength, renowned throughout the kingdom for her extraordinary healing abilities. The air is tinged with a palpable sense of hope, reflecting the luminous power that she brings with her, even in this weary space.
In their hands, they cradle my shattered glasses, the frames contorted like the aftermath of a storm, and the lenses fractured, catching the light with a mournful glint—symbols of my recent battles. We lock gazes for what feels like an eternity, our eyes exchanging a profound silence that speaks volumes. A heavy understanding hangs in the air, mingling with the lingering threads of anxiety and hope, weaving together in a tapestry of shared emotions that envelops us both.
"Why are you holding onto my glasses?" I finally say.
"We were just trying to fix it." Alice looks a bit anxious.
The healer, acutely aware of the dense, almost suffocating tension that coils tightly between us, swiftly decides to retreat. With a hurried glance over her shoulder, her eyes shimmer with a poignant blend of worry and resignation, revealing the gravity of the situation before she glides like a shadow down the dimly lit hallway. This sudden departure leaves Alice in the stark silence of the room, her face a turbulent canvas of conflicting emotions. The repercussions of her choices weigh heavily on her, evident in the way her shoulders slump, and her hands twist and fidget nervously at her sides, betraying the tempest of doubt and anxiety swirling within her. Every fleeting moment stretches taut, as if time itself holds its breath, waiting for her to grapple with the storm she has unleashed.
"Sorry about that! I swear I won't mess with your glasses again," she pleaded.
"It's okay," I said, and looked for a way to fix it.
As I blink in sheer astonishment, a wave of realization washes over me: I can see everything with an astonishing clarity, liberated from the familiar weight of my glasses that usually rest upon my nose. Confusion swirls within me as I absorb my surroundings; colors burst forth with a vibrancy I've never before experienced, each hue richer and more intense than I could have imagined. The details of my environment spring to life; the intricate patterns on the wallpaper dance before my eyes, every swirl and flourish sharp and pronounced. Sunlight filters in, illuminating dust motes that twirl through the air like tiny fairies, each one shimmering with a brilliance that captivates my gaze. It's as though a veil has been lifted, revealing a world brimming with clarity and depth, every moment infused with a new dimension of beauty. Leaves of the trees shimmer under the sunlight, and even the distant mountains appear sharp against the sky. I glance around, my heart racing with a mix of wonder and disbelief, marveling at this newfound vision that transforms the mundane into something extraordinary.
"What the heck, I can see everything now?" I mused, looking totally confused.
As I stand there, my mind a tempest of swirling thoughts, Alice quietly slips away, her figure fading as she heads to her guild meeting. In that fleeting moment, her absence barely registers; I am ensnared by the intoxicating rush of a newfound vision that beckons me, leading me down an uncharted path. Suddenly, a vivid memory surges forth, enveloping me like a tidal wave—the moment of my rebirth. It washes over me with a breathtaking clarity, bringing with it an indescribable sense of relief and profound healing, as if the very essence of life itself has been rekindled within me.
As memories surge forth like a tempest, a sudden wave of nausea crashes over me. It's a visceral reaction, as if my body is rebelling against the flood of bittersweet recollections, heavy with the echoes of the pain I endured in death—an anguish I had never fully grasped until this very moment. Thankfully, I find solace in solitude, enveloped in these private reflections, with no eyes upon me to bear witness to this inner turmoil.
As I double over, the acrid taste of bile surges up from the depths of my stomach, clawing its way into my throat. The physical discomfort wraps around me like an unwelcome shadow, yet it's surprisingly tolerable, a stark contrast to the searing torment that once engulfed me. I inhale deeply, letting the air fill my lungs, grounding myself amidst the chaotic storm of sensations that flicker around me. Chaos of emotions and sensations, trying to recollect my thoughts while wrestling with the vestiges of a pain that still echoes within me.
"I'm too weak right now," I groan.
As I prepare to step outside, a relentless vice grips my skull, each throb resonating painfully with the rhythm of my heartbeat. The effort to move feels monumental, like trudging through mud as my body rebels against my will. My bleary gaze drifts toward the kitchen, and there, propped against the wall, I spot a slender stick—an object that suddenly seems to embody hope. With a surge of determination, I lunge toward it, but my feet betray me, and I stumble, a sharp jolt of pain coursing through my limbs as I crash to the ground.
Gritting my teeth against the anguish, I summon every ounce of strength I have left and begin to crawl, dragging my weary body closer to that elusive stick. My muscles scream in protest, each inch forward a battle against exhaustion and despair pooling in my chest like a dark, suffocating cloud. The ache is overwhelming, tempting dismal thoughts to weave through my mind, but I push them away, fixating on the glimmer of hope that lies just within reach.
At last, my fingers wrap around the polished stick, its cool surface grounding me as I lean on it for support, attempting to regain my equilibrium. Drawing in a deep, fortifying breath, I slowly shuffle towards the entrance, where the crisp, invigorating air rushes to meet me, wrapping around me like a nurturing embrace. For a brief, enchanting moment, I wish this were nothing more than a vivid dream, a merciless fantasy from which I could awaken, as the reality of my pain is an unrelenting companion. But this is not a haze of sleep; the fierce throb pulsing in my head leaves no doubt—I am very much awake.
With a resolute heart, I make my way to the library, a sanctuary of knowledge and wisdom. Today, I seek a tome that speaks of healing abilities, a guide that I fervently believe could light my path to recovery. As I push open the imposing wooden doors, the unmistakable scent of aged paper and polished wood envelops me, and a wave of curious stares greets me from the array of patrons scattered throughout the vast reading room. This sensation is all too familiar; I've become accustomed to the weight of scrutiny that often hovers around me, bearing the remnants of disdain. Yet today, an unexpected current flows through the air, stirring something unusual within the hushed atmosphere. Whispers drift like soft feathers, no longer tainted by malice but instead tinged with admiration. I overhear snippets of conversation, recounting the small, kind gestures I've offered in times past—memories of goodwill that seem to echo warmly in the shadows of dusty shelves.
A subtle change washes over me as I catch sight of several people in the kingdom extending their hands, offering food that glistens with promise. Their smiles radiate warmth, a gesture of unexpected kindness that sends a flicker of hope through my weakened state. Yet, my hands tremble like fragile leaves caught in a breeze, betraying my inability to grasp even the most basic offerings. As I search the room, my gaze lands on Thalia; her familiar silhouette hunches over a task, the soft glow of candlelight casting delicate shadows on her features. In that moment, the world around me fades as I find solace in her presence, a beacon amidst the uncertainty. Display of fresh bread, her brow furrowed in concentration. She seems absorbed in her task but there's a warmth in her presence that gives me a flicker of hope as I navigate this painful journey toward healing.
"Thalia, I need your help…" I reached out to her for assistance.
As she looks my way, a spark of recognition ignites in her eyes. She glides towards me, her movements fluid and graceful, like a dancer caught in the soft embrace of the wind. The gentle breeze tousles her hair, creating a halo effect that frames her features beautifully. With each step, she radiates a sense of kindness and a readiness to offer assistance, making her presence feel like a comforting balm.
"What's up? Why are you walking like you're ancient and where are your glasses?" she asked while helping carry everyone's gifts and guides into the library.
"I'm feeling kinda tired, but I'll fill you in once we're inside the library," I said as she helped me get in.
As we enter, a hush envelops the room, the soft light filtering through the windows revealing an untouched stillness—no one is here yet; it's still closed. Thalia gracefully retrieves a chair, placing it invitingly for me to settle in, and pours a steaming cup of fragrant tea that fills the air with its soothing aroma. She presents an assortment of treats, thoughtfully curated from the gifts everyone has given me, creating a delightful spread for our impromptu snack.
"Why is everyone suddenly being nice to me?" I asked her.
"Adventurers have been going around telling everyone in the kingdoms how amazing you are," she said, taking a sip of her tea.
"I guess I should give them thanks after I fully recover," I said, scratching my hair.
"What went down with you in three days?" she asked, sounding pretty curious.
"Three days? Hold up, I've... been asleep three days straight?" I asked.
"Yeah, I got the info from Alice." She said without a fuss.
"So what happened?" she asked again.
"I don't really know what to say, but I kinda came back to life out of nowhere," I said.
"Wait, you came back to life? How'd that happen?" she asked.
"I'm not really sure, but I can still feel the pain, and I got my arm and my leg back," I said.
"Wait, what?" she said, a bit surprised.
"Got any healing spells I can pick up? My legs are messed up, and I can't walk right," I said.
"Let me check it out," she said.
She studies my legs with an intense focus, her fingers gliding over my skin as if searching for hidden irregularities beneath the surface. Despite her meticulous examination, nothing unusual reveals itself. Yet, I can't help but notice a palpable shift in her demeanor; the self-assurance she once radiated has dissipated, replaced by a palpable tension. She casts furtive glances in my direction, her brow knitting into a delicate furrow, as though she's grappling with unvoiced questions that linger heavy in the air. An invisible veil of awkwardness has descended between us, twisting our once-easy interactions into something strained and uncomfortable, thickening the atmosphere with unspoken thoughts.
"Maybe you're just feeling a bit off, and that's why you can't walk right. You should take it easy." She said.
"So is that why I can't use my magic either?" I asked.
"Indeed," she replied with confidence.
After our conversation, I felt it was time to leave. As I made my way towards the exit, I decided to stop by the Adventure lobby to express my gratitude. However, when I arrived, I found the place eerily empty. Disappointed but determined, I grabbed a piece of parchment and began to write a letter to thank everyone for their support. I carefully placed it on a table before quietly slipping out, hoping it would convey my appreciation.
Even as I walked away, my curiosity about my newfound powers lingered in my mind like a whisper, urging me to explore further. Yet, there was a gnawing fear deep within me—Thalia's previous experience with her magic book echoed in my thoughts. I had borrowed it once before, only to lose it in a moment of clumsiness, and I couldn't bear the thought of disappointing her again. The memory of that day still clung to me, the day I first discovered the wonders of magic, and how exhilarating yet terrifying that knowledge could be.
Deciding against seeking Thalia's help again, I headed home instead, certain that I would likely end up in the same predicament if I asked her for another book. When I finally arrived at my backyard, something else caught my attention. Perched precariously on the head of a Slime, I spotted an old, dusty tome. Intrigued, I stepped closer but quickly realized that my current state was too weak for me to reach it.
Frustrated, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to focus on the familiar sensation of mana that I had started to learn to harness. I concentrated on feeling it flow within me, letting its warmth fill my senses. Gradually, I felt an invigorating energy surge through me, and to my surprise, I was able to stand up straighter and walk more steadily.
Encouraged by this progress, I scanned the ground for a nearby rock. With a newfound resolve, I channeled my energy and focused on my wind magic, directing it towards the rock. In that moment, as I unleashed a gust of wind, the rock shot forward, soaring through the air with a force I had never experienced before. A mix of exhilaration and fear coursed through me—this was just the beginning of my magical journey.
"Wind bullet!" I yelled.
This time, I triumphed in mastering my magic, and an exhilarating thrill courses through me. Cradling the ancient, weathered tome in my hands, its cover adorned with intricate symbols, it begins to emit a soft, golden glow that dances in the shadows and fills the dusty air around me with an enchanting light. Slowly, the title emerges from the depths of the darkness, shimmering like a beacon of promise and discovery. Before my eyes: "Story of God." Intrigued and unable to resist, I settle down, choosing the allure of this mysterious tome over the comforts of my cozy home.
As I immerse myself in its pages, I am whisked away to a vibrant realm where countless worlds are woven into being by a majestic pantheon of divine deities. The narrative begins with Elyria, the resplendent Goddess of Creation, whose exquisite artistry meticulously crafted the cosmos, infusing it with life and vitality. With every stroke of her ethereal brush, she breathed existence into stars and planets, bringing forth lush landscapes and endless skies that shimmer with possibility. Fabric of existence. Next, the tale introduces Chronas, the God of Time, who weaves the threads of fate and ensures that every moment is precisely aligned.
Then emerges Verion, the formidable God of Judgment, an imposing figure cloaked in robes of deep ebony, whose piercing gaze seems to see through the very souls of mortals and deities alike. In his hands, he balances his scales of justice, meticulously weighing the deeds of all with an unwavering precision, leaving no action unaccounted for. Following closely is Lunara, the ethereal Goddess of Dreams, radiant and serene, her presence like a gentle moonlit breeze that envelops and soothes. With each whispered breath, she guides the visions of all beings as they succumb to slumber, intricately weaving together their hopes and fears into vivid tapestries of dreams. The narrative then unfolds to reveal Kaelthor, the God of Chaos, a swirling tempest of energy, his spirit crackling with unpredictable fervor. With an insatiable appetite for the unexpected, he injects an exhilarating sense of uncertainty into the cosmos, constantly shifting the threads of fate in thrilling and unforeseen directions.
As I delve deeper into the pages, I find myself captivated by the serene yet formidable presence of the Goddess of Fate, Elena. Draped in flowing robes that shimmer like starlight, she delicately weaves the intricate threads of destinies, guiding the paths of all living creatures with a deft hand. Each strand she touches glows with purpose, intertwining lives in a magnificent tapestry of existence.
At the pinnacle of this divine hierarchy reigns Aurethon, the majestic King of Gods. His commanding figure exudes authority, with a crown of radiant light perched upon his brow and a commanding aura that inspires both reverence and awe. He embodies the perfect union of wisdom and strength, overseeing the harmonious balance of all realms with an unwavering hand, ensuring that the delicate fabric of reality remains intact amid the chaos of existence.
These deities, with their unique powers, possess the ability to recreate existence itself, and their presence is felt throughout countless worlds. Each God and Goddess has a distinct role, ensuring the balance of creation, destruction, and everything in between.
As I approach the final chapters of the book, I come across a phrase that sends a shiver down my spine—a word that suggests the presence of something both perilous and transformative. This chilling revelation hints at a looming danger, shrouded in mystery, that captivates my imagination while simultaneously invoking a sense of trepidation. I find myself torn between an insatiable curiosity about what lies ahead and an instinctive caution urging me to tread carefully. The tension builds as I delve deeper, eager to uncover the secrets that may drastically change everything I thought I knew.
"Someone can take down all these Gods, and that someone isn't you, Zin," the book said.
I'm feeling quite perplexed about this book. How does it know my name? It almost feels like it's speaking directly to me. Additionally, I'm curious about the author. Who wrote this intriguing work, and what inspired them to personalize it in such a captivating way? Book? While I'm confused, a member of the Holy Knights, Sora comes to visit me because Alice told him to. He is the person who wants me to accept the mission to kill the demon king when we were in the meeting. He is a tall person, and he has brown spiky hair, and he always wears a headband.
"Oh, hey?" I said.
"Yeah, I'm Sora Sinclair, part of the Holy Knights," he replied confidently.
"Right, I know who you are and why you're here," I shot back.
"Alice asked me to check on you," he explained.
"Got it. So, does this place have any churches?" I wondered.
"Yep," he answered.
"Can you take me there?" I asked.
Sora paused for a moment, taking in his surroundings and reflecting on the day's events before finally nodding in agreement. As we made our way to the church, I couldn't help but notice his warm demeanor; he greeted and assisted several people along the path, embodying a sense of community and kindness that was truly heartwarming.
Standing before me was a majestic white church, its tall steeple reaching confidently towards the sky. The sunlight glinted off its pristine façade, giving it an almost ethereal glow. The intricate details of the architecture, from the arched windows to the ornate wooden doors, added to its brilliance. As I approached closer, I could feel a sense of peace enveloping me, making me eager to step inside and experience the serenity that awaited. The church, there a statue of the Goddess of Fate, Elena. I step closer, feeling nervous. A light appears and I get teleported into an area, around me is a mist, and in front of me is a person on a lay on a long sofa, while holding a cup of wine, I think.
"Greetings, my beloved Zin, Zin Fortis." That person gives a smile and directs their gaze towards me.