"Wow… you've finally arrived in your world."
The voice did not echo.
It did not thunder across the emptiness like a god proclaiming dominion.
It simply was.
Calm. Measured. Almost gentle.
And that was what unsettled him.
He stood in a place that had no air, no scent, no temperature. There was no sky arching above him, no ground beneath his feet. Yet he did not fall. He did not float. He simply existed.
Every direction was the same—an endless, colorless expanse that felt less like darkness and more like the absence of definition itself. If he tried to focus on a single point in the void, it slipped away from perception, as though his mind refused to assign boundaries to something that had none.
And before him—
There was something.
He could see it, but the act of seeing hurt.
Not physically. Not with pain.
It hurt the way staring at a paradox hurts.
It had a shape, and yet no outline. It possessed a presence, yet no mass. It radiated a faint luminosity, but it was not made of light.
His instincts screamed that it was alive.
His reason insisted it was impossible.
"I cannot tell you everything yet," the being said.
The words did not travel through air. They settled inside him, soft as breath, intimate as thought.
"But do one thing."
A pause.
Time felt different here. Not stretched. Not compressed. Simply irrelevant.
"Enjoy your life. Until the day you truly need power."
His chest tightened.
"Wait—" he began, but his voice came out muted, swallowed by the emptiness. "What does that even mean?"
The being did not answer directly.
Instead, light bloomed.
It did not descend from above or rise from below. It appeared between them, unfolding like a flower made of radiance. At first it looked golden—pure, warm, almost comforting.
But the longer he stared, the more he realized it was not gold at all.
Crimson pulsed within it like the heartbeat of a dying star. Threads of deep cosmic blue coiled and uncoiled like distant galaxies. Violet flickered at its edges, hues that seemed to vibrate at frequencies his eyes were never meant to perceive.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
It felt ancient.
No—older than ancient.
As if it had existed before the idea of time itself.
The light pulsed once.
The void trembled in response.
Then it moved.
Straight toward him.
He tried to step back—but the concept of "back" did not exist here. His body reacted instinctively, muscles tightening, lungs drawing in breath that wasn't there.
The light reached him.
It did not burn.
It did not pierce.
It slipped through him.
Not through skin.
Not through bone.
It entered somewhere deeper—into the quiet place he had never known how to name. The silent chamber behind his thoughts. The hidden echo that had always felt slightly detached from his flesh.
His soul.
For a brief, impossible instant, he felt himself split in two.
One part anchored in something fragile and human.
The other vast and unbound.
Then—
They fused.
Not violently.
Not explosively.
But with recognition.
Like two halves of a broken mirror aligning perfectly.
His breath shuddered.
"This is not a system," the being said.
The words carried weight now. Finality.
"It is not an extended being. It is not a gift from another entity."
Inside him, the colors shimmered faintly, settling.
"This… is a fragment of your own soul."
The idea struck him harder than any physical blow could.
"My soul?" he whispered.
"No matter how many worlds you travel. No matter how many times you die. This light will remain with you."
The void seemed to contract slightly, as if acknowledging the statement.
"It began with you. It will end with you."
Something shifted in the distance.
He felt it before he saw it—a subtle ripple in the fabric of nothingness. A reminder that this place was not truly empty. It was waiting.
"For now," the being continued, "your memories will be sealed."
His pulse spiked.
"What? Why?"
"Until you settle into this life. Until you understand what humanity truly means."
A flicker of irritation rose in him.
"I'm human. I understand humans just fine."
Silence.
Then—
"The way you perceive humans now… is not what humans truly are."
The words did not accuse.
They simply observed.
He opened his mouth to argue.
No words came.
"Go."
The single syllable carried authority.
The void fractured.
Light shattered like glass struck by a hammer. Cracks raced across the emptiness, splintering into blinding brilliance. He felt himself pulled—downward? Inward? It was impossible to tell.
"You will not need this power… unless this world faces an apocalypse."
Apocalypse.
The word echoed.
"I hope your life gives birth to a new kind of super being."
Then—
Nothing.
—
He jerked upright in bed.
The ceiling stared back at him, pale and familiar.
A fan spun lazily above, its soft hum grounding him in reality.
His lungs dragged in air greedily.
Sweat clung to his skin.
"What the hell…"
His voice sounded small in the quiet room.
He ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling slightly.
"That was such a bad dream."
He looked around.
His desk cluttered with notes and empty snack wrappers. Clothes draped over the chair like abandoned flags. The faint scent of last night's instant noodles lingered stubbornly.
Normal.
Everything was painfully normal.
He looked at his hands.
They were steady now.
"I'm alive, right? Yeah… yeah, I'm alive."
He flexed his fingers.
Warmth.
Weight.
Reality.
"Why am I seeing God in my dreams already?" he muttered. "Did I overdo the prayers or something?"
He rubbed his face hard, as if scrubbing away lingering fragments of the void.
"No, no. I'm still young. If I start seeing divine beings at this age, what's even left in life?"
He swung his legs off the bed.
The floor was cool against his feet.
"Calm down. Water. Drink water."
He reached for the bottle on his desk and took a long gulp.
Cold liquid slid down his throat.
Solid. Tangible.
Grounding.
He exhaled slowly.
The dream began to blur at the edges, details slipping away like mist under sunlight.
There had been light.
A voice.
Something about power.
He frowned.
"Apocalypse…" he murmured.
The word felt distant now, almost ridiculous.
Knock. Knock.
He froze.
"…Who's that?"
Knock. Knock.
"Bro, open the door!"
Relief flooded him.
He laughed weakly.
"Oh, come in! Why are you knocking like you're breaking in?"
The door creaked open.
His best friend leaned against the frame, arms crossed, expression already judgmental.
"Why didn't you open it yourself? Tell me first—are you even awake?"
"I'm awake. Do I ever wake up late?"
His friend stared at him.
"Yes. Every. Single. Day."
"That's defamation."
His friend stepped inside and surveyed the room like an inspector assessing a crime scene.
"And this room," he said dramatically, "looks like a disaster zone."
"You clean it for me anyway."
"We clean it because if we don't, society collapses."
He laughed—genuine this time.
The lingering chill from the dream receded slightly.
"So, what's the plan today?" he asked.
"What plan?" his friend shot back. "Placement drive, genius. Last semester. Everyone has to go."
He blinked.
"Oh… that."
"You didn't go, did you?"
"Did you?"
His friend's grin widened.
"You know my dad has a business. I'm just here to collect a degree. After that? I take over."
He forced a smirk.
"Must be nice."
"Jealous?"
"Why would I be jealous?"
"Because I've got a guaranteed future."
He leaned back in his chair.
"I'll build something bigger."
The words left his mouth before he could filter them.
His friend raised an eyebrow.
"Confidence. I like it."
But beneath the banter, something tightened in his chest.
A guaranteed future.
He didn't have one.
He had loans. Expectations. A fragile dream that he couldn't even articulate properly.
And somewhere deep inside—
A faint, almost imperceptible warmth stirred.
He shifted uncomfortably.
His friend suddenly leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"So… when's the party?"
"What party?"
"I heard you approached a girl yesterday."
He stiffened.
"…What?"
"She's giving you her answer today."
His stomach dropped.
"When did I—"
"Bro. The whole college knows."
He covered his face.
"Oh great. So you're here to enjoy the show?"
"No," his friend said solemnly, pulling a chair. "I'll sit on the side with popcorn and Coke. Full 3D experience."
"Shut up."
"There are only two outcomes," his friend continued, holding up two fingers. "One—she slaps you."
"Don't curse me."
"Or two—she accepts."
The room seemed suddenly smaller.
His heartbeat picked up.
He tried to laugh it off.
"If she accepts?"
"I'm throwing Coke in the air. Celebration mode."
"And if she rejects?"
His friend shrugged.
"I'll drag you out before the crowd eats you alive. I won't let them kill you."
He stared at him for a long moment.
"You know… because of you, I don't even need enemies."
His friend grinned.
"That's fine. We can be both—friends and enemies."
He shook his head, smiling despite himself.
"Fine. What do you want for dinner?"
"Chicken."
"Chicken it is."
They talked a little longer—about trivial things. Professors they disliked. Exams they barely passed. Rumors floating around campus.
Normal conversations.
Normal worries.
Outside the window, sunlight streamed in, illuminating dust motes drifting lazily in the air.
Ordinary morning.
Ordinary life.
Yet as he stood there, laughing with his friend—
He felt it.
A flicker.
Deep inside his chest.
Warm.
Not painful.
Not overwhelming.
Just… present.
He placed a hand over his heart instinctively.
For a split second—
He could have sworn something shimmered beneath his skin.
Golden.
Watching.
Waiting.