Water.
Sky.
Auror tides shifting like breath across a celestial horizon.
His avatar stood at the edge of a suspended oceanic cliff in the Upper Plane.
Level 249.
Peak Divine Emperor.
A spear rested lightly in his grip.
Twelve others in the world shared his level.
Only twenty-one Divine Emperors existed at all.
The air shimmered with authority.
His UI flickered briefly.
He dismissed it.
No need.
He moved.
Fluid. Precise.
The ocean parted as he entered the submerged ruin instance. Ancient pillars rose beneath translucent currents. Pressure bent light into wavering patterns.
His stream went live automatically.
Chat exploded.
"Clean footwork!"
"Water pressure control insane!"
"That micro-adjust was nasty!"
Ash smiled faintly.
It was just a side quest.
Nothing dramatic.
He stepped forward—
And the sky split.
Not in-game.
In reality.
A lightning bolt tore through the atmosphere above his apartment.
White. Blinding. Instant.
It pierced the roof and struck the neural pod directly.
The safety grid failed.
Neural circuits overloaded.
The interior ignited.
Ash screamed—
Not through an avatar.
In flesh.
Pain detonated through his nervous system as electricity surged along the neural interface.
Heat swallowed him.
Burning plastic.
Melting insulation.
Overloaded synapses firing beyond limit.
The pod became a coffin of fire.
His vision shattered into white static.
The stream stuttered violently.
"Is this an event?"
"Bro what's happening?"
"Ash???"
The feed cut.
Smoke filled his lungs.
His final thought was not heroic.
Not ambitious.
Just confused.
…this is stupid.
Then—
Darkness.
Far away.
Under a sky without satellites.
Without electricity.
Without safety protocols.
A barefoot boy ran across packed dirt.
Seven years old.
Thin.
Laughing as he chased another child through the orphanage courtyard.
Cracked stone. Dry grass. Sunlight.
He tripped.
His foot struck the uneven edge of an old well.
His body pitched forward.
A sickening crack.
His head hit stone.
Blood spilled across his temple.
He collapsed.
Children screamed.
The world tilted.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Inside that darkness—
Water.
Fire.
Screens.
Leaderboard.
Rank 9.
A voice saying, "Overgod update next quarter."
Heat.
Smoke.
Pain.
The boy's small body trembled violently.
Fever surged.
Sweat soaked his skin.
Images flashed in fragments—
Skyscrapers.
Glass cities.
AI models training on distributed clusters.
A white neural pod.
A spear cutting through oceanic sky.
He gasped and opened his eyes.
The sky above him was vast.
Too vast.
No aircraft.
No contrails.
No distant hum of civilization.
Only wind.
And far away—
A roar.
Low. Predatory. Alive.
His hand rose shakily to his head.
Sticky.
Warm.
Blood.
His vision swam.
Memories crashed into place—not gently, but like shards grinding together.
Earth.
Virtual reality.
Lightning.
Fire.
Death.
And now—
This.
Wooden buildings. Dust. Children staring.
He wasn't in a hospital.
There were no sirens.
No emergency drones.
He tried to sit up.
Pain exploded through his skull.
Fragments aligned more firmly.
A novel.
The Rise of the Holy One.
The unfinished ending.
Eskarnia.
Auror beasts.
Noble corruption.
A world that devoured the weak.
His breathing quickened.
He had been safe.
Predictable job. Stable income. Controlled risk.
Now—
He was not.
A tear slid down the side of his face.
He didn't notice.
Above him, the sky of Eskarnia stretched endlessly.
Somewhere beyond this village, Auror Beasts hunted.
Somewhere beyond the cities, nobles ruled.
Somewhere beyond mortality, godhood existed.
And he—
Was seven.
Bleeding.
Helpless.
Alone.
Deep inside his mind—
An ocean stirred faintly.
Two presences hovered in the dark.
Silent.
Waiting.
He did not look toward them.
Not yet.
He was too busy trying not to cry.