They say that once you glimpse the grand design of the gods, everything begins to fray—down to the very fabric of creation, the origin of existence, and the hands that stitched it all together.
Death.
A word that every being recognizes, yet never fully understands. No matter how far you run or how tightly you cling to life, death always finds you. Its grip is unrelenting—cold, inevitable.
What lies beyond death? To most, it's a question without answer. But on Earth 77, people like me don't get to wonder—we know. After death, our souls are ferried to a place called the Sanctuary. A name that suggests peace, but peace is the last thing you'll find there.
The Sanctuary is a realm overseen by Vitalis, the god of life, worshipped across countless chosen worlds. Upon arrival, each soul is assigned a role—a purpose—meant to prepare them for ascension. Grand Wizard, Priest of Purity, Champion of Balance… names that hold weight, purpose, and expectation.
But these aren't honorary titles; they're obligations. You must complete trials, earn merit, and survive challenges crafted by gods themselves. For those who succeed, the reward is divine: a chance to enter the Trials of the Gods and, if victorious, rise as one of them—to command your own world within the endless hierarchy of the divine.
I should've had a guide like the others—a divine escort or celestial path. But I was an anomaly. No god greeted me. No divine hand carried me to the Sanctuary.
I arrived alone.
Like I always have.
My end came swiftly, at seventeen. I was ready to leave the house of horrors I called home. But then came the argument—loud, venomous. My father's fury was volcanic. He shoved me, again and again, until I teetered near the staircase, begging him with my eyes to stop.
But he didn't.
With one last shove, I fell. I'll never forget the expression on his face—half horror, half satisfaction—as my body tumbled. My bones snapped mid-air. My arms flailed, reaching for something—anything—but he never reached back. Not until the very end, when my breath left me. Then, and only then, did his hand extend.
But by then, it was too late.
He chose to act only when my fate was sealed.
The pain that followed consumed me. That agony became my shadow, my only companion in the void. Maybe that's why they gave me the name Cipher—a blank space, a nonentity. To me, it's less a name and more a reminder: I am no one.
I faded, unseen and unwanted. A ghost watching from the sidelines, always looking in, never living. My world became theirs. I watched as they laughed, bled, struggled, and triumphed, while I remained trapped, cursed to witness their glory from afar.
Envy replaced sorrow. Hatred buried hope.
I hated them. Hated how they lived, how they had what I never could. Bonds. Purpose. Fire in their hearts. They fought monsters while I battled nothing but silence. I could only observe, my soul locked in purgatory, whispering through the cracks in reality, aching to belong.
They fought for titles. For ascension. For godhood.
And me?
I wasn't even allowed to try.
I wasn't chosen. I wasn't destined. I simply existed. My arrival to the Sanctuary was a fluke, and even within its divine halls, I remained hollow—an echo of a boy whose body shattered on the steps of home.
Empty. That's what I became.
Emptiness isn't just a lack of feeling—it's the erosion of everything. No joy. No sorrow. Just numbness. I broke so thoroughly that even pain abandoned me. And still… I remained.
No longer a human. Not quite a god. A soul. A cipher.
Now, like so many times before, I'm hovering again. Watching another battle unfold beneath me. Two figures facing down a level three Ring Beast—a monstrosity tall as a spire, draped in white fur like a celestial wolf. Golden plates spiral across its body, rooting it to the ground like ancient tree roots turned to armor.
Again, I am the invisible observer.
"Mika, I'll take the right flank—you hit the left. Just like we drilled," says the red-haired girl, her fists bound in cracked gauntlets—barely holding together.
Her partner, Rellio, clutches a staff pulsing with raw mana.
"Chi and magic hybrids," I mutter quietly. "Or maybe that girl's using a relic. Hard to tell."
With fire in her eyes, Mika charges. Sparks flare as she slams her fists together, a bright warning to the beast. The creature responds, tail whipping toward her like a guillotine. She leaps—barely dodging—then races up its tail with impossible grace.
The beast roars, a sound that splits the sky and shatters the air. Debris levitates, as glowing green orbs spiral around it, shooting beams of condensed energy. Mika grabs onto a chunk of floating stone, her fingers bleeding against the rough edges.
"Rellio! A little help!" she shouts, dodging another incoming blast.
"I've got you!" Rellio answers. A wave of water crashes forward, redirecting the beam into a nearby cliff. The resulting explosion swallows a section of the battlefield in flame and smoke.
Mika doesn't stop. She launches again, fire trailing from her gauntlets like comet tails. She punches—direct hit. The beast stumbles. Then Rellio strikes, staff aimed like a spear, charging with multicolored light.
The orb detonates—a blinding white spiral that twists the air. The impact is devastating. The beast's head is cleaved from its body, crashing into the earth below.
Their screams of triumph ring through the air. Joy. Adrenaline. Victory.
And me?
All I can do is float in silence, my hands clenched with nothing inside them.
Why can't I feel what they feel?
Why can't I breathe that same fire?
Why can't I live?
I want it. No—I need it.