He remembered cold.
The kind that wrapped around your bones and didn't let go.
He remembered the streetlights flickering above him. The way the rain hit the pavement like falling glass. The silence of a world that didn't care he was there — bleeding, broken, fading.
And then… nothing.
No pain. No sound. Not even darkness at first.
Just gone.
But now—
Light.
No… not light.
A space without form.
A void that stretched in every direction, deeper than distance, quieter than death.
Reiji's eyes fluttered open.
He gasped softly — not from fear, but from absence.
There was no weight pressing on his chest. No voices in his head telling him he wasn't enough. No memory clawing at his ribs.
Only stillness.
Only breath.
"…Where… am I?"
His voice barely echoed.
There was no ground, yet he didn't fall. No wind, but his clothes gently stirred. It was like the world had forgotten what rules to follow — and so had settled into waiting.
Reiji tried to move, and space obeyed. Not like walking — more like drifting. Like thought.
And then—
A chime.
Soft. Gentle. Familiar.
Before him, something flickered into being — a glowing panel suspended in the air, like glass woven from moonlight.
He narrowed his eyes.
It looked like a game UI. No — the game.
Origin Dev: Supreme Sandbox.
The interface he'd spent years escaping into. The only place that had ever felt like it belonged to him.
A single option pulsed on the screen:
> [View Your World]
His throat caught.
"…No way."
He reached out and tapped it.
At once, the interface unfolded, revealing a rotating globe — vast, beautiful, breathtaking. Oceans shimmered with bioluminescent tides. Mountain ranges coiled like sleeping giants. Skies danced with auroras and arcane storms.
Reiji staggered closer, breath caught in his chest.
"This is… my world…"
Orivis.
The world he designed. The one he made during long nights when reality hurt too much.
He'd added magic veins under crystal forests. Floating isles over beastlands. Cities that thrived on starlight and ruin.
It was all here.
He didn't even remember building some parts. But they felt like his.
Then—
A voice.
Soft. Feminine. Ethereal.
> "Welcome, Great One."
Reiji's breath hitched.
It wasn't a sound in his ears. It was a presence. A vibration in his ribs. A whisper threaded through the very air around him.
"…Who's there?"
> "The world you shaped. The echo of your thoughts. The soul you unknowingly breathed into being."
He blinked.
"The… world?"
> "Yes. I am Orivis — not in form, but in voice. My lands, skies, and seas are yours. My voice was born from your loneliness… and your hope."
He took a step back, eyes scanning the black around him.
"This isn't real. This is some afterlife hallucination. I died, didn't I?"
> "You did not die. You crossed."
> "Your spirit, too burdened to remain, followed the path you built. The bond between you and this realm pulled you through the threshold."
Reiji stared down at his hands.
Still his hands.
"…So this is real?"
> "As real as the pain you fled. As real as the dreams that kept you breathing."
> "You are the Origin. And I… your creation."
He stepped forward again, this time slower.
"I can… control all of this?"
> "Yes, Great One. This realm has no laws but yours."
He reached out — hesitating only a moment — and touched the globe.
Light surged.
Warm. Gentle. Alive.
It wrapped around him like water and wind, lifting him from the void with a quiet hum.
"What— what's happening?!"
> "I wished for you to see it. To feel it. To understand the beauty you gave shape to."
And then—
He was flying.
Above forests of glowing leaves. Through skies of storm-lit wonder. Past islands suspended in golden aether, waterfalls flowing backward in defiance of gravity.
Reiji spun, panicked.
His heart pounded, but not with fear — with awe.
"I'm not… I can't be flying…!"
> "You are not flesh here. You are intention. And intention soars."
Slowly, he stopped flailing and let himself float — no, glide — above the land.
He looked down. A clearing.
A forest of pale trees, whispering in wind. A shimmering stream below.
"I… want to go down."
> "As you wish."
The world moved with him — not pushed, not forced. It followed.
Moments later, his feet touched the grass with impossible lightness.
He was standing beside the stream now — cool, clean, gently singing over stone.
He crouched and touched it. Real. Wet. Alive.
But there was no one.
No animals. No villagers. No spirits or cities.
"Why is it so empty?" he whispered.
> "Because you have not breathed life into it."
> "You shaped the rules. The lands. The energy. But you never gave it people. That choice… was left for your return."
He stared at the rippling water.
No reflection. Just potential.
"I'm supposed to create… life?"
> "Yes, Great One. You may shape hearts as you shaped skies. Souls as you shaped stars."
> "And I will guide you, if you wish it."
He was quiet for a long time.
The air moved gently. Birds had not yet been born. But wind still sang — waiting for something more.
"I don't even know what kind of god I'm supposed to be."
> "You don't need to know."
> "You just need to choose."
He closed his eyes.
He saw the world he'd left behind. Its pain. Its cruelty. Its emptiness.
And then he opened them again.
And saw this.
Not perfect. Not finished.
But his.
"…Alright," he said quietly.
"Let's begin."
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To be continued in Chapter 3: The Breath of Creation
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