Chapter 3
Dirt and Godhood
The wind whispered through the strange air like a song he couldn't understand. It smelled faintly of burnt herbs and soil untouched by machines, only magic.
Aki didn't move.
He lay crumpled on the slanted ridge, knees pulled up, forehead pressed into trembling arms. Behind him, a stone cliff stretched out, overlooking the city below, if it could even be called a city. Towers of bone-white stone spiraled like twisted coral, jutting from the earth in patterns that made no sense. Bridges arched across empty air. Green flames lit the still streets.
This was ECARIA. A world he had made.
But all Aki could do was cry.
The cold wind whipped his hair across his face, but he barely noticed. His mouth hung open in a breathless sob. He'd lost track of time—minutes, hours, maybe a day. Time didn't matter anymore. The sun hung behind violet clouds, casting a soft light over the jagged land.
Her voice echoed in his head, again and again.
"Aki!"
That scream—just one word—was all she got out before her head left her shoulders.
He could still see it.
Her body falling.
Her wide eyes.
The blood.
He gagged, bile rising but nothing came out. Just the memory, burned into his mind like a lightning scar.
Aki's voice was barely a rasp.
"Why…?" he whispered. "Why me?"
He stared at the empty sky, hollow and unblinking. As if the heavens might tear open and bring Reya back. As if they might give him answers. But the clouds stayed closed. Silent. Cruel.
"I didn't ask for this… I didn't want this…"
He had been happy. Or at least, peaceful.
Drawing with Reya. Talking nonsense at lunch. Riding trains in silence.
A quiet nobody. That was enough.
Then the message appeared.
"You are now the Creator."
"You are now a God."
Aki's head snapped up, eyes wide and bloodshot.
"God…?" he breathed.
He laughed—a broken, guttural noise that crawled from his throat like vomit.
"You said I'm the God, right? Yeah, I'm a—I'm a—"
His voice cracked. The rage fell away. The tears returned.
He buried his face in his hands, nails digging into his scalp. He wanted to scream until something inside tore. Until the world went silent.
But then his hands stopped.
A desperate, frantic thought bloomed.
What if he could bring her back?
Wasn't he the Creator?
Hadn't the message said so?
"You are now the Creator."
He blinked through tears.
His backpack was gone. His sketchpad, his tablet—all vanished with Manila. With Earth.
But he still had the ground.
And he still had his hands.
He dropped to all fours and clawed at the earth.
The dirt was soft, rich with emotion. It pulsed faintly beneath his fingers, like a heartbeat in the soil. The scent of wild herbs and something electric rose from the ground. A low animal call echoed somewhere far off, but Aki barely heard it.
He dug.
Fingers trembling, nails caked with mud, he scratched lines into the soil.
He tried to draw her face first.
Reya.
Her eyes. The shape of her lashes. The smirk she gave when teasing him.
His fingers shook uncontrollably.
Tears streamed down, splashing into the lines. Mud mixed with sorrow. Her mouth collapsed into a smear. Her eyes twisted. Her face broke apart.
"I'm trying…" he gasped. "I'm trying to save you, Reya… I'm trying to…"
He bit his lip until blood ran. Crimson mixed with brown. He kept carving.
Another line. Another failure. Another smear.
Her smile turned into a wound in the dirt.
This wasn't resurrection.
This was desecration.
He screamed, a raw, broken sound.
He slammed his fists into the earth, scattering the image. His tears didn't stop.
Aki collapsed, forehead pressed to the ground.
"…this… this isn't saving her…"
He didn't know how long he stayed there. The wind brushed over him like a mother's hand, but offered no warmth.
The magic in the air pulsed on, uncaring of a god's grief.
ECARIA, vibrant and alive, cruel, breathed around him. A land made of dreams and nightmares, wild and waiting.
But Aki didn't move.
He lay broken in his own creation.
Not a god.
Just a boy.
Just a boy who wanted to go back.
And then…
Aki stood up.
Slow, stiff. Like his bones didn't want to move.
The wind tousled his hair and dried tear streaks on his face. His legs wobbled beneath him, sore from kneeling so long. But something inside had shifted.
He turned.
Faced the cliff behind him.
It loomed like a silent judge—tall and unmoving.
From where he stood, the drop stretched endlessly into mist and wind. The edges of ECARIA unraveled in the distance—glowing towers of twisted magic, silver trees, serpentine rivers winding through jagged valleys. The world pulsed with arcane breath—alive, strange, vast.
But to Aki it felt far away. Unreal. Like a painting he couldn't touch.
Only the void below felt real.
His bare feet moved forward, one step at a time.
The wind grew colder.
It whispered past his ears like soft voices long gone.
He reached the cliff's edge and looked down.
His breath caught.
A chasm, black and bottomless, yawned before him. Jagged rocks jutted like teeth. Wind screamed between them. The sight made his head spin. One wrong step—just one—and it would be over.
His legs trembled harder.
But still, he stood there, staring into the abyss, crying quietly.
He thought of her.
Reya.
He heard her laugh again, not clearly, just a fragment like a fading dream. She teased him about his serious face. Called him "pouty" when he got flustered about his art. Mocked him for bringing plain rice to lunch, then gave him her dessert anyway.
He thought of her voice saying his name.
Not the scream. No. Just the usual way. "Akiii~," drawn out with a grin. Mischief in her tone.
He remembered how her eyes sparkled talking about things he didn't care about, dumb school gossip, a new drink at the campus vending machine.
And he remembered she stayed anyway.
Even when he didn't answer.
Even when he only mumbled and looked away.
She stayed.
Aki bit his lip.
More tears came.
His fingers clenched.
He thought of his mother.
That faint smile she wore, even when sick, when her body was breaking down. The soft hand brushing his bangs aside. The way she hummed an old tune from a radio show she liked, playing while he sketched.
She never told him to be stronger.
She just held his hand and said, "You don't need to be more than you already are."
He could still smell her, mild lavender and old books. The rustle of laundry. The sun through cracked windows.
And if he jumped—
If he ended it here—
Would he remember any of it?
Would Reya's face fade?
Would his mother's voice vanish?
Would there even be an "after" to carry those memories?
His breathing quickened.
He gripped his sleeves and pressed a trembling foot closer to the edge, curling his toes over stone.
A gust nearly knocked him forward.
His heart lurched. His body flinched.
The cliff waited.
One motion.
That was all it would take.
Aki closed his eyes.
And all he saw was Reya's blood on the stone.
Her wide, shocked eyes.
The shadow looming.
How he stood frozen.
His fault.
His creation.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered. "I didn't mean to—I didn't know…"
He hunched forward, clutching his stomach as if guilt stabbed inside.
"I didn't ask for this…"
The words spilled like a prayer. A final confession.
"I was just… drawing. I wanted to make stories. Not this… not her…"
He looked down. The rocks blurred beneath his tears.
The wind screamed louder. The world shivered.
But he didn't move.
He didn't jump.
Because despite everything—despair, guilt, the wish to disappear—he was terrified.
Terrified of what came next.
What if there was nothing?
What if death wasn't peace but emptiness?
A void where Reya's laughter couldn't reach him.
Where his mother's voice was gone.
He dropped to his knees.
Fingers dug into cold stone.
Shaking.
Breathing.
Sobbing.
Still alive.
Still human.
Still Aki.
The God who couldn't save the only people he loved.
But something moved in the distance.
Aki didn't hear it at first. The wind was loud and his mind foggy—choked by grief.
But there it was again. A shift in the air.
Leaves crunching. A slow, careful step.
He didn't lift his head.
Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks. A hallucination. Wouldn't be the first today.
But the sound came closer.
Boots—metal-tipped, pressing into soil.
He froze, breathing sharp, heart fluttering like a trapped bird. His head turned slightly, slow.
He wasn't alone.
A figure stood several paces behind him.
He couldn't see the face—vision blurry, thoughts scattered—but the silhouette stood tall, unmoving, like some knight from an old story.
A long cloak trailed behind them, dark and wind-tossed, edged with silver and violet. Faint armor glinted beneath the cloth, worn from travel. A blade hung at their side, covered with strange marks pulsing faintly, like they were alive. At their chest, a pendant glowed dull violet, flickering as if holding back some power.
Aki blinked slowly.
No fear. No relief.
Only confusion.
His throat burned. His body sagged further on the stone, utterly spent.
The figure said something—a language Aki didn't know. Soft, steady, tense—like someone trying not to scare a wounded animal.
He didn't answer.
Couldn't.
Too tired.
Still crying.
Still breathing.
Still not dead.
The stranger stepped closer.
Their boots stopped just short of him.
A gloved hand reached out, hesitated, then rested gently on his shoulder.
Aki flinched.
The touch was real. Warm. Grounded.
He turned his head slightly, eyes half-closed, and looked up.
For a moment, his breath caught.
Long pale hair—almost white but touched with gold—moved like silk in the wind. Crimson eyes met his, sharp but softened by something he couldn't name. Pity? Curiosity? Alarm?
The pendant pulsed again, stronger this time—as if his grief had awakened something inside it.
Aki opened his mouth but no words came.
The figure crouched beside him, speaking again. Quieter now. Calmer. The words meant nothing to Aki, but the tone felt human. Kind. Concerned.
Still, he couldn't respond.
The numbness was too deep.
He just sat there, letting them speak, letting the hand stay.
It didn't matter who they were.
A dream. A hallucination. A character he had drawn.
He didn't know anymore.
He closed his eyes.
And this time, for the first time since Reya died…
He let someone stay.
Chapter 3 END