He was falling.
How long had he been falling? Hours? Days? Centuries? Time itself felt like a cruel joke, stretched thin and broken by the weight of his wounds. The heavens around him blurred into streaks of light and ash. Wind tore at his body as though trying to rip him apart piece by piece.
And still… he could see him.
That traitor. That cursed figure. A shadow that lingered in his vision like a scar on the sky. A burned star, distant yet seared into his mind.
Farther. Just let me fall farther. I don't want to see him again.
His throat, dry and ragged, still forced out a whisper. "Creation… don't worry." The word cracked like old iron, heavy with blood. "I'll take your revenge. I'll kill him. Without mercy."
The oath tasted bitter, like rust on his tongue. He tried to move, to reach out, but his limbs carried the weight of mountains. He could feel fragments of his power bleeding away, scattered into the void like shards of glass. Not gone. Not sealed. Just… broken.
The abyss reached up to claim him, and for a moment he thought perhaps this would be the end.
Then a voice called.
"Hey, old man, you alright?"
It pierced through the haze, bright and boyish, far too alive. He blinked, eyes adjusting, and saw the blurry outline of a boy leaning over him.
"Hey," the boy said again, louder this time. "Old man, you can't sleep naked in a public garden."
Naked? His eyes shifted downward. The realization struck, and for the first time in centuries, he felt a flush of humiliation. Naked. Truly naked.
Before he could form an answer, more humans appeared. Men in matching uniforms, their voices strict and commanding. They called themselves police. Their words were strange, their intentions obvious. They meant to take him. Bind him.
He did not wait to hear more.
Even in his fractured state, he was still power itself. The air trembled as he rose, the ground cracking beneath his bare feet. And then he ran, with speed far beyond their eyes. To them, he was nothing but a blur swallowed by shadow.
He did not stop until silence returned. Until the chase was lost in the distance. Until he stood alone, the pulse of human cities surrounding him.
Leaning against a cold wall, his breath came heavy. Not from exhaustion, for he had endured worse, but from the weight of realization.
So this is what remains of the world we forged…
Humans lived in steel towers and crowded streets, under strange lights that imitated stars. They thrived, yet were bound by rules. Structures. Systems. If he was to survive here, he too would need to learn these rules.
He glanced to his side. A man walked past in simple black garments. A plain shirt, dark trousers, polished shoes. Nothing divine, nothing radiant. But it was enough. He studied, and then shaped the fabric of his own clothing to match. When he stepped out from the shadows, he looked almost human.
He wandered the streets, eyes drinking in the foreign world. Humans glanced at him, some staring, but none dared approach. To them, he was just another stranger. A traveler, perhaps. Yet the air around him still carried weight, and people instinctively kept their distance.
Soon, his wandering brought him to a wide building, a school.
Children poured out of its gates, laughing, shouting, chasing one another. Mortals so fragile, yet their joy carried something alien to him. He watched in silence, until…
It struck him.
A presence. A pulse that froze him where he stood.
Creation.
It was faint, fractured, but unmistakable. His heart, which had long since turned cold, thundered once more. He surged forward, eyes searching wildly.
Then impact. A boy collided with him. For a brief moment their eyes met. The boy muttered, "Sorry," and hurried away.
But the god stood frozen.
That boy. He carried it. The essence of Creation.
"So… you didn't vanish entirely," he whispered. His voice was low, but it shook. "You left something behind. A fragment. A successor."
The realization rooted itself deep. If you entrusted him with your will, Creation, then I will honor your choice. I will follow him. And together, we will take revenge on Fate.
He turned, ready to chase. But the boy was already gone, swallowed by the crowd.
No matter. Finding him would not be difficult. After all, even fractured, he was still the Ruler of Space.
As he walked, he listened to the humans call to one another. Names. Every mortal had one. Names to mark identity, history, existence. Unlike the divine, who had no need for such things.
But here… to dwell among mortals, he too would need one.
He thought for a long moment. And then, for the first time in an age, he spoke it aloud.
"…Phanes Lucian."
The sound lingered in the air, sharp and absolute.
"Yes. That will do."
A faint smile curved his lips as he stepped into the human crowd.
"Nice to meet you, humans."
–S. Yusuf