He whispered softly, his gaze fixed on the mysterious book, a puzzled frown shadowing his face.
"True… Godhood?"
Confusion mixed with intrigue as he stared at the unconventional title and the sparse details etched onto the book's ancient cover. Curiosity getting the better of him, the young man opened the cryptic tome to its first page, hoping to uncover some hint of its meaning.
Inside lay an aged yet well-preserved sheet of yellowed parchment. Black ink formed a short paragraph in a delicate, elegant font that seemed almost alive.
"For the pitiful newborn God, this guide shall aid thee in thy journey toward Godhood. To shine brilliantly in this divine task, please sign this page with your name."
"What kind of guidebook starts with a signature page? And that speech—it sounds like something out of the Middle Ages. Maybe I judged it too soon. It's definitely older-fashioned than it looks."
Disappointed by the archaic tone and lack of information, he attempted to turn the page. But the moment he tried, an unseen force resisted him. It was as though the pages were fused together. He pressed harder, straining against the invisible resistance, yet it felt like trying to tear apart a block of solid steel with bare hands.
Frustration bubbled up. He was about to close the book in defeat when something caught his eye. The first page looked… different.
He froze mid-motion, then quickly reopened it, his breath catching.
"How is this possible!? Well… considering my situation, maybe it isn't impossible—but still, seeing the page change before my eyes is unbelievable."
The writing had changed. The ornate script remained, but the words themselves were new.
"Newborn God, if you seek to access the knowledge found within this guide, you must first sign your name."
He blinked, stunned. The page had rewritten itself—and seemingly in response to his thoughts. He had complained aloud about the old-fashioned speech, and now the language was modernized.
It changed because of what I said… then it's responding to me. And this message—it's telling me that if I want to read more, I need to sign my name.
Outwardly calm, but inwardly thrumming with excitement, he wondered: Could this truly be a magical book? Like the ones in fantasy novels? Can it understand me? Talk to me?
Driven by curiosity, he decided to test it.
"I'd love to sign," he said aloud, "but I don't have any writing tools with me."
He turned his pockets inside out to prove his point. As if answering him, the black ink on the page began to ripple and twist, letters melting into new shapes until they formed a fresh sentence.
"Worry not. To sign your name, you need only speak it aloud. Now, please—sign."
His eyes widened in disbelief.
It… it can really communicate! I don't know if it can explain my situation, but I should probably do as it asks first.
Clutching the book carefully, he spoke with newfound resolve.
"I'll sign my name. But after that, I hope you'll answer some questions I have."
Taking a steadying breath, he declared clearly,
"My name is…"
At once, the book trembled in his hands. A brilliant silver light flared across the lower half of the page, illuminating the surrounding void.
Beneath that radiant glow, elegant letters began etching themselves into the parchment, shimmering in silver as though written by unseen divine hands. Slowly, beautifully, a single name emerged—one that would soon echo across the universe:
"Endri."