The sky stretched endlessly above the divine palace — a twilight canvas where suns were born and died in silence. The air shimmered faintly, filled with the weight of timeless power.
On a marble throne carved from starlight sat Albryst, the Primordial God — ruler of the forgotten cosmos, the being who had witnessed creation bloom and wither countless times.
He leaned back, one arm resting lazily against the armrest. His golden eyes drifted across the empty expanse of his realm. It was beautiful, yes — but unbearably quiet.
For centuries, silence had been his only companion.
A faint ripple disturbed the still air as his servant materialized beside him — a being of light and mist, bowing low before speaking softly.
"My lord, will you remain like this forever?"
Albryst's expression barely shifted. "Forever," he repeated, the word heavy on his tongue. "I used to think that word meant peace. But now, it feels like a curse."
The servant hesitated. "If you are lonely, my lord… there are countless goddesses who desire your presence. You are the strongest among them. Surely—"
Albryst gave a faint, humorless smile. "Yes, I know. Desire was never the problem. It's just… too late."
"Too late?"
"My lifespan is nearing its end," he said quietly. "I can feel the thread of my existence unraveling."
The servant's eyes widened. "You— you've lived for over a thousand years! Surely that cannot be true!"
Albryst stood. His tall figure cast a long shadow across the glowing floor. "Time spares no one, not even gods. I am tired, Eriel."
"Then… what will you do, my lord?"
He turned toward the great gate at the edge of his domain, where the stars seemed to fold inward like a dying flame. "Something I never thought I would — end my story on my own terms."
The servant stepped forward, panic in his voice. "My lord, please—!"
Albryst raised a hand. "Thank you for serving me, Eriel. You have been loyal to the end. But this… is where I walk alone."
He walked away from his throne, his steps echoing softly across the vast hall. At the heart of the divine palace stood a sword — a flawless blade floating midair, radiating with ancient light.
Eternavia, the sword of gods.
Albryst reached out and grasped the hilt. For a moment, the universe seemed to hold its breath. He looked down at the blade, his reflection gleaming faintly across its surface.
"I never imagined it would end like this," he murmured. "But if rebirth exists beyond death… perhaps I'll finally know what it means to live."
He smiled faintly — tired, wistful, almost human — and drove the blade into his chest.
Light erupted, flooding the entire realm in silence.
And the god who had ruled eternity was no more.
Warmth. Darkness. A heartbeat.
Albryst's consciousness floated in a haze, weightless. There was no pain — only a strange rhythm echoing faintly around him. Then, sound. A woman's voice, gentle and trembling.
"He's beautiful… His name will be Park Hanwoo."
A thousand sensations rushed into him — air, sound, the cold sting of light. He gasped. The cry of a newborn echoed through the room.
Albryst — the Primordial God — had been reborn.
Years passed in a blur of motion and noise.
Albryst found himself trapped within a human shell — a boy growing up in a world of machines, screens, and voices. A world without mana, aura, or divinity.
At first, he tried to resist. To awaken his divine power. To summon light, command elements — anything.But nothing happened.
The world was truly powerless.
He learned through fragmented memories that the boy he now inhabited — Park Hanwoo — was nothing like the god he once was. Hanwoo was reckless, angry, and cruel. He shouted at his parents, bullied classmates, and carried the reputation of a delinquent no one wanted to be near.
Albryst, once worshipped by millions, was now despised by ordinary people.
The irony almost made him laugh.
Until one morning — the morning everything changed.
The sun leaked through the blinds, brushing against his face. Albryst groaned, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling. For a second, he wondered if he was dreaming — then the pain in his head reminded him that he was very much alive.
He sat up slowly, glancing around the small bedroom. Posters lined the walls, and piles of clothes lay scattered across the floor. It was messy — chaotic — a far cry from the divine halls he once ruled.
He looked into the mirror.
A boy stared back. Black hair slightly messy, warm brown eyes, sharp features that could almost be called handsome. His reflection smiled weakly.
"So this… is me now," Albryst muttered. His voice sounded strange — young, human, alive.
He ran a hand through his hair. "Well… at least I'm good-looking."
For the first time in eternity, a hint of amusement flickered across his face.
Then he felt it — the emptiness. No divine energy, no aura, no celestial pulse. Just a silent, ordinary heartbeat.
He sighed. "So this world truly has no power… no gods, no magic."
Still, a small smile curved his lips. "Then maybe… I can finally live as one of them."
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice outside the door.
"Hanwoo! Wake up, or you'll be late for school!"
He froze. The name felt distant yet familiar. "Ah— yes?"
The door opened, revealing a woman with kind eyes and a weary smile. Her hair was tied back, and her apron was dusted with flour.
"Honestly, what am I going to do with you?" she sighed, then blinked when she saw him sitting upright.
Albryst hesitated. "Good morning… mother."
The woman — Park Yurin — froze. "What… did you just say?"
He blinked innocently. "Good morning, mother."
For a second, she simply stared. Then she smiled, though confusion lingered behind her expression. "You must still be half-asleep. Hurry, get dressed. You'll be late."
When she left, Albryst sat still, staring at the closed door. Mother, he repeated silently. The word felt… warm.
Warmth — a feeling he hadn't known in a thousand years.
Suddenly, his vision blurred. Pain lanced through his head, sharp and cold. Images flashed behind his eyes —
A boy shouting at his mother.
A father flinching at the sound of his voice.
Students whispering behind his back.
A teacher sighing, defeated.
The flood of memories hit him like a storm. He gasped, gripping the edge of the bed.
When it ended, he sat there in silence, heart pounding.
"So this… is the life I've inherited," he murmured. "A boy hated by everyone. Even by himself."
He looked into the mirror again — the same handsome face, but with a history he couldn't erase. "Maybe… I was placed here for a reason."
A knock came at the door again.
"Hanwoo, hurry! Breakfast is getting cold!"
"I'm coming!" he called back.
He slipped into his school uniform. The fabric felt stiff, unfamiliar. As he looked at himself one last time, he thought, This face might be handsome, but what good is it without a heart to match?
When he stepped out, the scent of toast and coffee filled the air. His parents were sitting at the table — his father reading the newspaper, his mother setting down a plate.
They both froze when he said softly, "Good morning, Mom. Good morning, Dad."
Park Yurin blinked. "Good morning…?"Her husband lowered the newspaper slowly. "Did you just… greet us?"
Albryst nodded. "Yes. I… wanted to say thank you."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"Thank you?" his mother repeated, stunned.
"Yes." He smiled faintly. "For raising me. For not giving up on me… even when I was awful to you."
Both parents stared at him, disbelief and emotion fighting in their expressions. His mother's lips trembled. "Hanwoo… what's gotten into you?"
He looked down, his voice gentle but firm. "I think… I finally understand what love means."
For a moment, neither parent spoke. Then his mother's eyes filled with tears. She stepped forward and pulled him into a trembling embrace.
His father joined a second later, wrapping his arms around both of them.
Warmth spread through Albryst's chest — a warmth that felt deeper than divine fire. For the first time since his existence began, he truly felt alive.
"This," he thought, "is what I was missing all along."
His mother sniffed, smiling through her tears. "You've really changed, Hanwoo. Maybe… maybe this new school will be a new start for you."
He blinked. "New school?"
She nodded. "Yes. You were transferred because of… well, the trouble you caused at your old one."
Albryst sighed quietly. "I see. Then I'll make sure not to repeat the same mistakes."
His father chuckled softly. "That's all we could ever ask for."
When they finally let go, Albryst smiled — genuinely, for once.
"Thank you, Mother. Thank you, Father. I won't disappoint you."
They exchanged a glance, and his mother laughed weakly. "You're acting so strange today. But… I like it."
As they prepared to leave, Albryst stood by the doorway, watching the sunlight pour through the window. The city outside buzzed with life — cars rushing by, laughter in the distance, the scent of fresh bread from a nearby shop.
A world without magic.A world without gods.A world of fleeting warmth.
And for the first time in his endless existence, Albryst did not long for eternity.
He wanted only to live this fragile, beautiful life — as Park Hanwoo.
The morning light spilled through the open curtains, bathing the small living room in gold. A soft breeze drifted in from the garden, carrying the scent of damp grass and the faint sweetness of flowers. Hanwoo stood there for a moment, still adjusting to the strange sense of normalcy around him — the neat hallway, the ticking wall clock, and the faint sound of his mother humming from outside.
It was so different from the divine palace he used to rule over — marble halls echoing with silence and reverence, the endless horizon of the heavens at his feet. There, every sound was distant, every word heavy with meaning.Here… everything felt alive.
He was still lost in that quiet wonder when a familiar voice called out from the front door.
"Hanwoo! What are you doing standing there? Hurry, or you'll be late!"
He blinked, slightly startled, then hurried toward the voice. When he stepped outside, the first thing he saw stopped him completely.
A sleek silver car stood in the driveway — elegant, smooth, and shining under the morning sun. His mother, Park Yurin, was standing next to it with one hand on the open door, looking at him curiously.
Hanwoo stared.For a man who once soared across galaxies and split skies with a single swing of his sword, a simple automobile was… surprisingly intimidating.
"What is… that?" he asked before he could stop himself.
Yurin tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "What do you mean, what is that? It's our car, of course! Don't tell me you've forgotten? You crashed so many cars before that I had to buy a new one last year!"
She sighed dramatically, her tone halfway between irritation and affection. "Honestly, Hanwoo, you really don't remember anything, do you?"
Hanwoo froze. Crashed… cars?The old Hanwoo must have been a disaster in more ways than one.
Trying to play along, he scratched his head with a nervous laugh. "Right, right… the car. Of course."
Yurin gave him a look but decided not to question further. She opened the passenger door. "Get in. You're going to make me late for my meeting."
He climbed in carefully, fingers brushing the soft leather of the seat. The interior smelled faintly of lavender and new fabric. As the engine started with a low hum, he sank back and looked out the window, watching the quiet streets roll by.
The car's gentle vibration felt… soothing.So this is how mortals travel, he thought. Back then, I just flew wherever I wanted… but this—this feels calmer. Slower. Human.
It was strange — but he liked it.
As they drove through the neighborhood, Hanwoo found himself noticing small details — children walking to school with backpacks twice their size, an old man sweeping his porch, a stray cat sunbathing on a fence. It was peaceful. There was no divine aura, no endless war between gods, no balance of dimensions to uphold.
Just life.
He almost smiled.Maybe this world didn't need power. Maybe it was better that way.
Yurin glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "So, are you ready for your new school?" she asked.
Hanwoo turned to her. "Yes, I think so."
"You think so?" she echoed with a grin. "You'd better be! This school is full of smart students and—" she paused for effect, "—beautiful girls. So don't go getting distracted, alright?"
Her teasing tone caught him completely off guard.He blinked, heat rushing to his face. "I–I won't, Mother…"
Yurin chuckled softly, clearly enjoying his reaction. "Oh my, you sound disappointed. Don't tell me my son wants to find a girlfriend already?"
"I—no! That's not what I meant!" Hanwoo said quickly, waving his hands. "I was just… uh… surprised about the 'smart students' part."
His mother gave him a suspicious look. "Mm-hm. Right."
Hanwoo turned toward the window, hoping she wouldn't see his awkward expression. Inside, though, he was both flustered and… amused.No one had ever spoken to him this way before.As a god, every word directed at him was worship, reverence, or fear. No one dared to tease him. No one treated him as an equal.
This—this was new.Warm.Human.
Yurin continued, her voice gentle now. "You know, even if it's a new start, I believe you'll do well, Hanwoo. Don't worry too much."
He glanced at her, surprised again by how easily she could comfort him — as if she knew exactly what he needed to hear. For a being who had ruled countless realms, the kindness of one mortal woman felt… overwhelming.
"Thank you, Mother," he said quietly.
Her eyes softened at his tone. "You've changed a lot lately," she said. "For the better. It makes me happy."
He smiled faintly. "I guess I finally realized what matters."
They drove in comfortable silence for a while. The morning sunlight filtered through the trees lining the road, painting shifting patterns across the dashboard.
Then Yurin suddenly spoke again, casual as ever."Oh, right. There's something I've been meaning to tell you."
"Hm?" Hanwoo looked up.
"I'm going to adopt a child," she said.
Hanwoo blinked. "Adopt?"
"Mm-hm," she nodded, turning the wheel smoothly as they entered a wider road. "A little girl. About six years old."
He sat up straighter, eyes widening slightly. "A girl? You mean… I'll have a little sister?"
"Exactly," she said, smiling as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
Hanwoo didn't answer immediately. For a long moment, he just sat there, watching the morning light glimmer off the windshield. A little sister…The idea made something stir in his chest — an emotion he hadn't felt in ages.
In his past life, he'd been surrounded by celestial beings, gods, and spirits — but never family. Companionship was rare among immortals. Affection even rarer.The thought of having a sibling — someone who might look up to him, call him "oppa," cling to his sleeve — it felt… warm.
"I think I'd like that," he said softly. "Having a little sister."
Yurin smiled, her eyes crinkling. "I knew you'd say that. I already found a girl I want to adopt. She reminds me a lot of you, actually."
Hanwoo turned to her, amused. "Reminds you of me? How?"
"Oh, she's stubborn, loud, and a bit of a troublemaker," Yurin said, laughing. "But she has kind eyes. You'll understand when you see her. I'll bring her home after school today."
Hanwoo's chest tightened with quiet joy. He looked out the window again, a small smile playing on his lips. A sister, huh?Maybe this life really would be different.Maybe this was the warmth he'd been missing all along.
Before long, the car slowed, turning into a quiet street bordered by trees. Ahead stood a tall gate and a modern building beyond it — sleek and clean, filled with clusters of students in uniform. Laughter echoed faintly from the courtyard.
"Here we are," Yurin said, parking beside the gate. "Hanwoo High School."
Hanwoo looked at the campus, feeling a strange flutter in his chest. It wasn't fear — more like nervous excitement. The last time he'd faced a challenge, it had been a war between realms. Now… it was high school.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to his mother. "Thank you for driving me, Mother. I'll walk home after classes. The house isn't far, right?"
She nodded. "About fifteen minutes on foot. That should be fine." Her smile softened as she brushed a lock of hair from her face. "Just remember to be kind, alright? No more fighting, no more trouble."
He nodded earnestly. "I'll be good. I promise."
For a second, Yurin simply stared at him — the gentle, polite tone, the honest eyes. It was still hard for her to believe this was her son, the same boy who used to yell and slam doors.
"...You've really changed," she murmured.
Hanwoo smiled. "Maybe it's about time I did."
She leaned over and hugged him briefly. "Go on then. Make me proud."
He stepped out of the car, the breeze brushing through his hair. The sound of laughter, footsteps, and chatter filled the air — a chorus of everyday life. He waved as his mother drove away, watching the silver car disappear down the street.
For a moment, he stood there quietly at the school gate, his bag slung over one shoulder, the morning sun warming his face.
Then, softly, he said to himself—
"A new life… huh."
And for the first time in a thousand years, the god who once ruled the heavens smiled — not as a deity, not as a warrior, but as a boy named Park Hanwoo.