The world shattered with the fall of a god.
Baphometh, the Fallen Constellation of Corrupted Salvation, dissolved into particles of light that scattered across the ruined sky like dying embers. The massive horned figure crumbled, its body fragmenting into pieces that evaporated before they could touch the scorched earth below. The air itself seemed to shudder, releasing a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, as if reality was exhaling after holding its breath for far too long.
Raye Silver stood amidst the devastation, his legs trembling beneath him. His sword clattered to the ground, the blade chipped and dulled from battles he could no longer count. His body swayed, and then his knees buckled. He fell forward, catching himself on his hands, palms scraping against broken stone and ash.
'It's over.'
The thought should have brought relief. Joy, even. But there was nothing. Just a hollow space where his heart used to beat with purpose.
Around him, the remnants of what had once been humanity's final stronghold lay in ruins. Twisted metal jutted from craters. Buildings had been reduced to skeletal frameworks. The sky above churned with colors that had no name, reality still struggling to stabilize after the constellation's death. And in the distance, just beyond the broken walls, lay the body of the man who had actually defeated Baphometh.
Jiro Tanaka. The true hero. The one who had dealt the final blow.
Raye had only survived because he hadn't been the one to face the god directly. He'd been there, yes, supporting from the edges, doing what little his pathetic skills allowed. And he'd watched Jiro fall, watched the constellation's death throes tear through his friend's body like tissue paper.
But Jiro had smiled. Even as his life bled out onto the cracked earth, even as his eyes dimmed, he'd smiled and said, "It's done, Raye. We did it. Everyone can rest now. The world... the world can finally be peaceful."
Peaceful.
'What peace?' Raye thought, his fingers curling into fists against the ground. 'What world?'
There was no one left to save. The scenarios had taken everyone. His mother, gone in the third scenario. His younger sister, lost in the seventh. His friends, his neighbors, the kind old woman who used to sell flowers on the corner near his apartment, all of them swallowed by the endless trials that the constellations had forced upon humanity.
Ninety-nine scenarios. Ninety-nine gods to kill. Ninety-nine chances for humanity to prove itself worthy of survival.
And in the end, only Raye remained. An empty shell in an empty world.
[The Constellation of Endless Night congratulates you on your victory!]
The message appeared before his eyes, glowing letters suspended in his vision. Raye stared at it, feeling nothing.
[The Constellation Who Swallows Light praises your determination!]
[The Constellation of Hidden Moons applauds your resilience!]
[The Constellation of Undying Flames celebrates the end of the trials!]
More messages flooded in, one after another, filling his vision with their glowing text. The constellations, those divine beings who had watched humanity's struggle from their celestial thrones, who had made bets and wagers on which humans would survive each scenario, who had treated their suffering like entertainment.
Congratulations. Praise. Celebration.
Raye's hands began to shake. Not from exhaustion. Not from relief.
From rage.
[The Constellation Who Burns Forever gifts you 50,000 coins!]
[The Constellation of Frozen Eternity offers you a token of their appreciation!]
[The Constellation Who Preserves All sends you an artifact: Eternal Ice Shard]
Gifts. Rewards. As if their trinkets could replace the people he'd lost. As if their coins could buy back his sister's laugh, or his mother's warmth, or Jiro's unwavering courage.
'They're celebrating,' Raye thought, his vision blurring. 'They're actually celebrating.'
[The Constellation of Silent Frost commends your survival!]
[The Constellation Who Shatters Warmth recognizes your achievement!]
[The Constellation of Raging Storms honors your—]
"Shut up," Raye whispered.
The messages continued.
[The Constellation Who Commands Thunder acknowledges your—]
"Shut up."
[The Constellation of Drowning Seas praises—]
"SHUT UP!"
His scream tore from his throat, raw and ragged. He slammed his fist into the ground, feeling bones crack, not caring. Blood welled from his knuckles, mixing with the ash and dust.
'What was it all for?' The question burned through his mind like acid. 'What did any of it matter?'
He'd been weak from the start. His talent had been graded as E-rank, the lowest tier. His skills were garbage, barely useful even in the early scenarios. He'd survived not through strength or cleverness, but through sheer, pathetic luck. Hiding while others fought. Running while others stood their ground. Clinging to life while everyone else gave theirs for a future that no longer existed.
He was a coward. A weakling. A survivor who didn't deserve to survive.
Tears streamed down his face, cutting tracks through the grime and blood. His shoulders shook with sobs he couldn't contain.
"I want to die," he said to the empty world. "Just let me die."
But the world offered no response. Only more messages from the constellations, their words hollow and meaningless.
[The Constellation Who Breaks the Sky offers condolences for your losses]
'Condolences,' Raye thought bitterly. 'How generous.'
[The Constellation of Celestial Order acknowledges your grief]
[The Constellation Who Weighs Souls understands your pain]
Understanding. Acknowledgment. Empty words from beings who had never truly suffered, who watched from their divine seats as mortals bled and died for their amusement.
Raye wanted to scream again. He wanted to curse them all, to rage against their indifference, but he had nothing left. He was empty. A husk. A shell of a person waiting for the wind to blow him away.
And then, a new message appeared.
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity shares in your sorrow]
Raye blinked, his tears momentarily stopping. This message felt... different. The others had been distant, formal, the kind of platitudes one offered out of obligation. But this one carried weight. Substance. As if the constellation behind it actually meant what it said.
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity has taken interest in you]
Another message. Raye stared at it, confusion cutting through his despair.
'Interest? In me?'
That made no sense. He was nobody. Nothing. The weakest survivor of humanity's extinction. What could possibly be interesting about that?
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity sees potential in your spirit]
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity wishes to reveal their identity to you]
Raye's breath caught. Constellations rarely revealed themselves. They observed, they influenced, they made contracts with promising candidates, but direct revelation was something else entirely. It meant attention. True attention.
The air before him began to shimmer, and new text materialized, larger than before, glowing with golden light.
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity reveals his Identity]
[Promethor, The Architect]
The name hit Raye like a physical blow. His eyes widened, his mouth falling open.
'Promethor.'
He knew that name. Every survivor of the scenarios knew that name, though few understood its true significance. Promethor had been dismissed by most as a weak constellation, one of the lesser divine beings who held little power or influence. He'd never sponsored anyone, never offered contracts, never participated in the grand spectacle that the other gods seemed to enjoy.
But Raye knew better.
During his journey through the scenarios, he'd found fragments of truth hidden in ancient texts and abandoned temples. The scenarios themselves, those ninety-nine trials that had nearly destroyed humanity, hadn't been created to torment mortals. They'd been designed as a defense mechanism. A desperate attempt to give humanity the strength to resist the true threat: the Fallen Constellations, divine beings who had become corrupted and sought to devour the mortal realm.
And Promethor, The Architect, had been the one to create them.
Not out of cruelty. Out of necessity.
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity wishes to help you]
Raye's laugh came out harsh and broken. "Help me?" he said aloud, his voice cracking. "Help me? What could you possibly do to help me?"
The messages paused, as if the constellation was considering his words.
Raye's laugh grew sharper, edged with hysteria. "Can you bring them back? Can you reverse time? Make it so none of this ever happened? Can you give me back my family? My friends? Can you erase every death, every sacrifice, every moment of suffering?"
His voice rose to a shout. "Can you turn back time itself and let us start over?!"
Silence. The messages had stopped. Even the other constellations seemed to have gone quiet, as if they were watching, waiting to see what would happen.
Raye slumped, the brief surge of emotion draining away. "That's what I thought," he muttered. "There's nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do. It's over. We lost. I lost."
He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for his body to finally give out, for his heart to stop, for the blessed numbness of death to claim him.
And then, a voice spoke.
Not in his mind. Not as text before his eyes. But as sound, real and present and overwhelming.
"WHAT IF I COULD?"
The words crashed over Raye like thunder, each syllable resonating with divine power. His eyes flew open, and he gasped as pain lanced through his skull. His ears rang, and he felt something warm trickling down the sides of his face. Blood. His eardrums had ruptured from the sheer force of the constellation's voice.
But he'd heard it. He'd heard the question.
"What... what did you say?" Raye whispered, his hands shaking.
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity offers you a contract]
A shimmer of light appeared before him, coalescing into a physical form. It was a scroll, suspended in the air, wrapped in golden radiance. Text appeared beside it.
[Ascension Contract: Promethor, The Architect, offers to bind himself to you as your patron constellation]
Raye stared at it, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. An Ascension Contract. These were rare, precious things. When a constellation saw potential in a mortal, they could offer a contract, binding themselves together in a relationship of mutual benefit. The constellation would provide resources, guidance, and power, while the mortal would serve as their avatar in the physical realm.
But Raye... Raye had never received a contract offer. Not once in all his time struggling through the scenarios. His talent was too poor, his skills too weak. He wasn't worth investing in.
So why now? Why after everything was already over?
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "A contract? For me?" He shook his head. "You're wasting your time. I'm trash. The lowest of the low. My talent is E-rank. My skills are garbage. I survived by hiding and running while better people died. What could you possibly gain from someone like me?"
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity states: I want you, Raye Silver]
The directness of the statement struck him silent. Not 'someone like you.' Not 'a survivor of the scenarios.' Just him. Specifically him.
"Why?" Raye demanded. "Why me? What makes me special? I'm nothing. I'm—"
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity states: You are the one who endured]
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity states: You are the one who survived when all others fell]
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity states: You are the one who carries the weight of humanity's extinction]
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity states: And you are the one who refuses to accept this ending]
Raye's throat tightened. His hands clenched into fists.
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity asks: Will you sign the contract?]
"And if I do?" Raye asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What happens then? What's the catch? What do you want from me?"
The scroll pulsed with light, and more text appeared.
[Terms of the Ascension Contract:
- Promethor, The Architect, shall serve as sole patron to Raye Silver
- Raye Silver shall serve as sole avatar to Promethor, The Architect
- Promethor shall provide all permitted resources and support to his avatar
- Raye Silver shall act in accordance with the interests of his patron
- Both parties are bound until death or mutual dissolution
- No other contracts may be formed while this contract remains active]
Standard terms. Nothing unusual. And yet...
"You still haven't told me what you want," Raye said. "What do you gain from this?"
The air shimmered again, and once more, that overwhelming voice spoke.
"A SECOND CHANCE."
Raye's heart stopped. "What?"
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity offers you the opportunity to start again]
"That's... that's impossible. You can't turn back time. Even gods can't—"
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity states: I am The Architect]
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity states: I created the scenarios]
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity states: I can unmake what I have made]
Raye's mind reeled. Start again. Go back. Have another chance.
Save them. Save everyone.
His hand moved before his conscious mind caught up. He bit down on his thumb, hard enough to draw blood, and pressed it against the floating contract. The golden light flared, brilliant and blinding, and Raye felt something shift in the fabric of reality itself.
The scroll split in two. One half shot forward, phasing through his chest and settling somewhere deep inside him, warm and pulsing like a second heart. The other half vanished, presumably returning to Promethor's divine realm.
[Contract established]
[You are now bound to The Constellation Who Forges Divinity: Promethor, The Architect]
Raye let out a shaky breath. It was done. No taking it back now.
A new shimmer of light appeared before him, and this time, it formed into a sphere. Small, no larger than his fist, but radiating immense power. It was a core, he realized. A divine core.
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity gifts you: Core of Rebirth]
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity commands: Swallow it]
Raye didn't hesitate. He reached out, his fingers closing around the sphere. It was warm, almost uncomfortably so, but not painful. He brought it to his lips and swallowed.
The effect was immediate.
Pain exploded through his body, white-hot and all-consuming. He screamed, his back arching, every muscle seizing at once. It felt like his cells were being torn apart and rebuilt, over and over, each iteration more agonizing than the last.
[Recalibrating physical structure...]
[The Architect is working...]
[Rebuilding foundation...]
[Optimizing mana channels...]
[Restructuring talent pathways...]
The messages flickered across his vision, but Raye could barely see them through the haze of pain. His skin burned. His bones felt like they were melting. His blood boiled in his veins.
And then, just when he thought he might actually die from the agony, something changed.
The pain didn't stop, but it shifted. Instead of pure suffering, he felt... growth. Expansion. Like his body was a too-small container, and something vast was forcing its way inside, stretching him, changing him, remaking him into something that could hold it.
Minutes passed. Or hours. Time lost meaning in the crucible of transformation.
And then, with a sound like reality itself cracking, it was done.
BOOM.
The shockwave rippled outward from Raye's body, flattening the rubble around him in a perfect circle. He gasped, drawing in a breath that felt like his first, and his eyes snapped open.
Everything was different.
The world was sharper, clearer. He could see individual particles of dust floating in the air. He could feel the movement of energy beneath the earth. His body felt light, powerful, like he could leap over mountains or punch through steel.
[Recalibration complete]
[Congratulations, Host!]
[You have unlocked: The Architect's System]
Raye blinked. "System?"
A new interface materialized before him, far more complex than the simple message boxes he'd seen before. Status windows, skill trees, inventory screens, all of it arranged in elegant gold and silver.
But before he could examine it, the flood of messages resumed.
[The Constellation of Endless Night is alarmed by this development!]
[The Constellation Who Swallows Light demands an explanation!]
[The Constellation of Undying Flames protests this favoritism!]
[The Constellation of Frozen Eternity questions the legality of this action!]
[The Constellation Who Burns Forever accuses The Architect of cheating!]
[The Constellation of Silent Frost threatens to report this to the Divine Council!]
Dozens of messages, all from different constellations, all expressing outrage or concern or jealousy. The other gods had noticed what Promethor had done, and they were not happy about it.
[The Constellation Who Commands Thunder demands The Architect explain himself!]
[The Constellation of Drowning Seas insists this violates divine law!]
[The Constellation Who Breaks the Sky calls for sanctions!]
Despite everything, despite the pain still echoing through his body, despite the weight of all he'd lost, Raye felt a smile tugging at his lips. The other constellations were panicking. Scrambling. Afraid of what Promethor had just done.
'Good,' he thought. 'Let them be afraid.'
[The Constellation of Celestial Order demands The Architect respond to these accusations!]
[The Constellation Who Weighs Souls insists on—]
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity is ignoring all messages]
That one made Raye actually laugh. A short, sharp bark of sound that startled even him. Promethor wasn't even bothering to acknowledge them. Just going about his business while the other gods threw their tantrums.
[The Constellation of Divine Law threatens legal action!]
[The Constellation Who Guards Heaven warns of consequences!]
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity is still ignoring all messages]
Raye's laugh grew stronger, more genuine. It felt good to laugh. When was the last time he'd laughed? He couldn't even remember.
The messages continued their frantic cascade, but Raye stopped paying attention to them. His focus shifted to the new system interface, exploring its menus, understanding what he'd been given.
And it was... incredible.
Skills he'd never had access to. Abilities that had been locked behind his poor talent rating. Pathways for growth that had been impossible before. All of it now available, thanks to the transformation Promethor had wrought.
'I can actually do this,' he realized. 'I can actually save them.'
A final message appeared, different from the others. Quiet. Personal.
[The Constellation Who Forges Divinity offers final words]
Raye's attention snapped to it immediately.
[Message from Promethor, The Architect: Don't die]
Simple. Direct. Almost casual.
And then, one more.
[Message from Promethor, The Architect: Create the best ending]
The best ending.
Not just a good ending. Not just survival. The best possible outcome.
Save everyone. Change everything. Make it so the scenarios didn't have to end in extinction.
Raye felt something he hadn't felt in what seemed like lifetimes. Something bright and burning and impossible to contain.
Hope.
"I will," he whispered to the empty world. "I swear it. I'll save them all."
Light began to gather around him, golden and brilliant. The world started to blur, reality bending and twisting as time itself prepared to unravel.
The last thing Raye saw before the light consumed him was the broken ruins of humanity's final stand, the place where everything had ended.
'This time,' he thought as consciousness slipped away. 'This time will be different.'
---
When his eyes opened again, the first thing he noticed was the sound.
Not silence. Not the empty wind whistling through ruins. But noise. Human noise. The chatter of conversations, the rumble of movement, the hum of machinery.
Raye's eyes flew open, and he found himself staring at the interior of a train car. People surrounded him, dozens of them, all alive and whole and completely unaware of the doom that was coming. An elderly man read a newspaper. A young woman scrolled through her phone. A businessman dozed in his seat.
Alive. They were all alive.
Raye's hands trembled as he looked down at himself. His body was different too. Younger. Healthier. The scars and calluses from years of fighting were gone, replaced by smooth, unmarked skin.
He raised his left hand, and there, on his wrist, was a watch. The numbers glowed softly in the dimming evening light filtering through the train windows.
18:00.
Six o'clock. Exactly.
Raye knew this moment. He remembered it. This was the last normal day. The day before the first scenario began. The day he'd been heading home from a part-time job, tired and bored and completely unaware that tomorrow, the world would end.
But not this time.
This time, he would be ready.
This time, he would save them all.
The train rumbled on through the city, carrying Raye Silver toward a future only he could see.