Chapter 1: The Forgotten souls
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Life is fickle.
For as long as I could remember, society had always ensured my livelihood—but at what cost?
It had bound me in chains, restraining my impulses, burying my dreams beneath duty, and forced me onto a path I never truly chose.
I told myself that it was security. Stability. The way things were meant to be for me.
But in truth, society in itself was like a cage, and I had never even tried to truly break free from it.
And now, I never would.
A dull ache settled in my chest—a phantom pain, though my body was long gone. I had no lungs to breathe, no heart to beat, yet I still felt the crushing weight of regret pressing down on me, suffocating me.
How could I not?
I could remember the moment it happened.
The sharp snap of... My destiny?
Yes just like that, from one moment into the other, everything was gone in an instant.
The slowly settling cold.
The weightlessness.
The sickening realization that there were no second chances.
I hadn't wanted to die.
Not so soon.
I had spent my life waiting. Waiting for the right moment, an right opportunity. To start at the right time to chase what I truly wanted. I kept telling myself, One day… One day, I'll break free. One day, I'll take control of my life.
But life doesn't wait.
It drags you along like in a relentless current, shaping your destiny while you hesitate at the shore.
And then, one day, it was over.
I didn't even know how I died.
That was the most cruel part.
No clarity and final moment of understanding. Just a void where my last breath should have been.
And so, "I" drifted in a void.
A lost soul in an endless abyss, surrounded by countless others.
We were all bodiless, weightless. Our identities unraveling into the void, while fearing that we might disappear at any moment. Yet, something remained. Something that clung to us tighter than life ever had.
Regret.
It filled the space between us, in thick and suffocating manner, as an unseen force that kept us tethered even as everything else slipped away.
Some souls radiated sorrow—a deep, gnawing grief that clawed at them even in death. Others pulsed with anger, refusing to accept their fate. A few were empty, hollowed out by time, their emotions worn down until nothing remained.
And then, there were those like me—trapped in the endless loop of if onlys.
If only I had fought harder.
If only I had pursued my dreams.
What if I had just... stayed with her?
If only I had taken risks.
Why did I not live my life according to my will? Was I scared of something? People judgingly looking at me? Maybe I kept telling myself that I would fight tomorrow.
But death does not listen to regret.
It does not grant second chances.
And yet, something stirred.
A presence. A force beyond my comprehension.
And for the first time since I fell into the abyss, I felt something other than regret.
Something that should not have been possible.
Hope.
The void trembled.
It was not a sound. Not even a movement, in the way the living would perceive it. It was more like something deeper—something that resonated through the fabric of our formless existence.
Then, like a slow inhale of the universe itself, the darkness split apart.
A tear that was vast and yawning, carved itself into the abyss. It did not rage or howl. It did not consume. It simply was there.
And we— the forgotten souls, stripped of our bodies and pasts—were drawn toward it.
It was not a choice. There was no struggle or resistance. We drifted, weightless, for we had even tried to break free.
Then, clarity returned.
For the first time since death, I felt again. The weightlessness remained, but I was aware. The emptiness that had numbed my mind cracked apart, and I knew that I was not alone.
The other souls stirred as well.
A shift rippled through them, through us. We felt:
Fear. Dread. Confusion.
Something was watching us.
Then, a voice resounded.
Not loud, yet it resonated through existence itself, reverberating in a way that went beyond mere sound.
It was law.
It was power.
"Forgotten souls, hear our call."
From the rift, five figures emerged.
They were not human.
Their presence alone altered the void around them and it seemed that the abyss itself bent to their will. I felt it deep within whatever remained of me—a certainty, undeniable and absolute.
They were gods.
The first among them stepped forward, his presence as solid as the earth itself.
"I am Korr, the God of Strength."
His voice rumbled, steady and unshaken—like rolling thunder before a storm. Even without a body, I felt the weight of it press against me.
His form was massive. It was towering beyond human proportions, draped in obsidian armor that bore the scars of ancient battles. His arms were crossed and his stance unyielding, as his expression carved from stone itself.
"The path ahead is not kind," Korr declared. "It will demand more of you than you have ever given. If you wish to reclaim life, you must show resolve—not just of body, but of will."
A soft chuckle echoed through the void.
Flowing silver fabric shimmered as a woman stepped forward, her golden eyes glinting with knowing amusement. She moved with effortless grace, her every motion precise, controlled—deliberate.
"Ever the idealist, Korr," she mused, her voice smooth as silk. Delicate fingers traced unseen patterns in the air, and threads of shimmering energy wove themselves between them.
"I am Eris, Goddess of Knowledge. Wisdom shapes action. Without it, strength is nothing more than an uncontrolled storm, thrashing without direction."
"And yet, wisdom without the will to act is merely empty thought," Korr countered without hesitation.
Eris smiled, tilting her head. "Perhaps. But one who charges ahead without thinking may not live long enough to regret it."
A third figure emerged, but he made no grand entrance.
Unlike Korr, he was lean. Unlike Eris, he carried no grandeur. His dark cloak was frayed at the edges, and his black hair was unkempt, as if the wind had never left it alone. His wood-brown eyes, sharp and watchful, moved slowly over the gathered souls—measuring and calculating.
He did not move without reason, nor did he speak unnecessarily.
"Ralos, the God of Instinct," Eris introduced him, as if she knew he wouldn't do so himself.
He remained silent, watching. When he finally spoke, his voice was like the wind before a storm—low, firm, and certain.
"Instinct separates the living from the dead."
Nothing more. Nothing less.
A soft sigh followed and the sound carrying a weight of patience, like that of time itself flowing like a river.
From the endless dark, a hooded figure glided forward, wrapped in a flowing blue cloak. Unlike the others, his presence was subdued. But no less profound by any means. His very existence felt like an unseen current, gentle yet inevitable.
"And yet, Ralos, instinct without balance leads only to ruin."
His voice was calm, measured—heavy with meaning.
He turned toward us, and the abyss itself seemed to pause.
"I am Noa, the god of balance."
"Your trial is simple. Survive and overcome. Only those who prove themselves as worthy shall move forward."
Then, the final figure stepped forward.
Small.
Childlike.
Delicate golden curls framed an ageless face with their pale skin flawless—untouched by time. Yet, among all of them, their presence was the most unsettling.
Their eyes were like…
Twin abysses that swallowed all light.
They held no warmth. No cruelty. Just inevitability.
Lir, the god of the End
They did not need to introduce themselves.
Their presence alone spoke of what they were—what they represented.
Lir's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it reached every corner of the void.
"Endings are not cruel, nor are they kind. They simply are."
They tilted their head slightly, watching the gathered souls with quiet curiosity—like a child observing an insect struggling in the dirt.
"Some of you will earn a second chance."
Their lips curved into something that was not quite a smile.
"And those who fail…"
The void itself seemed to tighten.
"Come with me."
Then, a silence.
A weight.
The gods turned their gazes downward—toward a world we could not see.
Noa spoke first.
"He has been born."
Eris' fingers tightened around her glowing threads. Korr's jaw clenched. Even Ralos' unreadable expression darkened.
"The Demon King."
A being of pure destruction. One that should not exist, yet now did. A force that, if left unchecked, would consume the world itself and slay its path to godhood.
Korr exhaled sharply. "We cannot interfere. We cannot strike him down."
"We cannot," Noa agreed. "But they can."
A pulse of energy washed over us.
"You will not return for yourselves."
Lir's abyssal eyes bore into us, their eerie curiosity unwavering.
"You will return for him."
Eris's voice, usually amused, was solemn. "He is weak now, but he will not remain so."
"You will grow with him," Ralos murmured. "And you will either rise… or fall."
"And if you fail…" Lir whispered.
They did not need to finish the sentence.
Then—
Five portals ignited.
I felt a pull.
And then, the world fractured.