I just… felt good.
For once, I wasn't fighting to survive, or planning ten steps ahead. No beasts trying to eat my face off. No betrayal. No shrieking alarms in my mind. Just peace.
A rare and dangerous thing, peace.
The ruins I'd found weren't exactly the grand "Legacy of the Ancient Divine Emperor" type I'd half-expected. Nah. It was just a small, decayed structure buried under a thousand years of disappointment. The roof had caved in. Moss and water dripped from above. Whatever history this place had? Flushed away.
No final boss.
No stone guardian yelling "You are not worthy!"
No magical inheritance waiting to bless the next Chosen One.
What nonsense.
I sighed, pulled out the golden ring from my finger, and took out the weird token I'd kept since Aldric's death. The one he'd hidden in his own ring—probably his last trump card. It shimmered faintly, like it still held some dormant power. If this were a cultivation novel, the moment I held it up, some ancient spirit should've descended to call me "Disciple."
Nope. Just silence.
I wandered around a bit, hoping some chest would materialize. Even a skeleton with a note would've been something.
Eventually, I gave up and walked outside. The breeze was stiff and carried the scent of wet bark. I cast Black Wind with a flick of my hand, letting the spell swirl and sweep over the ruins. Moss peeled away, debris lifted, and… something caught my eye.
A circular depression in the ground.
Perfectly round. Too precise for nature. Hidden under the moss.
Cliché as hell.
Still, I knelt down and placed the token into the center.
Nothing.
I sat for a while. Waited. Blinked. Stared.
Still nothing.
I sighed, yanked the token back, and walked off.
[Day 2600]
Back at the shelter, life was... absurdly easy.
I didn't have to lift a finger anymore. People had designated roles—some cooked, others cleaned, a few just stood around swinging fans like I was some medieval sultan. They called me God. Honestly, I didn't correct them.
I liked the food. I liked the worship. I liked the breeze blowing over my face as I reclined on a carved wooden throne with padding made of pine needles.
Still… I missed Earth. My phone. Wifi. Video games. Even cold soda.
And then, right in the middle of this divine daydream, Philip burst in like a hurricane.
"Sir!" he gasped. "We've found traces of the deer!"
My eyes narrowed.
That thing?
"Where?"
"Northern forest. Fresh trails. Some of the scouts saw it."
I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed my travel bag, then thought better of it and stored it in the golden ring. When Philip saw the bag vanish into thin air, he froze. His face contorted between awe and existential breakdown.
"You… you truly are a god," he whispered, then dropped to his knees.
I didn't respond. I had no time.
I ran. Through the shelter. Into the woods. Across puddles and rain-slick roots. The sky was still frozen—sun fixed, moon unmoving. Only the clouds drifted.
And then… I saw it.
The deer.
The same graceful, radiant beast I'd seen before, when Aldric died. Only now, it looked older. Weaker. Its coat had dulled slightly, and its antlers glowed faintly under the eternal twilight.
I raised my hand, ready to kill it.
And it spoke.
"Wait, human."
I froze.
Did… it just talk?
The voice was calm. A low, melodic tone that felt more like a breeze than a sound.
This wasn't normal. Beasts here didn't speak. They roared, they growled—but speech?
Now that I thought about it, the deer had always been odd. It had always stayed away from the survivors, yet nothing strong ever came near the shelter. Maybe it was protecting them. Maybe its presence scared off other beasts.
But why?
I asked what it was.
It replied with a question of its own: "What are you?"
I didn't answer.
I didn't know.
When I asked if it came from this world, it replied without hesitation:
"No."
We went back and forth for a while. I grew impatient. I asked bluntly—what was it doing in this patchwork world?
The deer lowered its head. Its eyes were stormy gray, old and reflective. It spoke, slowly:
"This world… was once a small realm. A simple forest fragment. When I arrived, it began to change. It began to patch itself together using ruins of shattered worlds. I do not know why. Perhaps it is alive. Perhaps not. But it feeds on fragments. It grows through ruin."
My brows furrowed.
That explained the mismatched biomes. The stitched-together forests. The unnatural geography.
I asked how it knew all of this.
It didn't answer.
The deer's voice softened as it stared at me.
"when I stepped into this forest… and everything changed. This plane broke from the main world. It drifted through space-time like a splinter in the void. It devoured what it touched. Bits of broken realms. Pieces of dying worlds. All consumed. All assimilated."
It fell silent.
The forest around us was quiet. Not just calm—silent. No birds. No rustling. Just wind and the echo of that story.
I wanted to ask more.
Its abilities. Its purpose.
But it didn't elaborate. It only watched.
Eventually, I asked, "Is there cultivation in your world?"
The deer tilted its head like I'd asked if grass had feelings.
I explained—energy, cultivation, stages, realms. Qi.
The deer frowned.
"There were strong humans… but none like you. None this strong."
I asked the obvious: "If I went to your world right now, as I am… how powerful would I be?"
It answered without hesitation.
"Invincible."
No flex. No brag. Just a calm, indifferent truth.
I chuckled. I'd expected as much.
Then, with hesitation, I asked one last thing.
"Do you know… Aldric?"
The deer's eyes flickered. Not a blink. Not surprise. Just a glint. Like I'd triggered something.
I described Aldric—his face, voice, even the scar on his shoulder.
The deer said nothing.
Liar.
I stepped forward, eyes hard. "You've met him, haven't you?"
It didn't answer. Just stared.
I didn't press further.
I just nodded. "Thanks," I said quietly, and walked away.
The sky was still like a painting—sun unmoving, clouds drifting in loops, moon locked in its phase. The air had a weight to it, like the world was holding its breath.
The forest shifted behind me—pine trees slowly giving way to jungle, then temperate forest again. A patchwork world, stitched together from the corpses of other worlds. The ground pulsed subtly beneath my feet. Like something below was still breathing.
Above, black birds circled.
In the far distance, ruins flickered in and out of view, like mirages on the edge of space.
This wasn't a real world. It was a collection. A glue trap for the shattered remnants of reality.
And I?