Chapter 5 - Chapter 1.5: Imprisoned god I

𝟏.𝟓: Imprisoned god I

Cassie's perspective

𝐈 was certain I'd been running—at full speed, no less—for at least half an hour… assuming time even existed here.

Absurd. All of it. Like something pulled straight from the pages of a fantasy novel.

Back when I was alive, the longest anyone had ever sprinted at top velocity was 9.58 seconds—and that record was still owned by the human rocket himself, Usain Bolt.

Ordinarily, I would be obsessing over the science behind my current superhuman pace, desperate to analyze the physics behind it like the nerd I was.

Alas, my survival took precedence—and the creature hot on my heels made me damn sure of that.

Oh, stopping wasn't an option. Not even for a second. My trembling legs screamed in protest, but they kept moving, churning beneath me like pistons.

Each breath felt like it was being clawed out of my chest, shallow and ragged.

I didn't dare look back, even though the weight of curiosity and dread gnawed at the corners of my resolve.

I'd seen it only once—just a flicker in my peripheral vision before I bolted like hell itself had opened up behind me. Which, judging by this hellhound-looking monstrosity, it might actually have.

That brief glimpse had told me all I needed to know: if it caught me, I was done for.

And I had just gotten here. I wasn't about to roll over and let myself get isekai'd twice in less than a day!

Blinking back hot, frustrated tears, I choked on a scream and screamed at the empty air—or rather, the entity I knew was lurking.

Hey, you! Are you seriously just gonna stand there and watch me get mauled by this death hound reject?! F☆cking help me already! I'm dying here—again!

Then the universe said, Bet. Because the next second, I tripped.

A jagged rock caught my foot, and I flew forward, crashing to the ground with a gut-churning thud.

If it hadn't been for the thick grass cushioning my fall, I probably would've cracked something.

Still, pain flared instantly—sharp, biting, unforgiving. My arms and legs screamed in agony where they'd slammed into the earth, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.

Wincing, I scrambled to my elbows, heart hammering against my ribs, and looked back.

That's when I saw it in full. The thing chasing me. I paled like a ghost seeing its own death certificate.

Because whatever nightmare had crawled out of the deepest, ugliest trench of hell—it was now staring me down with eyes that glowed like molten coal and a mouth split into too many jagged teeth to count.

It towered over me—body seemingly stitched together from nightmares. Its limbs were gangly but powerful, cloaked in matted black fur that shimmered unnaturally under the fuchsia sky.

Its mouth—if you could call that gaping freak show of teeth a mouth—unhinged into a grotesque grin that promised nothing but agony.

I scrambled backward, dragging my body through the grass, heedless of the way it burned and scraped against my skin.

God, no. God, please. I begged.

The thing let out a guttural snarl, a sound that cracked the air like thunder, and I felt every hair on my body stand on end. It stalked closer, one step at a time, savoring my panic.

I was seconds away from meeting the ugliest end possible when something just snapped inside me.

Call it adrenaline. Call it denial. Call it the sheer rage of a woman who refused to die a second time because some cosmic horror wanted a chew toy.

GET AWAY FROM ME! I screamed, raw and furious.

As if on cue, the atmosphere in the fever dream garden warped.

It was subtle at first—like the world paused mid-breath. The wind stilled. The monster froze. Even the colors in the garden dimmed just a little.

Then, a blinding flash, gold and white, abrupt and divine, split the sky open like lightning.

I remained frozen as a figure, draped in what looked like a long, flowing cloak stitched from moonlight and mist, appeared between me and the creature in the blink of an eye.

His presence was like gravity; it pulled everything toward him and forced the rest of the world to hush.

I couldn't see his face clearly, but I could tell—he wasn't human. Not even close.

In one smooth movement, he raised his hand, and a wave of pressure rippled outward. Instantly, the creature let out an ear-piercing howl—wounded, angry, defiant—and then disintegrated into particles of obsidian dust, whisked away by the now-returning breeze.

I blinked, stunned, and breathless.

What… just happened?

The figure tilted his head slightly, as though he was savoring my confusion. Then, in one fluid motion, he turned to face me fully.

I was already struggling to breathe but at that moment, my body completely forgot how to use my lungs.

He was beautiful—no, that word wasn't even close. He was picturesque.

His skin was smooth and rich, the color of polished mahogany kissed by starlight—radiating a depth and warmth that made the garden around him pale in comparison.

Silver hair, long and flowing past his waist, shimmered like a million galaxies woven into threads. It shifted with the faintest movement, catching the strange light of the realm in gleaming strands that almost looked alive.

But his eyes—especially, his eyes.

Vibrant crimson irises locked onto mine, mesmerizing in their intensity. And at their core, like miniature suns, burned radiant gold, swirling faintly with central heterochromia that made it feel as though I was staring into the eye of creation itself.

He towered over me, standing at least seven feet tall, his build carved like an ancient warrior god. Every line of his skin was marked with intricate designs and celestial patterns that pulsed faintly with energy, as if they were alive.

And in his right hand, he held a tall, obsidian-black staff crowned with a floating crystal that seemed to hum with restrained power.

His robe flowed like mist and silk, draped in the deep, shifting hues of midnight and storm-clouds, adorned with ornaments that looked like fragments of nebulae and shattered constellations.

I could only stare. My legs refused to move and my breath was caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

The stranger arched a brow, a small smile dancing on his lips.

⪻ You're louder than I expected. ⪼

My mouth opened, but no words came out. I probably looked like a fish gasping for air.

⪻ Not that I mind, ⪼ he added, stepping closer. ⪻ You've got some fight in you. Good. ⪼

I finally found my voice, though it cracked like a broken record. Who and what are you?

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching.

⪻ Your guide. ⪼

My eyebrows furrowed. That's far from a satisfactory answer. And guide to what exactly?

He offered a hand, eyes gleaming.

⪻ To what comes next. ⪼

to be continued. . .