The boy lay unconscious on cold stone.
Rain fell steadily from the darkened sky, each drop whispering against the ruined ground. Water pooled around broken rocks and cracked earth, yet not a single drop touched the boy’s face. The rain bent away from him, as if the world itself hesitated—uncertain whether it was allowed to acknowledge his existence.
Lightning flashed in the distance.
For a brief moment, his pale form was illuminated.
Silver-white hair.
Unnaturally pale skin.
A body far too thin to belong to a soldier… yet far too calm to belong to a dying man.
The villagers who had found him stood at a distance, clutching lanterns and charms, fear etched deep into their faces.
“No tracks,” one whispered.
“No blood trail,” another added.
“He wasn’t here before the storm.”
They all stared at the boy.
No one knew his name.
No one knew where he came from.
No one knew why he was still alive.
The only thing they agreed upon was the same terrifying conclusion.
“He just… appeared.”
? A Mind That Refused Rest
Inside his head, pain roared.
It wasn’t ordinary pain. It didn’t stab or burn—it crushed. A deep, splitting pressure surged behind his eyes, like something vast and ancient was trying to force its way through a fragile human mind.
His body twitched against the stone.
His silver-white hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, not rain. His lips parted as shallow breaths escaped his chest.
His eyes remained closed.
Red eyes.
But his mind was awake.
And screaming.
? Where the World Ends
Darkness cracked open.
The boy stood somewhere that was not the world.
There was no wind. No temperature. No sound.
The sky above was pitch-black, torn apart by slow-moving streams of dim, colorless light—as if reality itself had been wounded. Beneath his feet stretched an endless surface of polished stone, smooth and cold, reflecting nothing.
He felt no body.
No weight.
Only awareness.
And then—
He felt presence.
? The One Who Bowed
Someone was there.
The boy turned.
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And froze.
God was kneeling.
Not standing above him.
Not watching from the heavens.
But kneeling.
Massive chains wrapped around God’s arms, neck, chest—each one thicker than mountains, glowing faintly with carved words that burned into the boy’s mind the moment he saw them.
BELIEF.
FEAR.
WORSHIP.
OBEDIENCE.
Each chain pulsed slowly, like a living thing.
God’s head was lowered.
Not in judgment.
In submission.
“You are awake again…” God said.
His voice was distant. Weak. Strained.
The boy staggered, clutching his head as the pain intensified.
“Who…” he whispered, voice echoing unnaturally through the void.
“Who are you?”
God lifted His head.
And the boy understood something that made his heart seize.
God was afraid.
? A Truth the Mind Rejects
Fear trembled behind divine eyes.
“You are not ready,” God said quickly, almost desperately.
“You must not remember yet.”
“Remember what?” the boy demanded, his voice shaking.
The chains rattled.
The void darkened.
God took a step back.
And the pain exploded.
? Reality Shatters
The boy screamed.
He collapsed, gripping his skull as agony ripped through him, sharp enough to tear thought itself apart.
“STOP—!”
The world broke like glass.
? The Rain-Touched World
His body jerked violently.
He gasped for air, lungs burning, eyes snapping open—
Red.
For a single, terrifying moment, his eyes glowed crimson, reflecting something ancient and bottomless.
Then the light vanished.
The villagers stumbled backward in terror.
“Did you see that?”
“That wasn’t human!”
“Gods above… what is he?”
The boy groaned softly.
His hand rose weakly to his head.
“It hurts…” he murmured, half-conscious.
“Why does it hurt every time I dream?”
No one answered.
? Fragments That Refuse Silence
Even awake, the visions continued.
Flashes tore through his mind.
A throne cracking beneath impossible pressure.
Chains tightening around something that refused to break.
A voice screaming in fury—
Kneel!
Another voice answered, calm and absolute—
I already did.
His breathing hitched.
He didn’t understand.
But he felt it.
That place… that throne… that God—
They were real.
Those weren’t dreams.
They were memories.
? A Name Without Meaning
The villagers eventually approached, cautiously.
A woman knelt beside him, keeping her distance.
“Can you tell us your name?” she asked gently.
The boy opened his eyes slightly.
Confusion clouded his gaze.
“I… don’t know.”
The words came easily.
Too easily.
No past rose to meet them. No identity followed.
Only emptiness.
No origin.
No history.
No name.
Only pain.
And a strange, terrifying certainty—
That somewhere beyond the sky…
God feared him.
? The Pain Returns
The ache returned suddenly—heavier than before.
Not in his body.
In his existence.
His breath became uneven. His fingers curled against the stone as if trying to anchor himself to reality.
The ground beneath him trembled.
And then—
The world vanished again.
? The Throne Beyond Creation
He was no longer lying down.
He was sitting.
A throne rose beneath him—vast, ancient, blackened by time yet unbroken. Cracks ran across its surface, glowing faintly with power too old to name.
It floated in an endless void filled with dying stars, shattered worlds, and collapsing realities.
Chains bound his body.
Not forged by hands.
Forged by laws.
Symbols older than language burned across them, each chain heavy enough to bend space itself.
One chain alone could tear a planet apart.
Yet they held him.
And still—
He sat calmly.
As if this was where he belonged.
? Those Who Fear Him
To his right stood God.
No halo.
No light.
Only clenched fists and trembling rage.
To his left loomed a Demon Lord.
Wings torn. Horns cracked. Power leaking like smoke from a wounded beast.
Their eyes were identical.
Fear.
Hatred.
Both aimed at the one seated on the throne.
At him.
At—
“VICKY—!”
The void erupted.
Millions of voices screamed his name.
Gods.
Demons.
Things without form or flesh.
“VICKY—!”
“VICKY—!”
“VICKY—!”
Stars shattered from the sound alone.
Vicky lifted his head.
His eyes opened.
Cold.
Unimpressed.
? The Truth Spoken Softly
God screamed first.
“YOU SHOULD NOT EXIST!”
The Demon roared next.
“YOU ARE THE END OF ALL ORDER!”
The chains tightened.
Reality screamed.
Vicky spoke.
Softly.
“…If you’re both afraid,”
“then you already know.”
Silence.
God stepped back.
So did the Demon.
“He remembers fragments…” God whispered.
“If he remembers everything,” the Demon hissed,
“there will be nothing left.”
Vicky looked at the chains.
Then smiled.
Small.
Dangerous.
“Then keep me chained,” he said calmly.
“Because if I stand…”
The throne pulsed.
The void darkened.
“…you’ll kneel again.”
? The World Rejects Him
The vision shattered violently.
Vicky screamed.
Blood ran from the corner of his eye.
The ground beneath his body cracked, spreading outward like shattered glass.
The villagers ran in panic.
“The earth is breaking!”
“He’s burning up!”
Vicky gasped for air, tears mixing with blood.
“…Why,” he whispered, voice breaking,
“does everyone fear me…”
“…when I don’t even know who I am?”
Far above the clouds—
A chain tightened.
And God prayed.
