Micafer's vision returned in blinks. The blur sharpened into gold and silver flowers encircling him like a resting noble.
A casket.
He groaned.
"Typical. No room, no ceremony—just dumped in a gilded box. Do those two have any taste?"
Sweat beaded on his skin. Heat swelled beneath him, smothering.
He pushed upward. Resistance—sand. Trapped. His memory was still reassembling itself.
But one thought cut through.
My other rewards.
Eyes shut, he dived inward—past thought, into heart, into essence.
Suddenly, he stood in a void. No sky. No ground. Just stars. Infinity.
"…This is my core?" he whispered, voice echoing.
Below him, a temple floated—ornate, Gothic, eerily serene. Like a church pulled from a dream.
He drifted toward it.
The doors parted without a sound. Inside, four pillars stood alone. Shadows stretched from them—twisting, alive.
They moved.
A figure formed: humanoid, made of shifting darkness. It knelt.
"Welcome, my lord," it said, voice hollow. "You honor this temple."
Micafer approached with caution. "Who are you?"
"I am Black. Guardian of this temple. Protector of your core."
He glanced around. "Then what is this void?"
Black drifted through a wall. "Come."
Micafer followed.
Beyond the illusion lay a vast chamber. At its heart: an altar cradling a swirling orb—half dark, half light. His core.
"This is as far as we go," Black said. "Approach further, and it may react. This void is shaped by your soul. Your abilities lie dormant within."
"So this is all me," Micafer murmured, awed.
He faced the orb and said aloud, "Stats."
A smoky screen bloomed. White script formed.
[STATS]
Name: Micafer
Divine Name: Shadow God
Divine Name Description:
A title granted to a mortal beyond alignment. Grants potential to ascend to godhood.
"A god?" he muttered. "Me?"
He continued reading.
Core Type: Veil Core
Core Strength: 7.0
A perfect balance. Neither Light nor Dark. An anomaly.
"So my power comes from balance… Not piety. Not sin. Just… me."
Divine Ranking: Veil King
Ranks: Wanderer Knight, Veil King, Archshadow, Veil God
He exhaled slowly. "I could… become a god."
Divine Presence: 2000 / 10000
Your spiritual capacity, tied to your rank.
"Only a fifth unlocked," he noted. "I'm just getting started."
Divine Aspect: Shadow Cells
You are one with all shadows. You may become any shadow. Shadows obey you.
His brows rose.
"I am shadow…"
Black nodded. "You've awakened every shadow on Earth. They respond to you now. You are no longer just a man."
Back in the physical world…
Air thinned. His lungs screamed. Time was running out.
Eyes closed, he reached—felt shadows above him. He wasn't underground, but in a garden. A gravestone cast a long shadow.
He seized it—and became it.
He rose from the stone, shadow reshaping into flesh. Air surged into his chest. Night's chill kissed his skin.
He smiled.
"I'm alive."
Then he paused.
Whose body is this?
He turned to the grave.
Gorge Christ.
Micafer bowed his head. "Rest well, friend."
The nearby mansion gleamed—but stirred no envy in him.
He glanced once at the casket and its treasures.
"I've never been one to covet."
A massive white wall loomed far off, stretching to the sky's edge. A shield against Hell itself, he thought, amused.
By a still pond, he caught his reflection.
Gray hair. Sharp eyes. Regal face. No signs of death.
"Five foot nine," he noted. "Still dodging the short gene."
He looked deeper into his own eyes.
"…Everything's changed."
A flicker caught in the reflection—a flame.
His head snapped up.
A fiery mass screamed down from the heavens, trailing a blazing tail. Not a star. A weapon.
"What the hell is that?"
He squared his shoulders.
"Guess higher realms come with higher problems."
And with a grin:
"Let's see what this realm's really about."