Asema stared at the translucent blue message hovering before his eyes, its presence so unexpected he nearly dropped the herb he just picked up.
[System Notice:
Congratulations!
All requirements for ultimate quest 'God Ascension' have been met.]
The world around him seemingly froze as the message continued to unfold.
[Quest: God Ascension
You have been chosen to become a god. Ony one god can exist in Ostea.
God is a being of supreme power with authority over fundamental aspects of reality. Gods shape worlds, establish systems, and influence the fate of countless beings.
Requirement:
Survive for 10 days. Upon completion, you will ascend beyond mortal limitations.
Do you accept?
Yes/No]
Asema's breath stopped. After years of struggle, countless battles and quiet acts of kindness that no one witnessed, the System was offering him... godhood?
"Ultimate quest? What…" he whispered, accepting the quest without thinking.
[Quest accepted.
God Ascension initiated.
10-day countdown begins now.]
The sky above darkened momentarily as both moons—Idura and Uagan—seemed to pulse with light despite being barely visible in the daytime sky.
A wave of mana so dense it was visible to the naked eye as blue ripples expanded outward from Asema's position.
Leagues away, in the royal palace of Atrua, Arch-Mage Lorelei's tea cup shattered in her hand as a message appeared.
[Special Quest: The Making of God
Asema Tenebre of the Western Vale seeks to become a god.
God is a being of supreme power with authority over fundamental aspects of reality. Gods shape worlds, establish systems, and influence the fate of countless beings.
Will you aid him in his quest or stand against him?
By accepting this quest you wish to aid Asema.
By declining you must do everything in your power to stop him. To stop his quest, Asema must be eliminated.
Note: Only one god can exist in Ostea.
Do you accept?
Yes/No]
"Oh Asema, what did you get yourself into?" Lorelei whispered.
In the Demon Lands, far north in the Northern Wastes, Dragoth the Undying opened his ancient eyes for the first time in centuries as the same message reached him.
"Yes!" Dragoth exclaimed. "Finally, something interesting!"
Across the continent, in hidden valleys and atop mountains, underwater and high in the sky, the most powerful beings of Ostea received the same quest.
Asema felt a chill run down his spine. Something changed in the world—he could feel countless gazes suddenly turning toward him.
"Well," he murmured, carefully placing the herbs in his satchel and checking the edge of his blade, "seems I've gotten myself into quite the situation."
The first distant rumble of thunder echoed across the clear sky. Ten days to survive.
Ten days to become god.
'Why ten days?' Asema thought.
His thoughts would be soon answered…
* * *
Seven days passed.
Asema pressed his back against a damp cave wall, breath coming in ragged gasps.
Blood trickled down his left arm where a poisoned arrow grazed him hours earlier.
Luckilly, he had a complete immunity to all negative effects granted by his ability 'Absolute Resistance'.
His emergency haven—an abandoned cave system he'd discovered and fortified years ago—had been his last refuge.
Now it was becoming his tomb.
"Three more days," he whispered to the darkness. "Just need to hold out three more days."
Above, the earth trembled as another barrage of spells hammered his outermost magical barriers.
The sound of cracking stone echoed through the tunnels. His third-to-last defense line failing.
Not a single ally had come to help.
Former friends, companions who shared meals at his table, people whose children he helped—all turned against him, eyes gleaming with the promise of power. Everyone feared the possibility of Asema's success.
Being of supreme power? Why not me? Those were the thoughts of everyone present.
The betrayal cut Asema deeper than any blade.
A crystal on the wall shattered and his third remaining defense, a barrier designed to absorb magical attacks, was broken.
'I'd like to use my resurrection skill,' Asema thought. 'But I fear what would happen. Would the quest pause and then resume after my resurrection? Would it be for nought?'
He didn't know what would happen and he didn't dare to find out.
Instead, Asema reached into his pocket, fingers closing around a large, midnight-blue gem that pulsed with inner light.
Mana crystal of the highest quality. Largest he has ever seen. He kept it hidden for decades, never thinking he'd actually use it.
'World-Step', a skill he'd created as a last resort. A last skill he would ever use in Ostea.
[World-Step
For emergencies only, It will take you to a new world, but where—even System cannot say.]
The ground began to glow red-hot as someone's magma spell melted through his final barrier.
"I'll be back," Asema murmured, thinking of all those who showed their real colors. "I'll find a way back. And take my revenge."
He tapped into the energy stored in his mana crystal. Surge of mana flowed into his body.
[Unique Skill: World-Step activated]
The air around him fractured like broken glass. Through the cracks, he glimpsed unfamiliar stars and strange land.
As the cave ceiling collapsed and dozens of mages, warriors and assassins poured in, Asema's body shimmered and vanished—just as a barrage of spells converged on the spot where he'd stood.
As the effects of spells slowly faded, a moment of silence fell over the assembled powerhouses.
Then, floating in the air where Asema had been, a translucent message appeared:
[System Announcement:
Quest "God Ascension" has failed.
Asema Tenebre is no longer present in this world.
All related quests are now canceled.]
No one dared to move. Their enemy was eliminated but everyone knew what would follow…
* * *
Asema slowly opened his eyes to find himself laying on cold, damp earth beneath an unfamiliar sky.
The mana crystal he held in his hand turned to dust.
A large yellow sun hung low on the horizon. His body ached as though he was thrown from the peak of the Eternal Mountains.
He accessed his mana and discovered something that left him frozen in horror.
Instead of having his mana regenerate, it was instead being slowly depleted.
He then focused on mana in his surroundings.
Where once an ocean of power had been at his call, he felt only the barest trickle, like the last drops from a nearly empty waterskin.
"No," he whispered, extending his senses outward. "This can't be..."
But it was. The world around him—Eswua, as he would later learn the name of this new world—was almost entirely devoid of mana.
The ambient energy that had sustained his every breath in Ostea was nearly absent here. What little existed seemed to be actively drawing upon his own reserves, like parched soil absorbing raindrops.
Eventually, he was forced to heal his wounds before succumbing to his injuries, depleting his shrinking reserves of mana even more.
Over the next several days, Asema explored his new prison with growing desperation.
He found settlements of people who looked much like those of his homeland, yet they possessed no magical powers whatsoever.
Each passing hour drained more of his mana. He could feel it seeping from him into the world around him, like blood from a wound that wouldn't close.
On the ninth day, sitting atop a lonely hill beneath an alien sun, Asema made his decision.
"I may not return home in this lifetime," he murmured, "but through my bloodline I shall make it back to Ostea."
He drew forth the last of his magic diagrams, focusing on "Mark of Phoenix"—a resurrection skill meant to bring its bearer back from death.
In its standard form, it would activate upon his demise, but without sufficient mana in the surroundings, it would simply fail to initiate.
'I will also have to make sure the resurrection happens in Ostea,' he thought to himself.
Asema's fingers traced complex patterns in the air, reworking the foundations of the skill without any help from System.
Sweat beaded on his brow as he altered its structure—not only to resurrect back in Ostea, but also to preserve and transfer.
"Not one life, but many," he whispered. "Not one chance, but generations of them."
The new Mark of Phoenix would pass through his bloodline, accumulating the sparse mana of this world over decades, centuries if necessary. It would grow stronger with each generation until, someday, one of his descendants would have enough power to be resurected in Ostea.
As the last of his mana flowed into the completed mark, Asema smiled grimly.
The skill etched itself into his very essence, visible on his bare chest in the form of a blue phoenix egg, waiting to be passed to his children and their children after them.
The phoenix waitnig to be hatched and stretch its wings.
"A long game," he said to the empty air. "But I've always been patient."
***
A/N:
1 pace = 1 step = approx. 0.75 m,
1 league = 5000 paces = approx. 3.75 km