The transition was not a sound, but a silence so profound it felt like a scream. One moment, the cacophony of his world. The next, the crushing quiet of another.
Leo opened his eyes to a sky with two moons.
He was standing in the courtyard of a crumbling castle, its stones bleached white like bone. Before him, instead of a pool of water, was a seething, silent wound in the world. It was a tear in the fabric of reality, about the size of a well, through which swirled the ghosts of dead galaxies and light from a time before time.
[Welcome, Player, to the Divine Partitioning.]
The text in his vision was stark, white, and final.
Name: Leo Title
Title: God- Keeper
God-Keeper Land: 1 km²
Aetherium: 10/10 Next Summon: Available
God-Keeper? The title sent a chill down his spine. The global chat—a frantic, scrolling pane of light to his side—was filled with titles like 'Orc-Wrangler,' 'Elf-Friend,' 'Goblin-Chief.'
KingDave7: LMAO MY TITLE IS 'GOBLIN DEALER' I GIVE UP
SarahTheStrong:'Scale-Lord' hell yeah! My drake is awesome!
User_4412387:how do i change my title??? mine is 'Mud-Spinner' :(
Leo's title felt heavier. It felt true.
His eyes were drawn back to the cosmic wound—the Titan's Cradle. The interface above it was terrifyingly simple.
[Summon Divinity: Cost 10 Aetherium] [Warning: Divinities are willful. Divinities are proud. Tread carefully, Keeper.]
His mouth was dry. This wasn't a summoning pool. It was a prison door. And he had the key.
He had 10 Aetherium. The resource wouldn't regenerate for 48 hours. This was his one shot. He could wait, try to gather information, see what others did.
A bestial roar echoed from the dark tree line beyond the broken walls, followed by a sound like tearing metal. He didn't have time to wait.
He took a deep breath, thought of every story of gods and wishes he'd ever read, and made his first prayer. "Please. Something that can build. Something that can protect."
He selected "Summon."
The 10 Aetherium vanished. The Titan's Cradle flared.
There was no light. There was anti-light. A wave of absolute blackness shot upward, sucking the sound from the world. The two moons' light didn't just dim; it was eaten. The temperature plummeted. Frost spiderwebbed across the stones at his feet.
Then, a pressure. A weight on reality so immense that Leo felt his knees buckle. He wasn't being forced down; the world itself was bending under the burden of what was appearing.
In the center of the courtyard, a figure coalesced from shadow and ancient stone.
It was a man, eight feet tall, his skin the color and texture of granite, hair like flowing basalt. He wore broken chains on his wrists that dripped molten rock. His eyes were not eyes, but deep, empty pits into which starlight fell and died.
He did not look at Leo. He looked at the crumbling castle wall. A sound came from him, not a voice, but the deep, seismic groan of continental plates shifting.
"A poor foundation."
The words were not heard; they were felt, vibrating in Leo's teeth and bones.
A notification, stark and red, appeared.
[Divinity Summoned: Kaelen, The Forsaken Stone-Shaper. (Lesser Titan of Earth)] [Divine Attention: 5%] [Aetherium Regeneration: 47:59:59 until next summon.]
The god—the Titan—turned his head. The empty pits regarded Leo. The pressure intensified. Leo couldn't breathe. He wasn't being choked; the air itself had become too heavy to inhale.
"You are the new Warden." The voice was a landslide. "This prison is beneath me. Why have you pulled me from my ruminations?"
This was not a follower. This was a force of nature. And Leo had to give it a command.
He swallowed, his throat clicking dryly. He remembered the stories. Titans respected strength, but not brute force. Strength of will. Strength of purpose.
He forced his back straight, meeting the empty gaze. "This isn't a prison," Leo said, his voice a whisper against the Titan's rumble, but it carried. "It's a... a testament. Or it was. Look at it now. Broken."
Kaelen's stony face shifted. Something like a flicker of interest. Or immense, world-ending boredom.
"A testament to failure."
"To what was lost," Leo countered, his heart hammering. "I can't restore it. But you could."
He pointed a trembling hand at the largest breach in the wall. "Make it strong again. Not just a wall. Make it a... a monument to the strength of stone that endures."
He was babbling. He was weaving a story from the myths he loved, hoping the Titan would find the narrative appealing.
Kaelen was silent for an eternity. The Divine Attention meter ticked up to 6%.
"A monument," the Titan mused. The concept seemed to intrigue him. "Not a defense. A statement."
He took a single step toward the wall. He placed a hand on a fallen block. The stone sang. It flowed like liquid, reshaping, merging with other blocks, rising higher and higher. The wall didn't just repair itself; it transformed. It became a masterwork of impossible architecture, a sweeping, gravity-defying bastion of fused rock that gleamed with embedded minerals.
It was done in a heartbeat.
Kaelen looked back at Leo. "The statement is made. Do not bother me with trivialities again, Warden."
The Titan walked to the farthest corner of the courtyard, sat down with his back against the new, glorious wall, and became utterly still. A statue once more.
[Quest Complete: Initial Fortifications.] [Reward: 100 Faith, Blueprint: Basic Barracks.]
Faith? He couldn't use Faith. He was the God-Keeper.
Leo stood alone, his body thrumming with adrenaline and terror. He had done it. He had survived the first minute.
Then he looked at the global chat. It was going insane.
User_9823471: DID ANYONE ELSE JUST FEEL THAT?? LIKE AN EARTHQUAKE IN MY SOUL??
User_4387122:My goblins are all hiding and whining! What was that?!
CartographerLynn:Sensor spike detected in Sector 7-G! Off the charts! What the hell is over there?!
Leo minimized the chat, his blood running cold. His eyes went to the Divine Attention: 6% meter.
They couldn't see his god. But they could feel it.
And if they could feel one... what would happen when he summoned another?