Ravens Smith squinted at the half-finished essay glowing on his laptop screen. The dorm's fluorescent light buzzed overhead, flickering in a way that set his teeth on edge. He rubbed his temples, muttering,
"Two thousand more words. Just two thousand....."
The cursor blinked back at him like a mocking heartbeat.
It was past midnight, and outside his window the neon sprawl of the foreign city burned bright. Students from the local university passed by laughing, chatting in a language Ravens still stumbled through despite two years of study. He'd come here from Africa chasing opportunity—scholarships, prestige, a chance to lift his family back home—but the dream hadn't matched reality.
Between odd jobs, the weight of tuition, and the casual isolation of being "different" in a place that prided itself on uniformity, every day felt like a grindstone. He'd learned to smile through it. To swallow the loneliness.
But tonight, his chest was tight. Rent was late. His boss had cut his café hours again. And this paper on comparative mythology was due at dawn.
He stretched, his spine cracking like old wood, when his laptop screen froze. Lines of text scrolled where his essay should have been—code, gibberish, error strings.
[System Update in Progress...]
[Initializing Global Transference Protocol.]
Ravens blinked, rubbed his eyes, and laughed nervously. "Hah. Must've finally fried the thing."
Then the world shattered.
A soundless roar tore through his skull. The ground quaked, not just his dorm floor—the entire earth. The city outside twisted, skyscrapers bending as if they were reflections in rippling water. The sky bled with golden cracks, each fracture revealing a vast expanse of stars and titanic silhouettes watching from beyond.
Students screamed in the halls. Glass shattered. Alarms blared. But the sound was swallowed by something greater: a booming voice that rolled across the planet.
"Mortals of Earth. By decree of the Origin Continent, you are chosen. Strive, ascend, and claim godhood—or perish."
Light engulfed everything.
When Ravens opened his eyes, he was no longer in his cramped dorm room. He stood barefoot in a colossal plaza paved with luminous stone. Around him, thousands—no, millions—of people from Earth blinked in terror and awe. The plaza stretched into infinity, flanked by towering statues of gods with eyes that seemed alive.
The radiant screen pulsed again, and the vast, mechanical voice echoed across the plaza.
[Welcome, Candidates. Your world has been selected for Integration into the Origin Continent.][All mortals are granted the chance to ascend—or to serve.]
Light flared in the sky. Symbols cascaded downward like golden rain, and when they struck the crowd, they didn't burn—they sank into the mind.
Ravens staggered as knowledge tore through his skull. Words, images, concepts not his own slammed into his consciousness: the Origin Continent, the Divine Core, Ascension Paths, Followers, Temples, Trials.
He clutched his head, groaning. All around him, people cried out, some vomiting, some collapsing to their knees.
They had transmigrated into the world where one had a chance to ascend to godhood. This world was called the Origin Continent/Divine Continent.
He saw a vast continent shaped like a lotus, its layers unfolding one after another. It was divided into; Outer Rim—Middle Lands—Core Domain—Forbidden Zones—
And beyond the continent, other realms stretched into infinity: the Underworld where the dead were bound, the Sky Realms where winged gods reigned, and the Outer Chaos, a storm that even gods feared.
The golden rain thickened, and the voice that had shaken Earth itself rose once more—resonant, inexorable, like the judgment of eternity. Every syllable pressed into bone and soul, leaving no room for doubt or denial.
"Hear the laws of Integration. Let all mortals know their place."
The crowd stilled. Even the sobbing and screams dwindled to silence.
"Children beneath the age of fifteen, and those whose years exceed fifty, shall be spared the weight of trial."
At those words, a gentle light spread through the plaza. Parents clutched their children, the elderly leaned on trembling canes—and in the next heartbeat, their bodies shimmered with a soft divine radiance.
"They shall not awaken a Divine Core. Instead, to them is granted the Mark of Faith. This seal shall allow them to follow the gods of their choosing, should they so desire. Until that choice is made, they shall dwell in sanctuaries—the Safe Areas."
Visions flickered through Ravens' mind: green valleys untouched by war, sanctuaries ringed by golden barriers, food and water flowing like springtime rivers.
"As long as they remain within, the Divine Will shall guard and provide for them. Their lives shall be sheltered and ordinary… unless they stray beyond its bounds."
A ripple of relief coursed through the plaza. Mothers wept, clutching children who shimmered in golden light before vanishing. The elderly, too, dissolved into the sanctuaries' embrace. Some sobbed in gratitude. Others screamed in despair at being left behind.
A girl screamed as her parents vanished into golden light, leaving her clutching at empty air. A man roared with laughter, drunk on possibility, already proclaiming himself a future god. Fights broke out in patches of the crowd as fear twisted into rage. Nations, classes, strangers—all distinctions blurred into raw human chaos.
The voice thundered again.
"Those between sixteen and fifty shall walk the true path. To them is gifted the Divine Spark—a seed of creation, the breath of godhood itself. With it, you may awaken your talent."
Ravens' pulse quickened. Around him, countless others raised their heads, faces taut with dread and hope.
"Talents are the measure of destiny. They are ranked in seven tiers: from the lowest, a dim one-star, to the highest, a blazing seven-star. By talent shall your ceiling be set… though will and faith may yet challenge the heavens."
A hush followed. To be deemed worthless before the journey even began—or to be marked as a prodigy destined to rule—every soul present understood the weight of that decree.
And still the voice pressed on, relentless, vast as the cosmos itself.
"Know also the road you must climb, for this is the ladder of divinity. It is Divided into Nine Ranks"
Images seared themselves into the minds of all: a mortal walking alone beneath endless skies, then rising higher and higher, ascending through a chain of realms.
"From Mortal(rank 1)… to Awakened(rank 2).
From Awakened… to Ascendant(rank 3).
From Ascendant… to Demigod(rank 4).
Beyond Demigod, the path divides into the dominion of divinity: Lesser God(rank 5). Greater God(rank 6). Ancient God(rank 7). Eternal God(rank 8).
And at the summit, the throne of the stars—the rank of the Cosmic Ruler(rank 9)"
Each title fell like thunder, heavy with awe. The words themselves tasted of power.
"Every step, every realm, is divided into three: Early, Middle, peak. To falter is to fall. To endure is to ascend."
By the end, the plaza trembled beneath the weight of ambition and despair. Eyes that had once been dull with fear now burned with longing. For godhood. For survival. For glory.
Ravens stood among them, his jaw tight, his breath shallow. He heard the rules. He saw the visions. And yet, beneath it all, something was wrong. Where the voice had etched clean law into every other soul, in him the words rippled, cracked, and broke into static.
The laws of ascension were perfect. Eternal. Absolute.
The voice did not fade. As the chaos of the crowd swelled, it thundered again, cutting through screams and sobs alike.
"Know this, mortals. Talents are countless—millions in form and nature. No two shall be wholly alike. Yet all are bound to the law of stars, from the lowliest one-star to the peerless seven-star."
Visions bloomed in Ravens' mind, painted in living light. He saw a man cloaked in fire, every breath a furnace. A woman whose shadow spawned endless blades. A scholar whose tongue bent mountains to dust. Some talents gleamed small and simple—an ember in the dark. Others blazed so bright they split the heavens.
The crowd trembled at the sight. Some gaped with wonder. Others clenched their fists, already dreaming of what star rank they might claim.
"But talent alone is not divinity. Only by awakening your Divine Core shall the path of godhood truly begin."
The vision shifted. Ravens saw a seed of light nestling deep within every soul, swelling, growing, until it burst forth as a radiant sphere. That sphere unfolded like a lotus, and within it spread vast landscapes—worlds entire.
"The Divine Core is your foundation. It is the reflection of your soul, your law, your destiny. It is your domain, your world."
The voice reverberated like thunder on stone.
"Through it, you shall wield power. Within it, you shall shape your godhood. Those who follow you shall dwell within its shadow, and their faith shall nourish it. Without a core, you are no god—only dust pretending at eternity."
The visions fractured, scattering into seven radiant stars.
"Like talents, Divine Cores are ranked. From the lowest one-star to the supreme seven-star, their brilliance determines the height you may reach."
Ravens swallowed hard. The crowd around him buzzed with restless energy. Some wept in anticipation. Others grinned with madness. The words had lit a fire across humanity, one that would never die.
And yet, even as the visions burned themselves into his heart, something snagged—just as before. Where others saw clarity, his sight blurred, the images repeating, distorting, collapsing into unreadable fragments. A god's world that should have been whole appeared in his mind as a broken lattice, incomplete and unstable.