The golden voice fell silent at last, leaving only the thunder of a million heartbeats echoing in the colossal plaza. The statues loomed overhead, their carved eyes smoldering with strange light, as if waiting for the birth of gods.
Then the sky flared.
A second sun ignited above the plaza, blinding in its radiance. Threads of fire spilled from it, breaking apart into countless motes that descended toward the crowd. Each spark burned brighter than a star, yet drifted as gently as snow.
"Now begins the Awakening. Each candidate shall be drawn into their own space. There, you shall face the sea of sparks. Extend your hand—and the spark that answers you shall define your destiny."
Light exploded.
Ravens' vision blurred, and when it cleared, the plaza, the crowd, the statues—all were gone.
He stood alone in a vast expanse. There was no sky, no ground—only a boundless void alive with drifting motes of light. They floated like stars, millions upon millions, weaving together in rivers of radiance that stretched into infinity.
His breath caught. It was beautiful. Terrifying.
This was the Awakening Space.
Each mote pulsed faintly, yet no two were the same. Some glowed soft and dim, as though barely alive. Others burned like suns, their light almost painful to behold. They were the Divine Sparks, and somewhere among them lay the one that would answer him.
The voice whispered again, soft but absolute.
"Spread your hands. The spark that answers shall reveal your talent, and with it, your Divine Core."
Ravens hesitated. His heart pounded like a drum. He thought of his late rent, his empty wallet, his family thousands of miles away. All of that seemed so small now. This was bigger. This was everything.
Slowly, he raised his arms.
The void stirred.
The sparks shivered, shifting as if sensing his presence. A handful drifted toward him, faint glimmers that brushed against his fingertips before fading back into the endless sea. Then came more—dozens, then hundreds—swirling around him in a spiral of light.
It was as if the void itself was testing him, weighing him.
Then one blazed brighter. A shard of golden fire broke free from the swarm and shot toward him, pulling all others in its wake. It was huge, radiant, searing—like the birth of a star. Ravens gasped as it streaked into his chest—
And fractured.
The spark burst apart in static, collapsing into jagged shards of light that dissolved into nothing.
Ravens staggered back, clutching his chest. "What… what was that?!"
The void convulsed. Sparks flickered and died around him. Others bent toward him, only to glitch, their shapes warping into broken fragments before winking out. The rivers of light twisted as though recoiling from his presence.
Pain lanced through his skull.
[Error: Spark Assimilation Failed.]
[Candidate Classification: Undefined.]
[Warning: Awakening Path Unknown.]
The words were not spoken aloud. They were carved into him, raw and merciless.
He fell to his knees, gasping. Where there should have been clarity—a spark chosen, a talent awakened, a Divine Core forming—there was only static. Only ruin.
And then he saw it.
Amid the storm of failing sparks, one light remained. It did not blaze like a sun, nor shimmer like the others. It flickered weakly, erratically—like a broken lantern in a storm. And yet, against all reason, it drifted toward him.
Ravens stared as it pressed against his palm.
The instant it touched, the void screamed.
The light pressed into Ravens' palm—cold, not warm. Where others had described fire, radiance, or flowing rivers of power, his spark felt jagged, brittle, like broken glass grinding into flesh.
He gasped as it sank into him.
The void around him convulsed. Sparks that had drifted near shattered into fragments. The rivers of light recoiled, warping and breaking as if reality itself had been corrupted by his presence.
Ravens screamed as something tore open inside his chest.
A vision erupted.
He saw a world being born. Or at least, he should have. For others, this was the moment their Divine Core crystallized—a radiant domain, the reflection of their soul, a seed of their godhood. But his vision was not of lush fields or burning suns.
His core was a ruin.
A fractured lattice of obsidian and light, pieces hanging adrift in a void that leaked static. Where there should have been rivers, there were cracks. Where there should have been sky, there was distortion. His world pulsed like a broken machine, endlessly rebooting yet never whole.
Ravens staggered back, clutching at the phantom world unraveling in his chest. His breath came ragged, his heart stuttering as the vision collapsed.
Then the voice of the System roared again.
"Awakening complete. Divine Core formed."
His body grew weightless, then heavy again, as though pulled into the gravity of something vast and intimate.
When his vision cleared, he was standing alone.
Before him stretched a boundless expanse—but not of stone or sky. The space shimmered, a half-formed world.
His chest burned. Ravens knew instinctively: this was his Divine Core World.
For others, it would be a reflection of self, a domain to be shaped, a foundation upon which godhood could be built. Some would awaken fields of endless flame, forests of immortal wood, or seas of starlight.
But his?
His world was broken. Fragments floated where mountains should rise, rivers bled into voids of static, and the very sky split with cracks of light and shadow. It pulsed in jagged rhythms, never still, never whole.
The System's voice boomed once more, majestic yet mechanical:
"You have entered your Divine Core World.
New functions unlocked due to zoning.
Status, Regional Chat, Private Message
As the decree thundered through his soul, glowing glyphs appeared before his eyes. A translucent panel hovered, showing faint outlines of functions waiting to be touched.
The translucent panel rippled. Lines of text scrolled across faster than Ravens could keep up, each new message burning with desperation, pride, or madness.
[Regional Chat – Zone 1000 Active]
— "Two stars… I only got two. Is that good? Am I dead already?"
— "Ha! Three stars here. Talent: Iron-Blooded Soldier. Anyone need protection, come under me."
— "Three stars too! Mine's Blessed Archer! Says arrows will never miss!"
— "Two stars, Stone Skin. I guess I'll just be a meat shield…"
The chat erupted in overlapping threads, voices clashing in a storm of emotion. Most hovered between two and three stars, their words tinged with relief that they weren't at the very bottom—or despair that they weren't at the top.
Then came the brighter flares.
— "Five stars, baby! Talent: Priest of Fire. Flames bend at my will. Hahaha! Who dares challenge me now?"
— "Five stars, Thunder Disciple! Kneel, mortals!"
— "Another five here. Blessed Healer. If you want to live, start forming a line!"
The chat boiled, dozens replying at once:
— "Damn, five stars? Already monsters among us…"
— "How the hell is a Healer five stars and my Sword Intent only three??!"
— "Lightning and fire… gods above, the power gap's too big already."
Then a rarer, prouder voice cut through the storm:
— "Six stars. Child of Storms. The System itself whispered my destiny. Remember this name—I will be god."
The regional feed paused for a heartbeat, then exploded.
— "Six stars??"
— "Impossible! Screenshot or shut up!"
— "A chosen one… already among us?
Jealousy, awe, and ambition swirled like wildfire.
Through it all, Ravens' eyes lingered on the endless scroll of stars, names, and talents. Two stars. Three stars. A handful of fives. One claim of six. Everyone scrambling to measure themselves against each other.
He lowered his gaze to his own panel.
The glyphs flickered, distorted, refusing to settle into clear form. Where others had neat lines of text and blazing stars, his looked as though reality itself could not decide what he was.
[Status Panel]
Name: Ravens Smith
Talent: ?? (?? Stars)
Divine Core: Undefined
Classification:Bugged
Rank: Mortal God – Early Stage (Rank 1)
Constitution: 100
Combat Power: 1,000(Constitution × 10.)
The numbers glowed faintly, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Ravens' breath hitched.
"Rank… one?" he whispered.
Explanations poured into his mind, seared into his skull by the System itself.
The first step of divinity: Mortal God. Even at its lowest, it was a foothold upon eternity. Each small ascension within the rank—early, middle, peak—would raise his constitution by 100. When he reached 250, he would be eligible to break through into the next realm: Awakened God, Rank 2.
And constitution was more than just numbers. It was life-force, resilience, the strength of the divine body. It was the measure of how much power one could bear without shattering.
Combat Power: Constitution × 10.
A simple calculation, but brutal in its clarity. At 100 constitution, his combat power stood at 1,000. Enough to crush mortals effortlessly. But compared to those destined to blaze with five- or six-star talents, how long would that number hold weight?
Ravens stared at the panel, numb.
Bugged. Undefined. Yet Rank 1, all the same.
Was this mercy? Or mockery?
Around him, the Regional Chat still burned with noise—boasts of three-star archers, five-star flame priests, the lone voice claiming to be a six-star prodigy. Everyone was shouting, competing, already dreaming of godhood.
But Ravens' panel was different. Broken. Glitched. An enigma even to the System.
And somehow, deep in his chest, his fractured Divine Core pulsed like a wounded beast, alive despite its ruin.
He closed the panel with trembling hands.
If this was the foundation he had been given, then he would build upon it—even if the world itself called him a mistake.