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✨ FULL CH
Chapter 1
Fire burned in Ren's palm.
Not the harmless warmth of a candle—but living flame, obedient and waiting for his will.
He stared at his hand in disbelief.
It was small. Too small. Soft fingers, fragile skin.
He was five years old.
And he should have been dead.
Ren sucked in a sharp breath and jolted upright, his heart slamming violently against a child's chest. The bed beneath him was narrow and rough, nothing like the apartment in Tokyo where his life should have ended beneath blinding light and shattered sound.
His knees hit the wooden floor as he slid down, pain flaring sharply through a body that felt unfamiliar and weak.
This wasn't his body.
This wasn't his world.
Dusty air filled his lungs. A single window covered by thin cloth let in pale sunlight. A chipped dresser leaned against the wall. Everything felt poor. Simple.
Real.
A sudden sob sounded from beyond the door.
Ren froze.
Footsteps—light, hurried—approached, and the door creaked open.
A girl stepped inside, no more than ten years old. Her hair was the color of dried wheat, her eyes wide with worry.
"Ren!" she whispered urgently, rushing to him. "You're awake! Please—please stop scaring Mother like that. You've been asleep for days."
She grabbed his arm, her hands trembling.
Days?
Ren swallowed. His voice came out thin, high-pitched, wrong.
"I… I'm sorry."
The girl sagged in relief. "It's okay. Come eat. Mother made your favorite stew." She hesitated, then leaned closer, lowering her voice. "And don't worry about the magic. Father says it'll come to you soon."
Magic.
The word struck like a hammer.
As she pulled him toward the door, something stirred deep in Ren's mind—distant, vast, and impossibly heavy.
Six names echoed faintly, like whispers brushing his soul.
Fire.
Wind.
Water.
Earth.
Plant.
Ice.
Six thrones.
That night, Ren lay awake in the darkness.
The house was silent, broken only by the strange chirping of an insect he didn't recognize.
He closed his eyes.
And remembered.
A stone table floated in a void filled with stars.
Six seats surrounded it.
Three were occupied.
An elderly man with a beard glowing like molten moonlight—the God of Fire.
A woman with eyes like burning amber—the God of Wind.
And a silent child with skin pale as ice—the God of Personal Magic.
"My apologies," the child had said, his voice chiming through Ren's soul. "You were not meant to die. A side effect of my experiment."
Experiment.
"You were displaced permanently from your world."
The God of Fire had sighed. "The original soul had already departed. Your arrival… was convenient."
"As compensation," the Wind Goddess smiled, beautiful and terrifying, "we will grant you power beyond mortality."
Six thrones flared with divine light.
"All fundamental magic," she continued softly. "And mastery over weapons themselves."
Ren remembered the fire poured into his soul—searing, overwhelming—before settling into something obedient.
Wind followed. Knowledge of movement. Freedom.
The child god's voice echoed last:
"You may learn and combine any personal magic—faster than any being alive."
Then the temperature dropped.
An empty throne stood before them.
"The Ice God left a prophecy," the Fire God whispered.
A single sentence carved itself into Ren's soul:
A catastrophe will come.
And so will the one who decides its fate.
Ren's eyes snapped open.
His body trembled.
It wasn't a dream.
Slowly, carefully, he raised his hand.
He focused—not on fear, not on doubt—but on will.
Warmth gathered in his palm.
A flicker.
Then a perfect, miniature flame danced on his fingertip.
Ren stared at it, breath caught in his throat.
Magic was real,Gods were real.And so was the power sleeping inside him.
He extinguished the flame with a thought and lay back down, staring into the dark.
If this world had gods, monsters, and prophecies—
Then surviving wouldn't be enough.
A small smile curved across the child's face.
He would never be powerless again.