The first thing I knew was cold.
A shudder wracked my body—my body?—as my eyes flew open. The world was a blur of green and gold, too bright, too much. I gasped, and the air burned my lungs like fire.
What—?
I tried to move, but my limbs were heavy, uncooperative. Clay dust clung to my skin, crumbling away as my body twitched. My fingers dug into the earth beneath me—earth, grass, dirt—words bubbling up in my mind without meaning.
Who—?
Voices. Had there been voices? A man's laughter, a woman's sigh—gone now, swallowed by the wind. I lifted my head, and the forest swayed around me, trees towering like silent sentinels.
A sound escaped my throat—not a word, not yet, just noise. Alive. I'm alive. But what did that mean?
My chest ached. When I pressed a hand to it, I felt something beat beneath his palm.
Heart. Mine.
A bird cried overhead. I flinched, then halted, staring up at the sky—vast, endless, blue.
Where am I?
And deeper, quieter:
What am I?
The cold still lingers on my skin when—
Pain.
It hits without warning, a searing pain in my head hits me and I can't help but let out a scream, the sound tearing from my throat like an animal's cry.
My vision fractures as images flood my mind—The way fire burns but also comforts, how to turn a scream into words, that thirst means water, hunger means food, how to make fists when threatened— common sense.
Another jolt — Male. Female. Words that slot into place, explaining the differences in the bodies around me, Night. Day. The push and pull of time I somehow already understand, the way day always follows night, winter always follows fall— simple knowledge.
I clutch my head, gasping as the storm of knowledge finally stills. When I open my eyes, the world is sharper. Clearer.
Around me, others stir—some groaning, some weeping, all clutching their heads as if they were struck by the same invisible whip—they must have felt it too—I think. The memories gave me words for them,men with broad shoulders, women with softer curves, but no names. No faces I recognize.
I try to stand, my legs trembling beneath me. As I was about to get up, something caught my eye. There seemed to be a black and white square thing shaped above me. A memory tries to surface—chessboard, painting, screen—but none of it fits. This thing is strange.
It said…
[New organism detected]
[Checking talent]
[Result: The Organism does have enough talent to be remembered]
[Integrating…]
…
Above in the clouds, the realm of gods, in Athena's temple.
The golden halls of Athena's temple shimmered under the eternal twilight of Olympus. Prometheus sprawled across a marble bench, idly swirling a goblet of grapes when suddenly—
"Hmmm?" His nose scrunched up, his wine red eyes narrowing.
Athena glanced up from her war table, where maps of the mortal realm were spread across its surface. "What's wrong?" she asked, though the tension in her shoulders betrayed her casual tone.
Prometheus sat up, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by something sharper. "Don't you sense it?"
"Sense wh—?" Athena's words died in her throat as her divine sense stretched downward—toward the mortal world, toward their creations. Her silver eyes widened, fingers tightening around the edge of the table until the marble cracked as she broke out in a cold sweat.
Below, the hundred humans—their humans—stood bathed in an eerie, shifting light. The air around them shimmered with something older than gods, something that existed even before time had meaning.
The Akashic Record, the infinite library of existence itself, where every thought, every action, every secret of the cosmos was etched into eternity. It was the fabric beneath all things. Not even the gods could command it. They could only brush against its edges, catching fragments like fireflies in the dark.
And yet…
Below, the humans stood motionless, their mortal forms trembling as the Record's light pulsed around them. It wasn't just touching them—it was seeping into them, threading through their bodies. Thier soul.
Prometheus tilted his head, lips quirking into an almost childlike smile. "To think they'd be chosen by it~" He tapped his chin, feigning innocence. "Have we perhaps… overdone it?"
Athena exhaled through her teeth, the sound somewhere between frustration and dread. "Haa… If Zeus or any of the others find out, they'll never let them be." Her gaze darkened. "You know how they are, if any other being other than themselves has acces to the Akashic Record, they will consider them a threat"
Prometheus' grin didn't waver, but his voice dropped, low and resolute. "Then we'll just have to make sure we hide them properly."
A beat of silence. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled—ominous, but not yet a threat.
Athena finally nodded, straightening her posture. "We'll also guide them. Subtly."
"Or not-so-subtly," Prometheus' voice rang out as he stood up, his appearance slowly changing into that of a mysterious old man. "Where's the fun in subtlety?" he laughed as he ran toward the exit and leaped once more into the void below.
"Fuck" Athena cursed.
…
[Name: Ylem]
[Age: 0]
[Race: Divine Human (Still Human)]
[Status: Ancestor of Human Race]
[Traits: [Extreme Adaptability] [Divine Blood] [Sacred Clay] [Spark of Divinity]]
[Progress: [Divine Energy: 0,01%]]
[Extreme Adaptability: As a human, adaptability is one of your greatest strengths—but as a superior being, yours has ascended beyond ordinary limits. Given enough time, you can adapt to nearly anything the world presents.]
[Divine Blood: The tear of a lesser War God flows through your veins, granting you immense vitality. You are immortal—only the complete destruction of your head can end your life. Mastering the arts of war comes effortlessly to you, and you possess the innate potential to achieve supreme mastery with nearly any weapon.]
[Sacred Clay: Your bones, your organs, and your flesh are made out of sacred clay. You have higher bone density, tougher organs, and strong, durable flesh.]
[Spark of Divinity: A Spark of Divinity is engraved in your soul. Those who wield divinity transcend mortal limitations, gaining infinite lifespan. As a bearer of divinity, you are granted the power to perceive the world's true essence and ascend to godhood.]
[Divine Energy: The path from mortal to god unfolds before you. For every 10% of progress made, your abilities will take a monumental leap forward. Reach 100% and you will ascend to true godhood.]
I read through the runes, trying to understand them, and I could.
But something was wrong.
According to the fragmented memories now seared into my consciousness, humans weren't meant for this. They were fragile things—short-lived, weak, their brief sparks of existence barely lasting four decades if they were lucky.
I barely had time to process the implications before—
Clap!
The sound cracked through the air like divine judgment, sharp and deliberate. My head snapped up, muscles tensing instinctively.
There, standing at the edge of the clearing, was an old man.
He was wrong in ways I couldn't articulate—his presence warped the air around him, reality itself bending subtly to accommodate him. His robes were simple, weathered linen, but they hung unnaturally still, untouched by the wind. His face was lined with age, yet his eyes... His eyes were endless. Pupils like voids, swallowing the light, framed by wrinkles that spoke of both wisdom and something far older.
His hands remained pressed together from the clap, fingers long and gnarled like ancient roots. A smile played at his lips—not kind, not cruel, but knowing.
And then he spoke.