I sat on the edge of my bed, backpack still half-zipped at my feet, cards gone, light faded. Just me, the quiet, and the weight of divinity buzzing behind my eyes.
"I'm really doing this, huh?" I murmured.
> Tip: Confirmation. You are now an active divine entity.
I ran a hand through my hair, staring blankly at the phone screen still hovering midair. No spinning cards. No golden glow. Just text now. Almost mundane.
Except it wasn't.
"I thought there'd be… more fanfare. Trumpets. Choirs. At least a dramatic anime transformation."
> Tip: Resources allocated to initiation sequence complete. Dramatic flair deprioritized.
I exhaled, long and slow. "Right. Of course. No time for style when the world's ending."
Silence.
Not denial.
Just… silence.
That shut me up.
"Okay," I said. "So I'm a god now. Still don't feel like one. Still don't know what I'm doing. But you said something before. About needing a Hero."
> Tip: Correct. As a Divine, your influence manifests through mortal vessels. You must locate and awaken a compatible Hero.
"Right. So just to be clear… I'm not the hero."
> Tip: You are the god.
"Which means I don't do the fighting?"
> Tip: Your role is to guide. Influence. Empower. Heroes act on your will and behalf.
I frowned. "So I'm some kind of divine mentor-slash-manager?"
> Tip: Analogy acceptable. You provide purpose, miracles, and power. The Hero acts as your divine blade.
"And if I pick the wrong one?"
> Tip: Then you risk divine collapse. Planetary failure. Consumption by outer forces. Unmaking.
I blinked. "Wow. No pressure."
> Tip: Pressure is expected. You are no longer mortal.
I stared at the dim ceiling of my bedroom. This place already felt like a memory.
"I don't even know what kind of person I'm looking for."
> Tip: That is your judgment to make. But compatibility is determined by belief, potential, and need.
"Belief in what?"
> Tip: In you.
That shut me up again.
They had to believe in me. Not in gods. Not in good. Me. Some kid with a backpack and unresolved trauma and a granola bar he never finished.
"…Great," I muttered. "So I'm looking for someone dumb enough to think I'm worth following."
> Tip: Or someone desperate enough to have nothing left to lose.
My eyes narrowed. "You're not good at pep talks."
> Tip: You were not chosen for comfort. You were chosen for clarity.
"…That's both the nicest and meanest thing anyone's ever said to me."
> Tip: You will depart upon command. Or when fate requires it.
I looked around the room one last time. My desk. My old hoodie on the chair. My textbooks. My boring, human life.
Then I looked at the phone screen.
"I'm not ready," I said quietly.
> Tip: You won't be. But that's never stopped gods before.
I stood up.
"Then let's go find a Hero."
The moment I said the words—"Then let's go find a Hero"—the phone flared to life in my hand.
Light, warm and blinding, swallowed everything.
No sound. No wind. No falling sensation.
Just the quiet unraveling of space.
Then—
Grass.
Dirt.
Air that tasted cleaner than anything I'd ever breathed.
And trees. So many trees. Thick, towering trunks with twisted roots and leaves like green fire. The light filtered through them in golden shafts like something out of a high-budget fantasy movie.
I stood on the edge of a forest, just where the treeline broke into open field.
"Okay," I muttered, squinting around. "So this is Elysia."
It didn't feel fake. It didn't feel like a dream. It felt real. Too real. The kind of real where your brain starts noticing things like how the grass brushes your ankles and the sun actually feels warm and there's a weirdly aggressive bug buzzing near your ear.
I slapped it away. "Yup. Fantasy world confirmed."
The phone—still in my hand like it had no plans of leaving me—pinged softly.
> Tip: Local interface engaged. Open world map accessible.
I blinked. "Wait. I have a map?"
The screen shifted at a thought. A semi-transparent display spread out before me, showing a surrounding area: forests, rivers, nearby structures. One small icon glowed faintly near the edge of the map.
> Divine Anchor Set: Forest Fringe, Province of Velmire
"Sounds fancy. Looks like trees."
I minimized the map with a swipe of my finger, and finally looked down at myself.
Outfit check.
Hoodie? Gone.
Jeans? Gone.
Phone and soul intact—clothes, however, had been upgraded.
I was wearing something that looked like a traveler's cloak over layered tunics. Neutral colors, earthy and practical. Leather boots. Simple sash belt. Even a satchel at my hip, already stocked with "starter" items—flint, dried rations, a waterskin, and what I really hoped wasn't some kind of medieval deodorant.
"…Huh. Not bad."
I tugged the cloak tighter. "At least I don't look like I got isekai'd mid-class."
Everything was tailored to blend in. No modern seams, no obvious stitching that screamed "alien technology." Even the fabric felt coarse, a little itchy. Authentic. Uncomfortable in that very real kind of way.
> Tip: Garments adapted to local aesthetic. Magic signature suppressed.
"Wow. So you do care about subtlety."
> Tip: Your survival is statistically improved when not mistaken for a heretic.
"Comforting."
The trees rustled ahead. I took one last look at the field behind me—silent, empty, stretching toward a horizon I no longer belonged to.
Then I stepped forward.
Into Elysia.
---
I followed the glowing icon on the map like I was chasing down a food delivery—only this time, the order was destiny, and I wasn't tipping.
The forest path twisted gently, roots knotting the earth and branches curving just high enough not to slap me in the face. Despite the dramatic stories, the forest wasn't whispering secrets or glowing with ancient magic. It was just… a forest.
Fresh air, sure. But aside from that?
Leaves. Trees. More leaves. Grass. That weirdly shaped mushroom. I'd seen most of it on nature vlogs and overly-filtered Instagram hikes.
"Honestly?" I muttered, stepping over a fallen log. "This place feels like a slightly higher-definition national park."
And then—movement.
I froze.
Up ahead, someone stepped through the brush.
A person.
Hooded, alone, carrying a bundle of sticks. Their clothes were patched in places, simple, travel-worn. Just a random peasant-looking figure who seemed like they'd walked straight out of a background shot from a historical drama.
That's when it happened.
The Eye opened.
Not literally—there wasn't a giant eyeball floating in the sky—but I felt it. Like something in my head clicked, and suddenly, information poured in like a HUD popping into reality.
Name: Rehka
Age: 23
Skill: None
Potential: F
I blinked.
"...Okay. Brutal, but honest."
No health bar, no "quest-giver" title. Just name, age, and a hard pass on the whole "chosen one" thing. The person didn't even notice me, just trudged by with a tired look and a stick bundle like this was Tuesday.
I let them pass, exhaling quietly.
So this is what it meant. The Ever-Seeing Eyes.
Not flashy. Not loud. Just the truth, plain and clinical, peeling back everything the world tried to hide.
I looked down at my hands.
"With this," I murmured, "I can find them."
The Hero.
I wouldn't have to guess. I wouldn't need vague dreams or cryptic scrolls. I could see their potential. Know who was worth betting the world on.
No prophecy. No fate.
Just data.
I grinned.
"Cheat code unlocked."
I kept walking. Every person I saw from here on out? I'd see them for who they really were.
And somewhere out there—buried under leaves and bad life choices—was the one person whose potential didn't scream F.
The one I was here to find.