The sun was high, and the village was alive.
Children ran barefoot through the cobbled streets, laughing as they chased a wooden wheel between stalls. A merchant shouted about fresh peaches, and a blacksmith wiped sweat from his brow as he hammered at something glowing red. Wind chimes danced in the breeze, and above it all, birds circled lazily under the perfect blue sky.
In this small, peaceful place, Vincent stepped out of his home.
He shut the wooden door gently behind him, adjusting the long cloth sheath at his side — strange in shape, a little worn, and wrapped tightly in binding bands. His black hair was messy, tied loosely in a short tail. He looked maybe twenty. Sharp-eyed. Focused. Not dangerous — not yet.
Just… aware.
As he moved toward the center of town, the usual voices greeted him — "Morning, Vincent!" from the baker's wife, "Still carrying that weird stick around?" from the butcher's son. He only smiled lightly in return, saying little.
Then came a familiar voice — older, warmer.
"You're up early, boy."
Vincent turned to see Erald, the elder of the village, leaning on his staff and smiling beneath a shaggy white beard. "That sword still sleeping, or are you finally planning to use it?"
Vincent smirked faintly. "It's not a sword. Not yet."
"Mm," Erald said, walking beside him. "I remember when I was your age. Couldn't wait to point a blade at something. These days I just want to make sure kids don't stab each other over whose soup is better."
They shared a small laugh.
They walked together like this for a while, through the village. Kids playing, friends waving, lives unfolding.
Then it happened.
A deep hum.
It began softly — like thunder far away — but grew until the earth itself shivered. The sky dimmed, not from clouds, but from shadows stretching across the sun.
People looked up.
And screamed.
Seven beings descended from the sky, each trailing power like a storm behind them. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. The moment they arrived, the world split open.
Creatures spilled from behind them — twisted soldiers of flame, stone, vines, shadow, time, and more. Villagers ran in every direction. Houses were torn apart in moments. Bodies hit the ground. Blood stained the stones.
Vincent froze.
No… this can't be real…
He staggered back as a child was thrown through a wall. Erald grabbed his arm.
"Vincent! Run! GO!"
"They're… they're from the books," Vincent whispered. "They're the Seven…"
But Erald didn't hear — not fully. A creature surged toward them — long, jagged limbs and smoke for a face. Vincent turned to warn the elder—
Too late.
The thing pierced Erald straight through.
"KALE!!"
The old man's staff cracked as he crumpled. Vincent screamed, yanked the bindings off his sheath, and drew the weapon within — a long, steel-edged blade humming faintly with Emnance.
His eyes lit with blue-white energy as he shouted the command:
"Bind: Emnance Flow!"
Power surged through his limbs, veins glowing. He rushed the creature and cleaved it in half, not hesitating. Blood — not his — sprayed the ground.
And then she arrived.
A figure of shadows, cloaked in swirling darkness, stepped lightly from the sky. A woman — tall, sleek, with flowing black-violet hair and cold, glowing eyes. Her voice was like broken silk.
"You have potential," she said, grinning. "But it won't save you."
Before he could move, she vanished.
Then reappeared behind him.
Vincent gasped.
His right arm fell to the ground.
He turned in pain, barely standing, and saw her holding it in her claws like a toy. "There's no way this is Emnance…" he muttered, staggering.
She laughed, soft and cruel. "Humans… always thinking they matter."
He swung his sword — wild, panicked.
She raised a finger.
The blade snapped like glass.
And in a breath, her claw slashed across his neck.
Vincent fell to his knees, blood spilling down his chest. His vision dimmed.
Then—
a light.
Far in the sky, a glowing figure emerged — divine, radiant, Solan — the god who once stood against the Seven.
All Seven turned toward him.
The battle began. Chaos. Light clashing with darkness. The sky split.
But Vincent saw none of it.
He was already collapsing.
Everything's going cold…
I failed…
Silence.
Stillness.
Vincent opened his eyes. There was no sky. No ground. Just white — stretching endlessly in every direction.
He staggered upright, confused, then froze.
His arm… was back.
His throat… untouched.
"…I'm alive?"
His voice echoed strangely — like it wasn't really part of this place.
Then, a breeze. Even though there was no wind.
A ripple in the distance.
And she appeared.
A girl — or maybe a woman — with long, white hair, drifting behind her like ribbons. Her skin was pale, but not dead. Her eyes were pure white, no pupils, no color — like twin moons. She wore a flowing dress that shimmered slightly as if woven from light itself. Her feet didn't touch the ground.
She stopped a few feet in front of him, hands folded gently in front of her.
"You have questions," she said softly. "Ask."
"…Where am I?"
"Between death and return. A realm with no name."
He looked around again. "Am I dead?"
"You were," she replied. "Now you're something else. Something… waiting."
He paused, staring at her.
"…What happened? To the village? To me?"
She tilted her head.
"You were killed. All of them were. Your world, as you knew it, ended that day."
Her words hit like a hammer.
"…Then why am I here?"
"Because I chose you."
Vincent took a step back. "Why? Who even are you?"
She smiled gently — not kindly, but with timeless patience.
"I was once a divine being… like them."
"…The Seven?"
She nodded. "Long ago, the world was whole. All Seven Realms — the sky, the fire, the flesh, the law, the shadow, the light, and the time — were one. Then came the Sundering."
Vincent listened, heart still racing.
"They were sealed away. Not destroyed — simply divided. For balance. For peace. Your world, the mortal world, became the center. The bridge."
"And now… they're back."
"Yes. The seals were broken. One by one. The Seven Deities returned — each tied to one of the Realms. They are not rulers. They are manifestations. They were born from the very essence of the Realms they now try to reclaim."
She walked slowly in a circle around him, speaking almost like a prophetess.
"Solmara, the Realm of Flame and Will — where eternal war burns and kings never sleep."
"Aetheros, the Realm of Sky and Vision — where cities fly and time is clear."
"Virelya, the Realm of Growth and Flesh — a garden of gods and monsters."
"Kalasht, the Realm of Stone and Law — where everything is bound by contract and oath."
"Nhar'Duun, the Realm of Shadow and Memory — your killer's home. She who walks between thoughts."
"Zurein, the Realm of Silence and Time — a place where even light must whisper."
"Elyndra, the Realm of Light and Dream — false paradise, where nothing is truly real."
Vincent stared at her in awe and horror.
"They've already conquered the world," she said. "The Seven Realms now overlap your world. Each Deity brought their Realm with them — folding them into this reality like paper. Cities float in the sky. Forests eat flesh. Mountains walk. The timeline is broken in places. Memory is currency."
"…And I slept through all of it."
"You were dead," she said simply. "Until now."
Vincent took a deep breath.
"Why me?"
"Because Solan failed," she whispered, her voice suddenly darker. "He fought all seven. He could not defeat them. And now… you will."
His fists clenched. "I couldn't even stop one."
"You couldn't no one could," she agreed. "But you will. I will give you time. Knowledge. A new beginning."
She stepped closer, her eyes glowing slightly.
"But this is your only chance, Vincent. I can send you back. Seven hundred years later. The world is unrecognizable. But the Seven still rule. Each one believes they cannot fall. You must prove them wrong."
He stared into her gaze — his reflection mirrored in her eyes.
"Do you want revenge?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
She lifted her hand.
"Then rise again."
Light exploded around him — warm, painful, infinite.
Vincent gasped awake.
Grass tickled his face. A warm wind rushed by. He opened his eyes — the sky was blue, cloudless. Birds chirped in strange songs he didn't recognize.
He sat up quickly.
Everything was too big.
He looked at his hands — small. His legs — short.
He stumbled to a puddle nearby, stared at the reflection.
A child. Five, maybe six.
His eyes trembled.
"I'm… back."
But not the same.
Not yet.
Vincent breathed hard, still dazed.
They're going to pay.
Every last one of them