The Fall of a Nobody, the Awakening of a God
If the world were ending right this second—what would I even do?
Some people would wail and scream. Others would resign themselves to the dark. Perhaps a few might even rejoice. Yet all of them would share one thing in common: every single one would meet the end swallowed by regret. Even those who pride themselves on living without remorse would feel a sliver of it gnawing at their chests. They would drown in memories, recalling choices made and moments lost, dragged under by regret whether they wanted to or not. After all, regret is never something one chooses to feel.
But what about me? If I learned that today was my last, would I feel anything resembling regret? I have no past, no future, and scarcely a present. I doubt there is anything in my story worthy of mourning. A colorless person. Someone without a single remarkable trait—yet not even normal enough to belong.
Chime—
“Have a good night.”
I stepped out of the convenience store with an empty look. A few lonely coins clinked inside my pocket.
Inhale... exhale.
The midnight air hit my lungs with an icy bite. A desolate gust of wind swept past, rustling through my hair.
“Let's see... What do I have left? About thirty-eight hundred won...?”
A heavy sigh escaped my lips. Trudging through the dark streets, crumpling the few bills in my pocket, a sudden lump rose in my throat.
“Dammit... Guess I'm starving tomorrow.”
Thirty-eight hundred won. That was my entire net worth—pathetically insufficient to endure the freezing reality before me.
“Ah... Maybe I should just die.”
Even coming from my own mouth, the words sounded ridiculous. As if a bastard without the guts to die could ever go through with it. It was just the usual nonsense I muttered to the empty air.
“If I fell from here, that'd do it...”
Leaning against the railing of the tall pedestrian overpass, I gazed out at the city's nightscape. A harsh gust of wind whipped back my hair. Staring blankly into the distance, idle thoughts drifted through my head—though none were profound, just trivial worries about how to survive tomorrow.
“...What the hell am I even doing?”
Pathetic. That was the only word for it. Leeching off my parents, rotting their hearts out from worry... A useless trash like me deserved to disappear from this world. That was what I told myself, but...
“I don't actually want to die.”
I lacked the courage to embrace death. A cowardly, timid shut-in—someone like me didn't have what it took to take their own life.
“...Should I go home?”
It had only been a single day since I impulsively stormed out of the house, and I was already exhausted. Bereft of willpower and perseverance, I had never been able to endure hardship. I had no right to look my parents in the eye, but if I made up some excuse, I could probably brush it off.
“Haah... Yeah, let's just go home.”
Thove—
“Huh?”
The moment I turned to leave, two hands shoved me violently in the back.
“Whoa—?!”
Having rested my weight loosely against the barrier, my balance was gone in an instant. I tumbled backward—tipping right over the railing. My head flipped upside down, and the world inverted before my eyes.
“Wait—?!”
My hands flailed on instinct, clutching frantically at the metal rail.
Schlick—!
“—Ah?”
The right hand gripping the railing severed cleanly from my wrist.
“Aaaarrrgghhh?!”
Agony roared through my senses. My hand—my hand was cut off! Blood gushed in a relentless torrent. But far more terrifying than the severed flesh was the sheer momentum—I was falling. Plunging from the high pedestrian overpass into the abyss below.
“Aaaaggghhh!”
The world spun upside down. The asphalt rushed toward my skull at terrifying speed. Like a shooting star falling from the heavens, I plummeted. In my fractured vision hung the serene expanse of the midnight sky—and the figure standing on the footbridge who had pushed me.
Why?
The question died in my throat, swallowed whole by raw, deafening shrieks.
“Nooooo—!”
Weightlessness seized my body as the roaring wind tore at my hair. My entrails twisted into sickening knots. Nausea surged up my throat, suffocating and vile.
Save me. Somebody save me! Am I dying? Just like this? So pointlessly? There's no way—
SPLAT—!
My skull struck the road, crushing instantly into an unrecognizable ruin. My shattered corpse was ground beneath the tires of speeding cars, flattened into a bloody smear across the cold asphalt.
“......”
The midnight street remained astonishingly desolate.
“Aaaaggghhh!”
It hurt. It hurt so goddamn much. What just happened? Did I die? But the pain was far too vivid. My hand—my hand was severed. It was definitely cut off—
“Guh... ngh?”
My hands were there. Both of them, completely intact.
“Ugh... Uuu...”
Calm down. Just calm down. Let's make sense of what happened. The pedestrian overpass. I fell from the overpass—bursting, crushed, flattened—
“Aah... Aaaaargh!”
I died. I died. I definitely died! Broken, trampled, shattered on impact—an agonizing, indisputable death. My body had blown apart into pieces, scattered across the asphalt. It hurt. It hurt so horribly! And it still hurt right now. The phantom aftershocks of death's agony clung to every nerve. When would it end? Would it ever end? I'd rather just die!
“Guh... Ack! Kaaah!”
Scratch—clack—snap!
Blood splattered. Crimson stained the floor as my fingernails splintered and tore. Even as they broke, cracked, and tore free from the beds, I couldn't stop clawing frantically at the stone floor.
“Hic... Uuugh...”
Curling into a tight ball, I wrapped my arms around my knees. Tears streamed endlessly down my face, mixing with the blood. The visceral agony of dying was far too much for my fragile mind to endure.
“What is this...? What the hell is happening to me...?”
I muttered into the silence of an empty, desolate room. Grief and indignation surged within my chest. The tears wouldn't stop, and every inch of my body stung with burning phantom wounds.
“I want to go home... I just want to go home...”
I held myself tightly, weeping into the dark. Only my ragged sobs broke the suffocating silence. Closing my eyes felt like plunging into an endless void.
“Where... Where am I...?”
As the throbbing pain began to subside, I cautiously opened my eyes and looked around. Tall windows of stained glass reminiscent of a cathedral cast a faint, ethereal glow into the hall. Outside, an enormous full moon bathed the interior in pale light.
Glancing toward the glass pane, I caught a faint reflection of myself. A few droplets of blood were splattered across my cheeks. I wiped at them with my hand, but instead of coming off, the blood only smeared across my skin, framing my sharp eyes like dark shadows.
“...Huh?”
A strange dissonance struck me, and I furrowed my brow. My pupils, once pitch black, were now burning with a piercing golden yellow.
“What the... Why are my eyes like this?”
In the gloom of the hall, the yellow irises gleamed with an unnerving luminescence. If there was any consolation, it was that the rest of my body seemed unchanged and intact.
“Am I... alive?”
I gritted my teeth as I looked at my cracked and torn fingernails. The throbbing ache was sharp and real—this was no dream. I couldn't fathom what had happened to me. I couldn't even tell whether I was dead or alive.
“...I need to get out of here first.”
Catching my breath, I slowly climbed to my feet. A lingering tremor of pain caused me to stumble, but I managed to keep my balance. Now upright, I realized the hall was far vaster than I had thought. A sprawling, empty sanctuary with not a soul in sight. How or why I had awakened in a place like this eluded me, but I didn't have the luxury to ponder it.
“Is this... a cathedral?”
Rows of long wooden pews stretched out in solemn lines. I stood right in the center aisle, illuminated by the moonlight like an actor under a spotlight. Standing surrounded by silent pews bathed in silver radiance gave me an unpleasant chill.
“Creepy... Let's get out of here, fast.”
Walking past the pews, I reached a colossal set of double doors. They had no handles.
“This looks like the exit, but—”
I reached out, running my fingers lightly across the surface. I hadn't done anything special—merely brushed against the wood.
Fwoooosh—!
The doors ignited with dazzling radiance—a color so magnificent it defied all mortal description. The blinding luminescence engulfed me completely.
At that moment, a reverent woman's voice echoed in my ears.
“Pope—Lord ‘Al Camidew’, congratulations on your return.”
Al Camidew...? Who is that? My name is... My name...
What was my name...?
“Your name is ‘Al Camidew’.”
No. That wasn't my name—
“Your name is ‘Al Camidew’.”
...
My name is...
“Your name is—”
What was my name... again?
“‘Al Camidew’.”
Ah, right. I suppose it was.
My name is Al Camidew. Pope of Qurban Cathedral.
Yes, that was it. It had always been so.
“Once again, congratulations on your return.”
Yes. It has been long. Far too long...
“What is the date?”
“It is January 12, Imperial Year 408.”
Four hundred years, is it...? It took far too long. Despicable scum of the Empire.
“Tira, we proceed according to plan.”
“Understood. Shall I summon the Cardinals?”
“Forget it. I will only be slumbering again soon enough anyway.”
“Then what would you have me do?”
“Keep a close eye on this body so it causes no mishaps.”
“Yes, understood.”
“Very well. Good work.”
“Think nothing of it.”
Chime—
With the faint, signature mechanical hum, the woman's voice cut out.
I—no, Al Camidew—spread both arms wide.
Motes of black and white light coalesced around Al Camidew, taking solid form. The radiant crystals merged into an elegant garment, transfiguring the threadbare tracksuit he wore into an immaculate monochrome suit.
“Hmph... Not bad.”
The corners of Al Camidew's lips curled into a satisfied smirk.
“Kahah! I can hardly wait to see how this brat reacts.”
Raising both arms halfway, he bathed in the moonlight. He closed his eyes, centering his consciousness entirely on the sensation of the silver glow.
“Now then—let's see you endure this, you little brat.”
Once more, the colossal doors flared with brilliant radiance and swung open. Al Camidew stepped through the threshold, striding out of the hall.
Beyond the doors lay a sheer precipice.
He walked to the edge of the cliff, illuminated starkly by the colossal full moon. The vista spreading below was breathtakingly vast.
Thousands upon thousands of people were weeping beneath the cliff. A sea of faces gazed up toward Al Camidew, their hands clasped in prayer as ecstatic, reverent cries tore from their throats.
“Ah... How I have missed this.”
A single phrase. Just one. Yet those few words carried an immense, earth-shaking resonance.
The crowd erupted into thunderous roars and weeping cheers. Al Camidew watched the spectacle with an amused smile, spreading his arms wide.
“Yes... I missed it indeed.”
He looked up at the sky.
No—he looked down upon the sky.
For he was the only man who stood above the heavens themselves.
Everything in existence lay beneath him. He had always looked down upon all creation.
An omnipotent, supreme sovereign.
Al Camidew. He was—
The living, reigning ruler of the world.