The dream came without warning. No fluttering transition. No weightless drift into sleep.
Just—darkness. And then a voice.
"Save my mother... I will do anything."
It was a boy's voice. Young, but grounded—anchored by something heavier than his years should carry. Not desperation. Not yet. Just determination, tempered like a blade.
I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Only watch.
He stood beneath something vast and unseen—shadows folding like curtains above him. I couldn't make out his full face. Just fragments. A flicker of green eyes—sharp, unnaturally bright. A wound glistening just below one ear, raw and deep, as if something had tried to carve him open and failed. Something on his forehead gleamed faintly—etched lines, a mark, or maybe metal. I couldn't tell.
His skin was completely covered by his clothes. Not armor, not robes. Something utilitarian. Alien. He looked... wrong for this world. Or maybe too right.
"I will give anything," he whispered now, lower. "Even myself."
Then came silence.
The moment I blinked, the dream shifted.
The boy vanished. The weight of his words dissolved into smoke.
And in its place—silence.
Then, breath. Labored. Wet.
A dim light peeled back the edge of darkness, revealing a massive figure sprawled across blackened earth. A buck—not just any deer, but one carved from myth. Towering. Majestic. His coat once a gleaming bronze now matted with blood. His antlers—a brilliant lattice of golden branches—twisted like a crown, cracked at the edges, some snapped clean through.
He was breathing in shallow, rattling gasps. Each exhale sent steam curling up into nothingness.
His eyes found me.
No, not me. The dream-me. Something else. Something beyond sight. But he saw.
And in that gaze—ancient sorrow. Pride humbled. A king fallen. A god undone.
Darkness crept in from all sides. Not shadow. Something thicker. Hungrier. It pulsed and whispered with no tongue, lapping at the buck's body like oil.
He didn't move. Couldn't. His body trembled once—an almost imperceptible defiance—and then stilled.
The golden horns caught the fading light one last time, gleaming like a dying sun.
As if cued by breath, the dream unraveled again.
The darkness trembled—then cracked, like glass underfoot.
From its depths rose a tree. Black as pitch. Gnarled, monstrous, wrong. Its bark glistened with something too wet to be sap. The roots moved—not dragged, not grown—they walked, thudding against unseen ground like the legs of some ancient beast.
And clutched within its trunk, wrapped tight by warped wood and curling vines, was a child.
Or what once was.
Small. Frail. Limbs limp, like a broken doll. Only their face was visible, pressed outward through a gap in the bark—eyes wide open, glassy, unblinking. Not crying. Not screaming.
Just… watching.
The tree carried them like a coffin on legs. Like a trophy. Like prey.
It moved slowly, rhythmically, without care—dragging shadow with each step, staining the dream.
Then the child blinked.
Just once.
And every leaf on the tree screamed.
Soundless. Piercing. Inside my skull.
Flames.
Unrelenting. Towering. Alive.
The dream bled again—this time into red and gold, into smoke that choked even thought.
Before me, a kingdom burned.
A whole city swallowed by fire. Its walls, once proud and white, now melted and weeping. Towers collapsed like paper set ablaze. Streets cracked open, pouring ash instead of blood.
I saw people—too many to count—running, screaming, falling. Some turned to flame before they could flee. Others simply vanished in the smoke.
The sky wasn't black.
It was burning too.
Even the heavens had caught fire.
A castle sat at the heart of it all, half-dissolved, yet defiant. Its flags melted mid-wave. I could almost hear a hymn—faint, tragic, desperate—as if the stones themselves were praying for salvation.
Then a roar tore through it all.
I woke up gasping.
My chest heaved like I'd been running for miles. Sweat clung to my skin, soaking my shirt, pooling along my spine. The sheets twisted around me like vines. My hands trembled.
I sat up slowly, like any sudden move might make the dream crawl back out of the dark and pull me under again.
"God," I whispered, pressing my palm to my chest. My heartbeat was racing. "What the hell was that…"
It hadn't felt like a dream.
It had felt real.
Too real. The kind that leaves behind a taste. A smell. That sits in your bones like a memory you weren't supposed to have.
The green-eyed boy. The bleeding buck. The walking black tree. And that burning kingdom—those screaming voices, that roar—
God.
That roar.
Just remembering it made something cold slither down my spine.
Then, my phone lit up.
Bzzt.
A soft vibration on the makeshift bedside table snapped me back.
> System Active.
"Hey," I said hoarsely, my voice raw. "I had… a dream. No. A vision. It didn't feel like something my brain made up. That wasn't mine."
> Tip: Correct. The dream was generated by your skill, Ever-Seeing Eyes.
I blinked at the screen. "Wait. That was from the skill?"
> Tip: Ever-Seeing Eyes perceives all things—past, present, possible futures, and hidden truths. Some manifest in dreams.
I stared at it, swallowing the dry lump in my throat.
"So what I saw... that might happen?"
> Tip: There is a possibility. That is why you were shown.
I leaned back against the wall, heart still hammering, the images burning in my head like afterimages from staring too long at the sun.
"Great," I muttered. "First week as a god, and I'm already getting prophecy nightmares."
I dragged a hand down my face, wiping sweat and fear in one go.
I didn't know what all of it meant—but I knew one thing.
Whatever that dream was…
It wasn't a warning.
It was a promise.
I stared at the glowing screen, the faint hum of the system's presence filling the silence.
"What did it mean?" I asked quietly. "The dream. What was that supposed to show me?"
> Tip: It is something you must know.
"That's not helpful," I snapped, running a hand through my damp hair. "That could mean anything. A prophecy? A threat? A freaking nature documentary with symbolism?! Come on, give me something."
> Tip: No further data available.
I blinked. "What? What do you mean no data? You've been giving me creepy voice-of-God narration all week and now you're telling me you don't know?"
> Tip: Divine powers are unique and not fully understood. This unit does not possess complete information on all potential outcomes of Ever-Seeing Eyes.
"So you don't know," I said slowly, staring at the screen in disbelief. "You gave me this power, and you don't even know what it does?"
> Tip: Affirmative.
"Wonderful." I threw my head back against the pillow with a groan. "I'm walking around with a cheat code for a brain and no instruction manual. Fantastic. Truly. This is going great."
The system said nothing. Just hovered. Calm. Unbothered.
I closed my eyes.
The green eyes. The bleeding buck. That cursed tree. A kingdom burning to ash.
And none of it made sense.
But apparently, it was mine to understand.
Eventually. Maybe. Hopefully.
Someday.
I sighed. "Okay. Fine. Be cryptic. I'll figure it out."
> Tip: That is the correct path.
"Don't patronize me," I muttered, rolling over.
And still, sleep wouldn't come.
5:03 a.m.
I stared at the glowing screen of my phone, still lying on my side. The light pierced the dark like a judgmental stare. Too early for anyone sane to be awake. But sleep wouldn't come.
My shirt clung to me, damp with sweat. My mind refused to let go of the dream—if I could even call it that. It felt more like a prophecy I accidentally subscribed to.
With a groan, I dragged myself up from the bed, limbs heavy with confusion and a stubborn lack of caffeine. I rubbed my face, shuffled to the bathroom, and turned on the shower.
Hot water hit me like a reset button. My eyes stayed closed, head bowed under the stream as images flickered across my thoughts like scenes from a movie I didn't understand.
"Who was that boy?" I murmured, water trailing down my face. "Green eyes… He sounded desperate. Determined. Was he calling me?"
I thought about the way his voice cracked when he said, Save my mother. The way his body was hidden, but his eyes—those were clear.
"Is he the hero I'm supposed to find?" I muttered.
Then the buck. Massive. Majestic. Bleeding. "What the hell was that? Some tragic fantasy animal version of Pegasus?"
I snorted softly and shook my head. Steam fogged the mirror as I stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel. "Or maybe a warning."
In the kitchen, I cracked an egg into a pan, still deep in thought. The sizzle made me feel faintly like a functioning adult, but the way my hands moved was automatic.
"And the tree," I whispered. "That monstrous… thing. It was walking. A child stuck inside it like—what? A prisoner? A sacrifice? And that kingdom in flames…"
The egg bubbled. I flipped it with more force than necessary.
I slumped onto the barstool, staring at my plate like it held answers. It didn't.
"Am I supposed to save all of that?" I asked no one. "Because I just got promoted to 'god' last week and I haven't even figured out how taxes work."
The silence answered me.
I sighed and took a bite of toast, my jaw tightening. "It's too much. All of it. I haven't even found one hero, and now I'm dreaming about collapsing kingdoms and magical cryptid stags."
My phone buzzed softly on the counter.
No new messages. No divine wisdom. Just the time.
5:41 a.m.
I had a whole world waiting for me. And no idea what the hell I was doing.
"Let's survive the day first," I muttered, finishing my coffee. "And maybe, just maybe, not get burned alive in someone else's apocalypse."
I returned to my room, still holding my half-empty mug like it might bless me with wisdom if I stared into it hard enough. No such luck.
I sat on the edge of the bed, the pillow still dented from where I thrashed around in dream-fueled confusion. The phone floated beside me like a bored assistant waiting for instructions.
"Okay," I muttered, cracking my neck. "Let's focus."
I opened the virtual notepad on the phone. A crisp new document titled: Divine Business Plan.
Step one was simple. Or at least, it looked simple when I typed it out:
Step 1: Open a humble merchant stall.
Objective: Use said stall to meet people. Observe. Judge. Use my all-seeing stalker eyes to assess hero potential.
I tapped the screen. "Basically, I become the fantasy version of a recruiter-slash-store clerk. Should be easy. Right?"
> Tip: You are well-equipped for this mission. Initiating commercial interface may increase exposure to potential candidates.
"I know that," I said, sighing. "But it still feels like I'm about to run a lemonade stand for fate."
I flopped back onto the bed, letting the mug rest on my chest. "Alright. Next—products."
I glanced at my closet, but I already knew. I'd decided this last night after nearly sleepwalking into the fridge.
"Snacks," I declared. "Cheap, sugary, calorie-loaded snacks. Biscuits. Chocolates. Sweets. The things I definitely should not be eating at 2 a.m."
I sat up and pointed dramatically at the phone. "Listen, if someone handed me a KitKat in a medieval setting, I'd name my firstborn after them. Snacks are king."
> Tip: Food-based trade will provide quick customer interest and repeat interaction. Inventory transfer from your world to Elysia is enabled. Reverse transfer remains disabled.
I groaned and slumped back again. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I can't bring Elysian gold here or conjure iPhones out of air. Trust me, I tried. Just once. Out of curiosity."
> Tip: Violations of dimensional economic flow may result in destabilization of localized divine equilibrium.
I narrowed my eyes. "That sounded made-up and vaguely threatening."
> Tip: Correct.
I sighed again and rubbed my face. "Fine. I'll be a snack merchant. With a destiny radar and the ability to cosplay my way through royal courts. What could possibly go wrong?"
The fridge was stocked. The dream was still lingering. And the day hadn't even begun yet.
I'd prepare to sell cosmic-level sugar highs to unsuspecting villagers.
God of Revelation. Hero hunter. Snack dealer.
Yeah. That's definitely going on my résumé.