A girl with sleepy eyes sat in the corner of the room, complete disinterest written all over her face. Without even looking up, she spoke absentmindedly.
"Don't look at me. I haven't said anything in the past two days."
Logan ignored her comment and continued.
"Instead, we should be grateful Azrael's force wasn't completely wasted. He revived just like she said he would. And we all know how difficult it is to replicate such a feat."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"We still have five years. Before we leave, we can train him to be among those who stay behind to defend our world from First World threats."
Standing beside me, Doctor Noah gently placed his palm against my cheek and leaned closer.
"Don't get too encouraged by everything he says, kid," he whispered. "Do you know why he said 'wasn't completely wasted'?"
He asked the question rhetorically. I simply shook my head in confusion.
"It's because," he continued softly, "deep down, he knows it was mostly wasted."
Dr. Noah slowly caressed my face with a fatherly expression. He smiled warmly, as if he had just said something comforting, then shook his head while looking at me with quiet pity.
Without turning directly toward the person standing in the most isolated area of the room, hands clasped behind him as he faced the wall, Logan asked,
"Tommy, you're the best of us. Your input is highly needed. Why aren't you saying anything?"
I heard a long sigh come from Tommy as he quietly continued staring at the blank, smooth wall. He was extremely athletic, easily over seven feet tall—the tallest person in the room.
"Believe me, Logan, I might not be as outspoken or positive as you, but I am as—if not more—overwhelmed as everyone else in this room."
He finally looked back at me. His face wasn't as cold or ruthless as I had imagined when I first heard his voice. He was Caucasian, with long blonde hair, and wore a graceful, easy-going smile.
"I'm Tommy. According to the potential envoy rankings, I'm the best potential envoy of this generation—"
"Ugh, enough with the unnecessary modesty! Just say it: you're the first-ranked envoy in this world. The one most likely to survive the Third World."
Tommy turned toward the one who had interrupted him.
"Believe me, Ralph, I'm not in the mood for your unnecessary flattery."
He turned back to me and continued.
"Like I said, kid, I'm a good potential envoy. We were all chosen at different points in our lives. According to the board, we were selected because we are the most capable humans of this generation. No one here was born average—we are the pinnacle of what humans can produce biologically. Most of our parents are renowned athletes, geniuses, or UAC fighters.
"You, on the other hand, are not supposed to be here. You are, by comparison, as average as an average person can get. Some of your qualities are even below average."
Tommy palmed his face tiredly and whispered to himself, exhausted. A few seconds later, he looked down at me and added,
"You'll be trained by some of the trainers we have around. I would have personally assigned one of us to guide you on your first steps, but the top five potential envoys have already been chosen and are being prepared for their quest to the Third World. The other five are desperately trying to secure a spot in the remaining two positions. Honestly, they're even busier than the top five because the competition has been fierce recently.
"So that leaves the trainers. You'll be left with them. Ask me questions—I'll answer any way I can. Knowing Dr. Noah, I doubt he informed you of much."
With a stupefied expression, Dr. Noah—still standing beside me—exclaimed as if wrongly accused.
"What! I told him everything he needs to know!"
Tommy ignored him, attentively observing me as if waiting for an answer.
"Uh… yes, I do have questions."
"Go on."
"You called yourself a potential envoy. What does that mean? Why were the best humans brought together in one place? Logan mentioned First World threats. What are they? Where are you all leaving to in five years? You call me a kid, but you don't look much older than I am. Why? And who was the person of importance that prevented me from dying?"
"A potential envoy is a person whose future or expected duty is to represent his or her world in other worlds. Yes, according to Azrael, there are seven worlds and seven major Gods. Each of these Gods harbored hatred against one another at some point in their eternal existence. Unfortunately for us, 295 years ago, they decided to end everything."
Tommy bent his knees and squatted beside me.
"Like I said, there are seven worlds, and according to Azrael, each world was favored and protected by the Gods. But not all worlds received the same level of protection. Some worlds were more favored than others. We are the Second World. The protection and favor given to each world depends on its proximity to the cosmos.
"Thousands of light-years above us lies the First World—the most beloved by the Gods. Beneath it lies our world, followed by five other worlds. The protection from the Gods made our world highly habitable compared to the Third World. The Third World has it easier than the Fourth, and so on, down to the Seventh.
"The Gods completely abandoned all worlds 295 years ago. However, their influence remains strong enough that we still benefit from it today. That doesn't mean the influence isn't depleting—it is, but only beings of great power can notice it. Do you doubt anything I've said?"
"Usually, I would. But I just came back to life. The memories of my body being blown and battered are clear enough for me to believe everything you've said."
A slight smile appeared on Tommy's face.
"Good. Believing makes things easier."
He readjusted himself, stopping his squat and sitting cross-legged beside me, palms resting on his knees. Even seated, I realized that if I stood now, I would barely be taller than him. I wouldn't call him a giant, but his height was undeniably domineering.
"Within the next 300 to 500 years, the Gods will go to war. They know that when this war ends, only one God will remain. For the sake of balance, they agreed that new Gods would emerge after their deaths. The heavenly venerables, despite their limitless power, cannot become Gods because they did not originate from the same source. We, however, were created in the image of the Gods. Embedded within intelligent beings of all worlds lies the potential to become a God. According to Azrael's scrolls, the Gods initially intended to select their successors from the Seventh World.