The words hit him like a physical blow, reverberating through his consciousness with the force of a thunderclap. A God?
Artham's breath caught in his throat, his pulse spiking as the revelation crashed over him like a tidal wave. The simple phrase splintered his thoughts into fragments of disbelief and terror. His vision blurred at the edges, the cosmic meadow spinning around him as he clutched his head, fingers digging into his scalp as if he could somehow anchor himself to sanity.
"A God?" he stammered, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. The weight of divine presence pressed down on him, crushing in its immensity. Every instinct screamed that he was in the presence of something vast and incomprehensible, something that could unmake him with a thought.
Am I dead? The question clawed at his mind with desperate urgency. Is this what happens when you die? Heaven? Hell? Some cosmic courtroom where souls are judged?
The voice returned, cutting through his spiraling panic with surgical precision. It carried the calm authority of something that had witnessed the birth and death of universes, that had shaped reality with its will alone.
"No, you are not dead," it answered, each word resonating with absolute certainty. "And you are not in heaven or hell. Only a part of your soul has been taken—specifically, the part that carried the dullness, the weight of your previous existence."
The explanation struck him like a blade between the ribs, leaving him gasping. A part of my soul? The concept was too vast, too impossible to comprehend. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white with tension as anger began to burn through the fear.
"What kind of madness is this?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with strain.
His heart hammered against his ribs like a caged bird desperate for escape. The notion of his soul being split—torn apart like pages from a sacred book—violated every understanding he had of existence itself. Yet somewhere beneath the storm of confusion, a traitorous memory stirred. He had chosen this, hadn't he? He had stood on that balcony and wished for something more, something beyond the suffocating monotony of his life.
I did this to myself.
The thought was both terrifying and liberating. He forced himself to breathe, to think, to analyze the situation with the sharp intellect that had always been his shield against the incomprehensible.
"What about the other half?" he asked, his voice tight with controlled desperation. "What happens to the part of my soul that remains on Earth?"
The idea of his life continuing without him—of some hollow version of himself stumbling through the motions of existence—sent ice crawling up his spine. Would his mother know? Would she sense that something fundamental had been torn away from her son?
A pause stretched between them, heavy with cosmic significance. When the voice spoke again, its tone carried the weight of immutable law.
"Do not be afraid," it said, though the words felt more like a command than comfort. "The part of your soul left on Earth will continue your life as if nothing has changed. It will live your ordinary existence, unaware of what has transpired here. Your memories, your identity, all will remain intact. It's a parallel existence—undisturbed by this new reality."
Artham's mind reeled. Parallel existence? The concept felt like trying to hold water in his hands—logically impossible, yet somehow undeniably real. His every instinct screamed to question, to doubt, to analyze this cosmic claim. But deep in his chest, where the hollowness had lived for so long, something whispered that his old life was already beyond his reach.
The realization should have terrified him. Instead, it sparked something he hadn't felt in years—curiosity. The driving force behind his genius, the hunger for knowledge that had always burned within him, began to stir like embers touched by wind.
"What is this place?" he asked, his tone shifting from accusatory to intrigued. "You called it a multidimensional nexus... what does that mean?"
The words tasted foreign on his tongue, like speaking in a language he'd never learned but somehow understood. The concept tugged at his mind, hinting at vast cosmologies and infinite possibilities.
"A multidimensional nexus is a rare phenomenon," the voice replied with the precision of a cosmic encyclopedia. "It is a convergence point where different dimensions touch, where the boundaries between realities become permeable. Only a select few have access to this place—and you are one of them."
Each word landed with the weight of destiny. Artham felt his pulse quicken, but this time it wasn't fear that gripped him—it was something far more dangerous. Hope.
"Your soul has been divided because you yearned for something more," the voice continued. "The part of you burdened by dissatisfaction, by the crushing monotony of your old life, remains on Earth. What stands here is the part of you that seeks adventure, that craves something beyond the ordinary. This is your chance to begin anew."
Begin anew. The phrase echoed in his mind like a prayer. Could he really leave behind the weight of expectations, the suffocating performance of being someone he wasn't? Could he finally, truly, start over?
A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, the first genuine expression of joy he'd felt in years. "So I get to choose my path?" he asked, his voice rising with exhilaration. "A world where I can live on my terms?"
"Yes," the voice said, but its tone grew serious, weighted with cosmic authority. "But you must listen closely. The choices you make here are critical. There are rules—guidelines you must follow. Pay attention to what I say, and do not interrupt until I have finished. This is crucial for your understanding."
The gravity in those words cut through his excitement like a blade. Artham straightened, squaring his shoulders as the full weight of the situation settled over him. This wasn't a game. This wasn't some adolescent fantasy. This was real, and the stakes were higher than anything he'd ever imagined.
"I'm listening," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos in his mind.
Silence fell like a heavy curtain, pregnant with possibility and danger. When the voice spoke again, each word carried the weight of cosmic law.
"Good. This nexus is not merely a place—it is a convergence of all possible realities. Here, you are unbound by the constraints of a single existence. You have the freedom to explore, to grow, to become something greater than you ever imagined. But with that freedom comes responsibility that would crush lesser souls."
Artham's pulse raced as the enormity of the revelation crashed over him. Infinite worlds. Infinite possibilities. But also—and this thought sent ice through his veins—infinite consequences.
"The choices you make here will ripple across dimensions," the voice continued, relentless in its cosmic judgment. "Every decision, every action, will shape not only your future but the futures of countless worlds. You will face trials that will test your resolve, your wisdom, your strength. And you will not face them alone."
The words painted pictures in his mind—vast landscapes filled with unimaginable creatures, challenges that would push him beyond his limits, adventures that would either forge him into something greater or destroy him utterly.
"There are others," the voice warned, its tone growing darker. "Beings, forces, entities that will seek to influence you, to sway your decisions for their own purposes. Be wary of them. Trust your instincts, but be prepared to question everything—including your own nature."
Artham's hands clenched into fists as the weight of the warning settled over him. The reality of this place—the power, the danger, the sheer scope of what he was being offered—pressed down on him like the weight of stars. But so did the allure of it. Finally, finally, he could leave behind the crushing monotony that had suffocated his spirit for so long.
"You are here because of your desire," the voice said, cutting through his thoughts with surgical precision. "Your wish upon that falling star. This is not a separate reality but a transitional space—a bridge between dimensions. You must choose your path wisely, for your decisions will ripple across realities like stones cast into infinite waters."
Artham looked up at the impossible sky, at the swirl of galaxies that painted stories in languages of light. His heart pounded with something he hadn't felt in years—not just hope, but purpose. Could this really be it? Could he finally escape the dull ache of his previous existence?
Maybe this is what I've been missing all along.
"Indeed," the voice said, and there was something almost fond in its tone, as if it had been reading his thoughts. "You understand now. The hunger, the emptiness, the desperate search for meaning—it has led you here."
Artham remained silent, sensing that this cosmic conversation was far from over. The voice seemed to know his every thought, his every desperate hope, but its presence didn't feel invasive. Instead, it felt like guidance, like a teacher leading him toward some greater understanding.
"I intend to transport you to another world," the voice continued, its tone shifting to something more businesslike. "A realm where individuals like you—those who have outgrown their original existence—are welcomed. But know this, and know it well: every boon has its price. Every gift demands payment. Are you curious to know what you must pay for the freedom you seek?"
The question hung in the air like a sword suspended by silk. Artham's heart skipped a beat, but curiosity burned brighter than fear. Of course there's a price. There was always a price. But what could be worth more than the chance to leave behind the hollow existence that had been slowly killing him?
"Absolutely," he replied, his voice steady despite the racing of his pulse. "I'm all ears."
The silence that followed was oppressive, cosmic in its weight. The very universe seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what came next. Each second stretched into infinity, tension coiling tighter in his chest as the weight of the moment pressed down on him. His hands trembled, though he barely noticed.
When the voice finally spoke, it was as if reality itself had shifted, the air around him warping with the gravity of revelation.
"The price is your soul."
The words hit him like a meteor strike, each syllable burning into his consciousness. My soul? The phrase clung to him like a death sentence, digging deeper with each heartbeat. His thoughts scattered like startled birds, his mind whirling in shock and disbelief.
His soul—the very essence of who he was, the core of his being, the spark that made him him. Was that what this cosmic entity demanded for his freedom?
His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst, each beat echoing in his ears like thunder. Fear crept into his mind with icy fingers, painting terrible possibilities. What did it mean to lose his soul? Would he cease to exist? Would he become some hollow puppet, dancing to the whims of a cosmic puppeteer?
But through the storm of terror, one thought burned brighter than the rest: Which part?
"Which part of my soul?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "The one that's here, or the one still on Earth?"
The voice returned, and now it carried the finality of a cosmic verdict.
"Both."
The ground seemed to tilt beneath his feet, the world spinning as the weight of that single word crashed over him. Both. His entire being—everything he was, everything he had ever been, everything he could ever become—was on the line.
A low hum filled the air, the sound of something vast and incomprehensible stirring in the depths of reality. He swallowed hard, trying to find his footing, but the enormity of it was suffocating.
And then, the voice spoke again, carrying the weight of eternal judgment.
"Now... make your choice."
The world went still.
Artham stood frozen in that moment, suspended between his old life and something unimaginably greater. His pulse hammered against his temples, and through the cosmic silence, one question echoed with terrifying clarity:
What have I done?
But even as fear clawed at his mind, even as the weight of divine judgment pressed down on him, a small part of him—the part that had always hungered for more, for meaning, for something beyond the suffocating ordinary—whispered a different question:
What am I about to become?