The divine realm wasn't built for mortals. It was a place of eternal brilliance and casual cruelty, where gods waltzed through galaxies like dancers at a ball, and beauty was a weapon sharpened by eternity. Every corner shimmered with impossible colors, the skies blooming with floating palaces and mirror lakes that defied gravity. Even the air tasted like nectar, intoxicating and fake.
It was paradise.
Unless you didn't belong there.
Kaito Ren knew this the moment he arrived.
He stood barefoot in the middle of a marble courtyard the size of a continent, surrounded by beings that shimmered like stars made flesh. Wings. Horns. Auras that bent reality. They didn't walk—they floated, hovered, moved with purpose that made him feel like a bug on a banquet table.
And at the center, sprawled across a chaise of roses that never wilted, was Goddess Lyria.
Her beauty hurt to look at. Literally. The longer he stared, the more his head ached, like his mortal mind couldn't comprehend her perfection. Silver hair that drifted in slow waves. Eyes of shifting gold. Skin that sparkled like starlight dipped in honey. Her laugh rang like a bell that caused flowers to bloom—and explode.
And right now, she was laughing at him.
"Haha! Look at his face! Mortals are always so adorably confused when they realize they're not heroes," she purred.
The crowd of minor deities, demigods, and cosmic freeloaders roared with amusement.
Kaito's hands were shaking. He had no idea how long he'd been here. Days? Weeks? Time was strange in the divine realm. But he remembered the summoning clearly.
He'd been walking home after work, late again, carrying two discount bowls of ramen and a pack of instant pudding. A flash of light, a roar of divine energy, and then—her. Lyria.
She told him he was chosen. Special. Called by the gods.
He believed her.
Idiot.
The Games Begin
"Come now, Kaito. Let's play a new game," Lyria sang. She raised a dainty hand and snapped her fingers.
The arena changed instantly. The lush courtyard shattered into smoke. Now, Kaito stood on a floating platform of glass, suspended above a stormy void. Dozens of eyes opened in the darkness below. The audience floated nearby, sipping drinks and placing bets.
A spear materialized in his hands—too heavy. His knees buckled.
"This one's called 'Dance of the Unbroken.' The rules are simple: keep moving. If you stop, the platform shatters. If you fall, you lose. Entertain me, little toy."
Kaito didn't move.
Lyria smiled without warmth. "Begin."
The platform lurched. Lightning cracked in the void. Music started—jarring, fast, rhythmic. The platform tilted violently.
Kaito ran.
He had no choice.
His bare feet slipped on the glass. The spear dragged him. Every second, the platform shifted, spun, split apart into smaller tiles he had to jump across. The music sped up. The crowd cheered, laughing harder when he tripped, cursed, nearly plunged into the pit.
He didn't know how long he ran. Minutes? Hours?
Eventually, he collapsed. Chest heaving. Legs trembling.
"I—I can't…"
The platform cracked beneath him.
Lyria's voice echoed like a blade. "Then fall."
He forced himself up. Moved again. Not because he wanted to—but because he was afraid of what came after "fall."
The Days That Followed
The divine realm didn't sleep. Neither did Kaito. At least, not properly.
When he wasn't running, he was dancing. Fighting summoned beasts. Swimming through acid rivers. Solving puzzles with traps that erased memories if he failed. The games changed daily—no, hourly. And always, Lyria watched, sipping wine, half-smiling like a bored cat watching a dying mouse.
She never lifted a finger. She never needed to.
Sometimes she appeared beside him just to whisper things. Cruel, strange things.
"I once made a man swallow stars until he begged me to forget what light was."
"Do you think pain makes you special?"
"You're cute when you cry."
And the worst part?
Kaito began to believe her.
A Moment of Kindness?
One evening—if it could be called that—Lyria summoned him to her throne without warning. The sky above was a violet storm, divine lightning flickering in patterns he didn't understand.
Kaito knelt. Automatically. His body hurt too much to stand properly.
Lyria offered him fruit. A single glowing peach.
He eyed it suspiciously. "Why?"
"Because I want to," she said with an innocent smile.
He didn't eat.
She sighed. "You're learning. Good. That makes this more fun."
She rose from her throne and circled him slowly. Her bare feet made no sound. Her presence made his skin feel like it was blistering, but he stayed still.
"You know, I summoned many before you. Warriors. Kings. Virgins. Fools." She leaned down and whispered, "But none of them lasted this long. You're…different."
"Lucky me," Kaito rasped.
She laughed. "Oh, don't flatter yourself. You're still garbage. You just haven't broken yet. And that? That's interesting."
He swallowed hard.
Then she leaned in. Her breath tickled his ear.
"Break for me."
Kaito didn't reply. He just looked at her.
And for the first time—just for a second—she looked…surprised.
Then annoyed.
She turned away. "I'm bored."
The Final Game
The next challenge wasn't flashy. No illusions. No games.
Just a pit.
A bottomless abyss in the middle of her palace, rimmed with thorns made of shattered starlight. The other gods gathered silently. There was no laughter. No cheering.
Lyria floated above the pit like a divine spider.
"This is where toys go when they stop amusing me," she said.
Kaito stood before her, swaying slightly. Blood dried on his lip. One eye swollen shut. The clothes they'd given him—a crude tunic and shorts—were scorched and torn.
He didn't speak.
"You lasted longer than most," she continued. "But you stopped being funny."
"I'm not your toy," he said hoarsely.
Lyria blinked. Then giggled. "Oh, sweetie. You were never anything else."
The pit roared.
Then, with a gesture as casual as swatting a bug, she flicked her fingers.
And Kaito fell.
Falling Into Nowhere
He didn't scream.
Not at first.
There was no wind. No sense of direction. Just falling—endless, formless, impossible. Stars flashed past him. Planets blinked in and out of existence. Light and dark swallowed him over and over.
And through it all—he felt her power. Still clinging to him. Lyria's divine essence, like poison, like perfume, like a brand burned into his soul.
Then the pain hit.
It wasn't physical. Not entirely. It was spiritual—like his existence was unraveling, fiber by fiber.
But something strange happened.
He didn't die.
He didn't vanish.
Instead—his soul began to adapt.
Crash Landing
The fall ended with a bone-jarring thud.
Kaito slammed into ground. Not marble. Not void. Earth. Real, damp, moss-covered stone. He gasped as the impact echoed through his spine. Then he lay still.
He was alive.
Somehow.
The sky above was wrong. Gray, swirling, neither night nor day. Floating rocks hovered silently. Trees grew sideways. The air buzzed with the static of forgotten prayers.
This was Limbo.
The space between realms. Where things lost by gods eventually ended up.
Kaito groaned. Every muscle screamed. His body was steaming. A faint sigil glowed on his chest—the mark of Lyria. It pulsed, then faded.
He coughed. Blood. Stars. Something that might've been divine bile.
Then, a whisper.
"Adaptation Core… initializing…"
"W-what…"
"Divine imprint corrupted… Essence warped… Compatibility unknown… Installing prototype…"
He convulsed. Light burst from his fingertips. His back arched. His eyes glowed briefly.
Then it stopped.
Silence.
Kaito lay there, twitching.
Then, laughter.
His own.
Raw. Hollow. Disbelieving.
"I lived," he whispered. "You threw me away… and I lived."
Day Zero
He wandered.
There was no food. No people. No exit. But the realm fed him anyway—through osmosis, through mystery. The divine energy left in him sustained him, mutating him.
He no longer bled.
He no longer aged.
He felt… different.
A fallen statue whispered riddles as he passed. The air shimmered around his skin. A shadow creature attacked him once—he broke its spine with a punch he didn't know he had.
He started training.
Out of spite. Out of boredom. Out of need.
And the whispers came back.
"You were her toy… Now you're something worse."
"Prototype confirmed: Adaptive Vessel."
"Warning: potential for divine disruption detected."
Kaito smirked.
"Good."
One Final Gift
At the heart of Limbo, buried in the roots of a dying star tree, Kaito found it:
A fragment of Lyria's throne. A jagged piece of divine crystal, still humming with her essence.
He held it up.
"Let's see what happens when your power isn't in your control."
He crushed it.
Raw divinity surged through him.
For a second—just one—he saw her face again. Lyria. Sitting on her throne, eyes narrowing.
She felt it.
He smiled.
The First Step
Kaito looked up at the swirling sky.
No more games.
No more running.
No more being the punchline to someone else's divine joke.
"I'm coming back," he whispered. "And next time… I'm the one with the rules."
The realm shivered.
The gods didn't know it yet.
But their favorite toy had just become a threat.
[End of Chapter 1 –