The air itself trembled. The ruins of the ancient battlefield stretched endlessly around Arlen, frost glinting against shattered stone and fractured monuments. The world felt alive, yet every step he took pressed him deeper into a reality that was no longer his own. Seven fragments pulsed faintly within him, each a thread of authority, memory, and ancient dominion. They were not yet awake, not fully, but together they formed a resonance that tugged at the very fabric of existence.
Arlen's breath came in shallow gasps, fogging in the freezing air. His veins glowed faintly, the frost and lightning within him reacting to the fragments' stirring. The hum of authority reverberated through the ruins, a low, resonant vibration that made the stones themselves seem to hum in response. This was not merely power; it was existence reaching out, a whisper of a god who had slept for eons.
Lira moved beside him, her eyes wide with awe and apprehension. She could sense it too — the raw, unshaped potential that pulsed through the air. "Arlen… something's happening. I… I can feel it everywhere," she said softly, voice trembling. Her hand brushed against his arm instinctively, grounding him in the chaos that was forming.
Arlen nodded, sweat forming along his brow despite the cold. "It's… overwhelming. Not just fragments anymore… something else is here. Something… watching."
The ground quaked beneath them, subtle at first, then violently. Frost spiraled into intricate patterns across the ruins, twisting unnaturally as if reality itself obeyed the fragments' stirring. Lightning arced unpredictably, following no law of physics but an instinct born from fragments older than memory. Arlen's chest tightened as he realized: the fragments were converging. They were beginning to communicate in ways he could feel but not yet understand.
Seven fragments… one vessel… awakening potential…
The hum became a roar. Memories assaulted him, flashes of dominion, cities built and destroyed, armies commanded, and civilizations guided with authority older than any living being could comprehend. Pain shot through his skull, yet it was purposeful, as though the fragments were teaching him to bear the weight of godhood in increments, one shard at a time.
Suddenly, a blinding light erupted from within him. The fragments had synchronized partially, their resonance breaking free from the confines of his body. Frost and lightning spiraled outward, illuminating the ruins with an otherworldly glow. He could see visions imprinted in the light: the God, colossal and slumbering, its form stretching across the cosmos, one eye opening briefly to acknowledge him.
Arlen stumbled backward, gripping his chest. The fragments pulsed violently now, almost screaming in unison. He could feel authority bleeding into him, but it was incomplete — a fraction of the sleeping God's dominion. He was not yet the God. He was not omnipotent. But he had a taste, and that taste was enough to shatter the mind of any ordinary mortal.
Lira gasped beside him. "Arlen… look!" She pointed toward the center of the ruins, where a colossal distortion shimmered, a tear in reality as though space itself had folded. In that shimmer, a gigantic, ethereal eye blinked slowly, piercing through dimensions, focused entirely on him. It was the sleeping God, not fully awake, yet fully aware.
Arlen's vision blurred as he fell to one knee. "I… I can feel… everything…" His voice was barely audible, carried away by the roaring energy of the fragments. Frost spiraled around his arms, lightning arced between the stones, and the very ground beneath them cracked and heaved under the strain of the fragments' resonance.
The first fragment, still partially anchored, pulsed with clarity, feeding him a surge of authority. The second fragment responded, a melodic vibration intertwining with the first. One by one, the seven minor fragments aligned briefly, their collective presence pressing into him like a tidal wave of existence. Memories, power, and authority cascaded over him — the weight of his past lives, his past dominions, and the responsibility of being a vessel.
Yet it was not enough. The God's eye did not fully awaken. It lingered, observing, testing, measuring. Arlen felt the fragments quiver under that gaze, aware of the immense entity watching from the void.
This is only a fraction… seven fragments are nothing… and that terrifies me.
Pain exploded in his head, sharp and consuming. He fell to the ground, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. The fragments screamed, not in sound, but in raw vibration that pressed against his very bones. Lira rushed to him, her hands trembling as she tried to support him. "Arlen! Don't collapse! You have to hold on!"
He lifted a trembling hand toward her, frost forming on his fingers, lightning sparking faintly. "I… I can't… fully control it yet… but… I can feel… the fragments… the fragments are mine… I am… the vessel…"
The shards of authority pulsed together one last time, flooding him with flashes of memory and glimpses of the sleeping God's dominion. Cities rose and fell, armies marched, laws were enforced and broken — all through the perspective of a god long slumbering. The experience was intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure. Arlen's body glowed like a living conduit, frost and lightning intertwining into fractal patterns that reached across the battlefield, touching every shard of ruin.
The eye of the God blinked once more. It was a blink of judgment, not hostility — a reminder that Arlen was nothing more than a fragment vessel, a temporary anchor for the sleeping divinity's power. And yet, within that blink, he understood the terrifying potential: with all fragments aligned, even partially, he could wield authority capable of reshaping existence.
Lira grasped his arm firmly. "Arlen… you're alive… I can feel the fragments! They're… harmonizing! You're… incredible!"
He met her gaze, sweat, frost, and blood mingling on his face. "I… I don't even know what I am anymore… but the fragments… they're pieces of something far greater. I… I felt it… I felt the God's eye… watching… testing… judging… and I survived."
The wind howled, carrying echoes of battles past and whispers of authority. Arlen stood shakily, veins pulsing with faint light, frost spiraling along his arms, lightning dancing unpredictably in response to the fragments' resonance. He realized something crucial — the first seven fragments were merely the beginning. This was not raw strength, only control potential, and the true God remained asleep, beyond his reach.
Seven fragments were nothing… and that terrified him.
For a long moment, the world seemed to freeze. The ruins shimmered with frost and electricity, the fragments pulsed within him like a heartbeat, and the sleeping God's eye lingered in the void, unblinking yet present. Arlen understood, in that frozen moment, the magnitude of what he had become: a vessel, a conduit, a bridge between existence and divinity.
Lira stepped closer, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear. "Arlen… what happens now? Are you… the God?"
He shook his head slowly, a faint, pained smile forming on his lips. "No… not yet… just a vessel… a fragment holder… a bridge. But… if I survive… if I endure… I can… I can learn to wield… more."
Lightning arced wildly around him, frost spiraled in elegant patterns, and the fragments hummed in resonance like a living orchestra. The sleeping God's eye, vast and ancient, blinked once more, as if sealing this moment in memory.
Seven fragments were aligned… enough to terrify even me… but this is only the beginning.
And with that, the ruins fell silent. Frost and lightning faded, the fragments pulsed quietly within him, and Arlen realized the truth: he had glimpsed authority far beyond his comprehension, survived its weight, and now stood on the threshold of something far greater.