Light shimmered around Dai, warm and weightless, pulling him gently out of the world he knew. For a heartbeat, he felt Alice's hand in his—solid, real—and then the city, the rooftop, even the night itself faded away.
He landed softly in a place that was everywhere and nowhere at once. The air was thick with golden mist, swirling with fragments of memory and possibility. The ground beneath his feet felt like glass and water and sky, all at once. Dai's senses stretched, overwhelmed by the sheer presence of it all.
He turned, and Alice was right there beside him, her eyes wide with awe and confusion. She squeezed his hand, grounding him. Ben appeared at their feet, ears perked, tail still.
They were alone—just the three of them—until a presence radiating calm and gentle authority emerged from the mist. The goddess—her form shifting and luminous, never fully visible, but unmistakably there—watched them with a serene, knowing smile. Her eyes, or perhaps the idea of her eyes, lingered on Dai and Alice, as if she'd expected this all along.
For a moment, no one spoke. The silence was filled with wonder, confusion, and the unspoken question: How?
But the goddess only smiled, her presence welcoming, as Dai, Alice, and Ben stood together—ready for whatever came next.
The golden mist shimmered around them, silent and strange. Dai's hand tightened around Alice's, Ben pressed close to their legs. The goddess stood before them, her form radiant but indistinct, her presence both comforting and overwhelming.
The goddess's voice trembled with apology. "I am so sorry, Dai. And Alice—especially to you. This was not supposed to happen. I never meant to pull you both here like this. Please, forgive me. I am so, so sorry."
Alice blinked, her voice small. "Why am I here? What's happening?"
"I wish I could explain everything now, but I cannot speak freely in this place," the goddess said, her light dimming with regret. "I need Dai's help, desperately, but I cannot tell you more here. I am sorry, Alice. I am sorry, Dai. Please forgive me."
Dai frowned, confusion and frustration mixing in his voice. "Then why bring us here at all? Why call us if you can't talk?"
The goddess's form flickered, her apology even more earnest. "I know it makes no sense. I am sorry. But I needed to see you both, to warn you. Dai, I need you to come to me—not by summon, but by your own power. That means you will have to leave Alice behind for a while. You cannot travel together this time. But the choice is always yours."
Alice's grip tightened on Dai's hand. "Wait, you want Dai to leave? To go somewhere you can't bring him back from?"
The goddess nodded, her light shimmering with sorrow. "Yes. I am sorry, Alice. I wish it were different. But this is the only way. Dai, you must decide. If you choose to help, you must come to me on your own."
Dai's mind raced. "How? How am I supposed to do that?"
The goddess lifted her hand, and Dai's status screen appeared before them—transformed, every line glowing with impossible potential, every limitation erased:
[STATUS SCREEN]
Name: Dai Hale ★★★★★★★
Telekinesis: Unlimited — Manipulate any number of objects, any mass, at any distance. Create force fields, flight, reshape matter, and perform simultaneous tasks without exhaustion.
Technokinesis: Unlimited — Instantly interface with all technology, synthesize and alter any material, command and create AI or networks at any scale, rewrite code or reality itself.
Teleportation: Unlimited — Teleport anywhere, across any distance, with anyone or anything. No cooldown, no restrictions. Dimensional traversal: cross realities, universes, or planes of existence at will.
Synergy: All abilities can be used together, infinitely, with perfect control and creativity. No recharge, no fatigue, no boundaries.
The goddess pointed to the last line under Teleportation, her voice gentle but urgent. "Dimensional traversal. Your powers have evolved beyond anything I could have imagined. You can cross the boundaries between realities now, Dai. But you must do it by your own will."
Dai stared at the words, then looked up. "Dimensional traversal? You mean… I can travel between worlds?"
"Yes," the goddess said softly. "I will send you a set of coordinates. They will not make sense to you, but if you trust them—if you trust me—you can use them to find me. If you decide to help."
Alice's eyes were wide, her voice trembling. "Will he be safe? Will he come back?"
The goddess's gaze softened. "I promise I will do everything I can. But the choice is Dai's. I am sorry, Alice. I am so, so sorry."
Dai looked at Alice, then at the goddess, the weight of the decision settling on his shoulders. The urgent quest text echoed in his mind, and for the first time, he understood what it truly meant.
The goddess's voice was gentle, but resolute. "I will send the coordinates soon. When you are ready, Dai—if you are willing—use them. And trust that you are not alone."
The golden mist swirled, and the vision began to fade, leaving Dai, Alice, and Ben standing together, hearts pounding, on the edge of a choice that would change everything.
After Dai, Alice, and Ben returned from their encounter with the goddess, the apartment felt quieter than usual. The golden mist and the goddess's apologetic words lingered in their minds, leaving a strange mix of awe and uncertainty in the air.
They sat together on the couch, Ben curled up at their feet. Steve's avatar flickered onto the living room screen, his tone softer than usual. "I monitored your vitals, Dai. That was… not a standard summoning."
Dai managed a tired smile. "Nothing about this is standard anymore, Steve."
Alice leaned into Dai's side, her hand finding his. "What do we do now?" she asked quietly.
Dai shook his head, staring at the ceiling. "I don't know. She needs my help, but I have to go to her on my own. And this time… I can't take you with me."
Alice was silent for a long moment, then squeezed his hand. "Then let's not think about it tonight. Let's just… be here. Together."
Steve chimed in, "A day of rest is statistically proven to improve decision-making and emotional resilience. I recommend pancakes for breakfast."
Dai laughed, the sound easing some of the tension in his chest. "You heard the AI. Tomorrow is just for us."
They talked late into the night—about memories, about what-ifs, about the strange, beautiful life they'd built together. Sometimes they were quiet, just holding each other, Ben's steady breathing a comfort at their feet. Eventually, exhaustion won out. Dai and Alice fell asleep side by side, the city quiet outside, the future uncertain but, for one more day, held at bay.
Tomorrow would be theirs—a day for laughter, for love, for goodbyes that didn't have to be spoken yet.
The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains as Dai and Alice woke side by side, Ben already sprawled at their feet. For a moment, the world outside felt impossibly far away.
They made pancakes together, laughing as Dai tried (and failed) to flip one without using his powers. Steve played their favorite playlist in the background, occasionally chiming in with dry commentary—"Dai, your pancake symmetry is improving by 12%"—and Alice rolled her eyes, tossing a blueberry at the nearest speaker.
They spent the day wandering the city hand in hand, visiting the little ramen shop where they'd shared so many memories, and the park where Ben chased after every squirrel and sunbeam. Alice challenged Dai to a race across the grass, and for once, he let her win. They sat beneath their favorite tree, sharing stories and dreams, sometimes talking, sometimes just holding each other in comfortable silence.
In the afternoon, they browsed a used bookstore, picking out a stack of manga and old paperbacks for Alice to read while Dai was away. Ben napped at their feet as they sipped coffee in a quiet corner, the hours slipping by unnoticed.
As dusk settled, they returned home and cooked dinner together—yakisoba, just like that first lesson. This time, Dai didn't cheat, and Alice teased him mercilessly for every uneven carrot slice. They ate by candlelight, Ben curled up nearby, Steve lowering his voice to a gentle hush.
Later, they curled up on the couch, watching old anime reruns, Alice's head on Dai's shoulder, Ben snoring softly between them. The city's lights twinkled outside, and for a while, there was nothing but warmth and the quiet certainty that, whatever came next, this day would always be theirs.
When sleep finally came, Dai held Alice close, whispering, "Thank you. For everything." Alice squeezed his hand, her voice barely above a whisper. "Come back to me."
And as the night deepened, Dai let himself drift, the memory of their day together a gentle shield against the unknown.
From the moment Dai woke up, he felt the weight of time pressing gently on his shoulders. Every detail seemed sharper, every laugh and touch more precious. He watched Alice flip pancakes, sunlight catching in her hair, and wondered how many mornings like this he'd taken for granted. He tried to memorize the way she smiled at his lopsided attempts, the way Ben's tail thumped against the kitchen floor, the way Steve's dry humor filled the apartment with a sense of home.
As they wandered the city, Dai found himself cataloging every sensation: the warmth of Alice's hand in his, the taste of their favorite ramen, the sound of Ben's paws skittering across the park grass. He let Alice win their race, not because he couldn't outrun her, but because he wanted to see her triumphant grin one more time. Under their favorite tree, he listened to her stories, letting her voice anchor him to the present, even as his thoughts drifted to the unknown that waited.
In the bookstore, Dai watched Alice browse the shelves, her brow furrowed in concentration, and felt a pang of longing. He wanted to freeze this moment, to bottle the comfort of her presence and carry it with him wherever he was going. He wondered if she sensed his worry, if she could feel the way his heart ached with every passing hour.
As dusk settled and they cooked dinner together, Dai's mind flickered between gratitude and regret. He was grateful for every second, every joke, every uneven carrot slice. But beneath it all, the urgent quest still pulsed at the edge of his thoughts—a silent reminder that this peace was only temporary.
That night, curled up on the couch with Alice and Ben, Dai let himself hope that he'd find his way back to this life. He whispered his thanks, his promises, his fears into the quiet, holding Alice close and wishing the night would never end.
He knew tomorrow would bring change. But for now, Dai let himself be fully present—cherishing the ordinary magic of a day spent with the people he loved most.
Dai had known, deep down, what his decision would be from the moment the goddess first appeared in his life. As he moved through that last day with Alice—her laughter in the kitchen, the warmth of her hand in his, Ben's happy bark echoing in the park—he felt the answer settle quietly in his heart.
He owed the goddess everything. She had given him a life beyond his wildest dreams: power, purpose, love, and the chance to become someone he'd always wished he could be. She had trusted him with miracles, and now, she was the one in need.
As the sun set and the city lights flickered on, Dai watched Alice reading on the couch, Ben curled up beside her. He memorized the scene, knowing it would carry him through whatever came next. He felt gratitude, and a bittersweet ache, but no regret.
He would go. He would answer the call, no matter the cost. It was never really a choice—not for someone who had been given so much. Dai squeezed Alice's hand, silently promising to return, and let the certainty of his decision fill him with quiet resolve.
He was ready to repay the goddess, to step into the unknown, and to protect the hope she had given him—no matter where it led.
Dai stood in the quiet of his apartment, the coordinates from the goddess burning in his mind like a secret code. This was nothing like a normal teleport—no simple blink from one place to another. He closed his eyes, Alice's arms wrapped tightly around him, Ben pressed against his leg, and focused on the impossible string of numbers and symbols the goddess had sent.
He felt the world slow, every heartbeat echoing with memory: Alice's laughter, Ben's bark, the warmth of home. He let it all fill him, anchoring him as he reached for the coordinates—not with his hands, but with his will, his very sense of self.
Reality began to ripple. The air shimmered, colors fracturing and folding in on themselves. Dai felt his body dissolve into light, his consciousness stretching, expanding, slipping between the cracks of the world. He saw flashes of other realities—skies of violet fire, cities made of crystal, endless fields of stars. The journey was dizzying, exhilarating, terrifying. He was everywhere and nowhere, a thought racing through the multiverse.
He held onto the coordinates, letting them guide him through the storm of existence. He felt the boundaries of reality bend, then break, as he pushed beyond everything he'd ever known. For a moment, he was pure possibility—limitless, unbound.
And then, with a rush like falling and flying at once, Dai emerged into a new world, the coordinates settling him gently at the edge of the unknown. He was breathless, changed, and utterly ready for whatever the goddess needed of him.
He looked back, just once, feeling Alice's love and Ben's loyalty echoing through every fiber of his being. Then he stepped forward, into the light, answering the call that had always been waiting for him.
As Dai stepped through the shimmering veil, the world transformed around them. The air itself seemed to hum with a gentle, celestial melody, and the sky was painted in hues no mortal eyes had ever seen—radiant golds, deep violets, and a soft, endless blue that stretched beyond imagination.
The realm was magnificent, a place where every detail spoke of divine artistry. Towering spires of crystal rose from the ground, refracting light into rainbows that danced across fields of silver grass. Rivers of pure energy flowed between the hills, their surfaces alive with swirling patterns that hinted at ancient wisdom.
All around, beings of light soared gracefully through the air. Their forms shimmered—sometimes appearing as winged silhouettes, sometimes as radiant orbs, each leaving trails of luminescence in their wake. They moved in harmonious patterns, weaving through the sky and filling the space with a sense of peace and awe.
At the heart of this realm stood a grand temple, its architecture both impossibly intricate and perfectly balanced. It seemed to pulse with life, as if the very stones were aware of Dai's presence.
And then, Dai saw her—the goddess.
She stood atop the temple steps, bathed in a gentle, golden glow. Her presence was both overwhelming and comforting, her beauty transcending all earthly standards. Her eyes held the wisdom of eternity, and her voice, when she spoke, resonated like the purest note in a symphony.
Her robes flowed like liquid light, shifting colors with every movement. Around her, the beings of light gathered, bowing in reverence. Dai felt a surge of emotion—wonder, humility, and a sense of belonging—as the goddess smiled, welcoming them to the realm that was hers to guide.
Dai followed the goddess through the crystalline halls of the temple, past archways draped in living light and gardens that seemed to bloom with every color ever imagined. The air was fragrant with the scent of celestial blossoms, and the gentle hum of distant music—played by the wind itself—filled the space with peace.
They emerged into a garden behind the temple, where silver-leafed trees arched overhead and rivers of light wound between beds of radiant flowers. Beings of light drifted above, their laughter like the ringing of tiny bells.
But as Dai turned to the goddess, he realized she was not quite what he'd expected.
She was radiant, yes—her hair a cascade of starlight, her eyes deep with ancient wisdom—but she was also… fidgeting. Her robe caught on a low branch, and she stumbled, nearly tumbling into a bed of glowing lilies.
"Ah—oops! Sorry, sorry!" she laughed, cheeks flushing with a very mortal embarrassment. "I'm still getting used to these robes. They're supposed to look all regal, but honestly, I trip over them at least twice a day."
Dai caught her gently before she could fall, steadying her with a hand on her arm. "Are you alright?"
She grinned, brushing a strand of light from her face. "Yeah, just my pride. You'd think after a few centuries I'd have this whole 'celestial being' thing figured out, but… well, I'm kind of new at it. I was only promoted to goddess, like, a hundred years ago. Which is basically yesterday up here."
Dai couldn't help but smile. "You're not what I expected."
She rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Let me guess—glowing, mysterious, all-knowing? Sorry to disappoint. I'm still working on the 'all-knowing' part. Sometimes I forget where I put my own staff. And don't even get me started on the paperwork."
They walked together deeper into the garden, Dai still supporting her as she limped slightly, favoring her ankle.
"Thank you," she said softly, glancing up at him. "Most people just bow and stare. It's nice to have someone treat me like… well, like a person. Even if I am technically a goddess now."
Dai looked around at the impossible beauty of the garden, the beings of light swirling overhead, and then back at the goddess—her smile a little crooked, her robe slightly askew.
"I think," he said, "that's what makes you special. You're not just a goddess. You're… you."
She blushed, then laughed again—a sound that seemed to make the flowers bloom brighter. "Careful, Dai. Flattery like that might get you promoted to minor deity."
They sat together on a bench beneath a tree of silver blossoms, the garden glowing around them. For the first time, Dai felt not just awe, but a sense of kinship—a reminder that even in the realm of the gods, everyone is still learning, still growing, still a little bit human at heart.
The garden's beauty seemed to hush as the goddess's laughter faded. She glanced up at the swirling beings of light, her expression turning thoughtful—almost troubled.
Dai noticed the change. "Is something wrong?"
She nodded, her smile slipping away. "Yes. That's why I needed you here, Dai." She hesitated, fidgeting with the sleeve of her robe. "I wish I could say this was just a social call, but… something is happening. Something terrible."
Dai helped her to a bench beneath a tree of silver blossoms, the petals glowing softly in the twilight. The goddess took a deep breath, her youthful face suddenly older with worry.
"It started in your world," she said quietly. "That darkness you fought—the corruption, the way it twisted machines and people, the way it tried to erase hope. I thought it was an isolated wound. But now…" She looked out over the garden, her voice trembling. "Now it's spreading. I can feel it in almost every realm I watch over. Shadows in places that should be safe. Miracles turning to nightmares. Something is manipulating the very fabric of these worlds, corrupting them from the inside out."
Dai's heart pounded. "Is it the same thing I fought? The shadow?"
The goddess nodded, her eyes shining with fear and frustration. "It's the same pattern. The same hunger. But it's… bigger now. Smarter. It's learning from every world it touches. I've tried to stop it, but I'm still new at this. I make mistakes. I'm not as strong as I should be, not yet." She looked down, her hands twisting in her lap. "I'm scared, Dai. I don't know how to fix this alone."
Dai reached out, steadying her. "You're not alone. I'm here. Tell me what you need."
She looked up, hope flickering in her eyes. "I need your help. Not just as a hero, but as someone who's seen the darkness and found a way through. I need you to help me save the realms—before the corruption spreads so far that even the gods can't stop it."
The garden seemed to hold its breath, the beings of light pausing in their flight as Dai and the goddess faced the truth together: the fate of countless worlds now rested in their hands.
The goddess's gaze grew serious as she looked at Dai, the silver blossoms above them shimmering in the gentle light.
"You'll need to travel from world to world," she said, her voice steady but tinged with worry. "In each place, the darkness is twisting reality—corrupting what should be beautiful, making miracles go wrong, turning hope into fear. Your task is to help each world heal, to bring things back to their true path. Sometimes that means restoring what was lost, sometimes it means helping people find hope again. Every world will be different."
She paused, then added, "But there's something you must understand, Dai. Every world has its own rules—its own logic, its own limits. Gravity, time, even what counts as possible or impossible… they're all different. And those rules won't change for you. Instead, you'll change for them."
Dai blinked, absorbing the weight of her words. "So my powers—?"
She nodded, a little sheepishly. "They'll transform each time. Sometimes you'll be stronger, sometimes you'll have new abilities, or even lose some you're used to. You might gain skills you never imagined, or face challenges you've never seen. But you won't be alone. We'll help you—myself, and the others who watch over the realms. We'll adjust your gifts to fit each world, and if you ever need guidance, you'll always have a way to reach us."
She offered a hopeful, if slightly nervous, smile. "Think of it as… a new adventure every time. You'll have to learn, adapt, and sometimes even start from scratch. But you're not just fighting the darkness—you're helping each world find its own light again."
The garden seemed to lean in, the beings of light pausing in their flight as Dai considered the path ahead—a journey across countless realities, each with its own mysteries, dangers, and hopes, and the fate of many worlds resting on his willingness to adapt, grow, and fight for the light.
Dai sat quietly for a moment, letting the enormity of the goddess's words settle over him. The garden's light shimmered on the silver petals at their feet, and the beings of light above seemed to pause, as if waiting for his answer.
He took a slow breath, then looked at the goddess—seeing not just her celestial glow, but the uncertainty and hope in her eyes.
"So… I'll be a traveler between worlds," Dai said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "A fixer, a healer, a… cosmic patch update, I guess." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "I never imagined I'd be anything like that. But if these worlds are hurting—if people are losing hope, like they almost did in mine—then I can't just walk away."
He glanced up at the swirling lights, then back at the goddess. "I won't lie. It's scary. Not knowing what I'll be able to do, or what I'll even be. But if you and the others can help me adapt—if my powers can change, or even if I have to start from scratch every time—I'll do it. I'll learn. I'll fight. I'll do whatever it takes to bring those worlds back to the light."
He offered the goddess a gentle, determined smile. "You said I wouldn't be alone. That's all I need to hear. I'll go wherever you send me, and I'll do my best—no matter what the rules are, or how strange things get. I promise."
The garden seemed to breathe again, the beings of light resuming their dance overhead. Dai squeezed the goddess's hand, feeling the weight of the task ahead—but also the quiet certainty that, together, they could face whatever darkness waited in the worlds beyond.
The garden shimmered with a gentle, golden twilight as Dai and the goddess stood together beneath the silver-blossomed trees. The weight of the coming journey pressed on Dai's shoulders, but he felt a quiet resolve settle in his heart.
He rose from the bench, glancing once more at the swirling beings of light above. "So this is it," he said softly. "The beginning of something bigger than either of us."
The goddess nodded, her eyes shining with hope and a touch of nervousness. "You're ready, Dai. More ready than you know. The first world is waiting—and so are the others. Remember, you won't be alone. We'll help you however we can. Your powers will change, adapt, even grow in ways you can't imagine. Trust yourself, and trust us."
As Dai stepped toward the edge of the garden, a sudden hush fell over the realm. The air grew thick with anticipation. From the far corners of the divine city, six new shadows approached—each one radiating a unique, awe-inspiring presence. They circled Dai, their forms shifting between light and color, their voices silent but powerful.
Dai felt a surge of energy, a warmth that settled deep in his soul. He realized, with a shiver of awe, that these were the other gods—watchers and guardians of realms beyond his own. Though they said nothing, Dai sensed their intent: a blessing, a promise, and a challenge all at once.
The goddess smiled, her voice gentle. "You feel them, don't you? The others. They're reaching out to you, offering their strength. You'll understand more soon. For now, take their blessing—and step forward."
Dai closed his eyes, letting the light and power of the gods wash over him. When he opened them again, the path to the first world shimmered before him—a doorway of possibility, glowing with the promise of new adventures and unknown dangers.
He turned back to the goddess, offering a grateful, determined smile. "I'll do my best. For you, for them, for every world that needs hope."
She nodded, pride and worry mingling in her gaze. "Go, Dai. And remember—you are never truly alone."
With a final breath, Dai stepped into the light, the blessings of seven gods at his back, and vanished into the unknown.