The world ended quietly.
No thunder.
No screams.
No divine trumpets or fire.
Just a suffocating, unnatural silence—so heavy it felt like the entire planet had been drained of breath.
Han Islat opened his eyes in the middle of a dead street.
Cold air pressed against his skin.
Dust drifted through stillness so absolute it felt wrong—like sound itself no longer existed.
He sat up slowly.
Buildings towered above him, cracked like ancient bones. Windows shattered. Roads split. Streetlights hung like corpses. Cars sat abandoned in perfect lines, doors open, engines dead, as if their owners had evaporated mid-step.
No footsteps.
No voices.
No wind.
Just silence.
Silence so deep it felt alive.
Han rubbed the side of his head. His fingers brushed dried blood—but there was no pain, no memory, no context.
Nothing.
"…Where… am I?"
His own voice sounded strange—too loud, too alone.
It felt like it didn't belong in this world anymore.
He stood, unsteady. His shadow stretched unnaturally long under the fractured streetlight. The sky above him—dark, starless—shivered with faint cracks of white-violet light, like a mirror someone had punched.
Something is watching me.
The thought wasn't fear—more like instinct, as old as breath.
Han turned.
Nothing.
Yet the silence pressed closer, as if the city were holding itself back from speaking.
He stepped forward—
ting… ting… ting…
A distant resonance, like glass being tapped by a cold fingertip.
It came from nowhere and everywhere.
Han froze.
The sound echoed again—slow, deliberate, patient.
ting… ting… ting…
"What… is that…?"
He followed it.
The street narrowed between twisted buildings. Shadows pooled unnaturally, refusing to disperse. A cold mist slithered along the ground as if crawling toward him.
The sound grew clearer. Louder.
Almost rhythmic.
But then—
It stopped.
Silence again.
A silence sharper than any scream.
Han exhaled shakily and lowered his gaze—
—onto a glowing circle etched beneath his feet.
He hadn't seen it earlier.
He didn't know when it appeared.
Blue-white lines carved themselves into the asphalt, forming a broken summoning array. Symbols flickered, half-erased, half-alive. They pulsed faintly, as if breathing.
Han staggered back.
The glow intensified.
"What the hell…?"
Light crawled up his legs, wrapping around him like ghostly chains.
A ringing filled his ears—metallic, celestial, mechanical.
Then a voice whispered:
"…Incomplete… Divinity detected…"
Han's breath hitched.
"Entity Name: Han Islat… Status: Undefined God…"
"Error. No domain."
"Error. No believers."
"Error. No creation myth."
"Error. No origin story."
Han's pulse pounded.
A god? Him?
That was impossible.
Insane.
The whispering continued, cold and emotionless:
"You are a god with no past."
"A god with no purpose."
"A god abandoned even by belief."
"Miracle output unavailable."
"DP Balance: 0."
"Warning: At zero DP, collapse imminent."
"What does that mean?!"
The circle stopped glowing.
Silence returned.
But not the same silence as before.
This one felt heavier.
As if the city… acknowledged him.
Han took a step back.
Then another.
Because behind him—
in the alley—
a pair of eyes opened.
Not human.
Cold.
Empty.
Reflecting no life.
They hovered in the dark like two pale moons.
Han's breath froze.
The creature stepped forward, its limbs too long, its joints bending wrong. Its skin was stretched thin and colorless, like a corpse pulled from frozen water. Its jaw hung open—not in hunger, not in rage, but in recognition.
As if it knew him.
As if it had been waiting.
The thing whispered in a broken voice:
"…god… fragment…"
Han's stomach tightened.
"What… are you?"
The creature lunged.
Han stumbled backward as the monster's claws sliced the air where his throat had been. Its movements were jerky, twitching, like a puppet being yanked by invisible strings.
Han ran.
His bare feet slapped cracked pavement. His breath tore from his lungs. The silence shattered under the monster's dragging limbs.
He turned a corner—
tripped—
skidded across asphalt.
The creature crawled after him, its elbows cracking backward. Its face twisted, stretching unnaturally until its jaw split open wider than any human's ever could.
It screeched:
"ABANDONED… GOD…"
Han scrambled back.
His hand brushed against a shard of glowing crystal half-buried in the road—pulsing faintly, humming with energy.
He didn't hesitate.
He grabbed it.
Light surged through his veins—violent, scorching, divine.
A window of light flashed before his eyes:
[Divine Fragment Absorbed]
+1 Domain Spark
+1 DP
Warning: Fragment unstable. Improper integration may cause insanity.
Pain exploded in Han's skull.
He clenched his teeth, vision fracturing into shattered reflections—the city bending, the sky cracking, the monster's face twisting—
and then—
A voice echoed inside him:
"Devour or be devoured."
Han raised the fragment.
The monster lunged again.
Instinct—old, primal, divine—took over.
Han slashed the crystal across the creature's throat.
It didn't cut.
It didn't bleed.
Instead, the fragment pulled—
as if drinking something invisible.
The monster convulsed, frozen in half-motion.
Light flowed from its body—thin, pale strands—straight into the shard in Han's hand.
The creature's bones cracked.
Its skin sagged.
Its eyes dimmed.
It collapsed…
like a doll robbed of strings.
Han dropped the fragment, panting, shaking.
[Monster "Forgotten Wretch" — Devoured]
+5 DP
+1 Minor Authority Shard
Domain Compatibility: Unknown
Warning: You are still collapsing.
Han wiped the cold sweat from his brow.
"I… killed it."
No.
He didn't kill it.
He consumed it.
A god with no believers.
No domain.
No myth.
No past.
Standing alone in a ruined city where silence had swallowed the world.
Han Islat looked at his trembling hands, glowing faintly with divine residue.
And for the first time since waking…
he felt watched.
Not by the city.
Not by the monsters.
Not by the dead silence.
But by something above the cracks in the sky.
Something ancient.
Something waiting.
Something that whispered, almost gently:
"Welcome, Abandoned God."