A heavy, palpable silence hung over the Yokujon village border when I arrived. Scores of people were frozen, faces etched with utter shock, all eyes fixed on me. The unnatural quiet was violently broken by a piercing, panicked cry from the crowd: "Somebody call the leader! Now!" The voice snapped the community out of its stupor, replacing shock with nervous shuffling.
As I entered the village, people scattered, clearing a path. Whispers followed me. They only knew the ancient tales and crude drawings of the "Something." My true form was terrifyingly ambiguous to them. I wasn't a savior; I was a fearsome, living curse, an omen of disaster that had descended upon their community.
Hisakage rushed frantically from the main lodge, gasping. When his eyes met mine, his expression—a chaotic mix of shock and bewilderment—was new, as if his reality had been violently uprooted. He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. He stood paralyzed, a statue, by the sight of me.
The arrival of the leader heightened the tension. He strode authoritatively through the stunned crowd, but upon seeing my supernatural form, he halted, mirroring Hisakage's profound shock. After a long, scrutinizing stare, a crushing resignation seemed to replace the initial disbelief.
The leader suddenly threw himself onto the dusty ground in complete submission, a gesture of worship reserved for the most sacred or terrifying entities. The sound cued the rest of the villagers, who dropped to their knees and then prostrated themselves, foreheads pressed to the dirt. A wave of hushed, reverent murmurs rose, a collective prayer or plea directed at me.
Standing amidst the worshiping shadows, I was consumed by a suffocating sense of shame. Their reverence felt undeserved, making me feel like a traitor who had abandoned humanity to become something alien and divine. My first instinct was to flee the crushing weight of their expectation. But it was too late; I was already knee-deep in their overwhelming faith, and I was forced to see it through.
Forget the relentless doom, gloom, and existential dread you might expect. This isn't a tear-jerker or a suffering treatise. This is my origin story, one of cunning, ambition, and personal victory. The last chapter was just the blueprint. Now that you know how and why I became the formidable individual I am, let's move on.
The question isn't "What happened next?" The question is "How did I make it happen next?"
So, buckle up, because the boring part is over. Now I will detail precisely how I orchestrated the rest of my existence for your stupid ass.
So here goes.
Everything just flipped, like, overnight. It was a massive change, a total 180 from my old life. I went from being my house's nobody to suddenly being treated like some kind of legend—a god, practically, to my own people. The switch was so fast and so extreme that it felt completely unreal, like I stopped being just a person and became a battery for something way bigger. My old life? Gone. Just a faint memory compared to this new, intense reality.
But this bizarre, almost overwhelming VIP status came with one seriously cool perk: I finally got to learn how to actually use these wild, reality-bending powers coursing through me.
Despite my unique, atom-level abilities, the clan elders understood the exact mechanics and source of my power. Wielding this power basically depends on how much I can get the Something under my control. My counter-intuitive but essential training involved learning to feel and sense the individual molecules around me—a deeply meditative, hyper-focused process. Slowly, I began sensing the "hum of existence" and my Aspect flowed through everything within fifty meters, fueling a wild, slaughterous hunger. This power, a demonic-like technique, allowed me to manipulate blood, see minds, and control matter at a cellular level. Processing the location, speed, and makeup of every nearby atom was initially overwhelming.
For a basic example, by focusing my Aspect on the atoms beneath my feet, I could create a pushing or pulling force, similar to a magnet, to levitate myself. I can manipulate the forces holding any matter together. This basic ability allows me, with enough focus and energy, to move, launch, or reshape virtually anything—rock, water, air, or even organic material, which means that I could tear somebody's flesh off their body or make their brain explode. The potential is limitless and somewhat terrifying.
I felt an insane, endless reservoir of power, a thrilling rush that made me feel unbeatable. This confidence was largely misplaced; I lacked the necessary control. The Something inside me was difficult, refusing to cooperate when needed and emerging when I didn't want it to. More importantly, I was forbidden from using it except to protect someone, a strict rule set by the elders. To prevent disaster, I was confined to the house's property.
How incredibly lame is that?
A stranger's arrival shattered the village rhythm. Not a merchant, pilgrim, or local, he wore unsettling black robes with red silk and a face-obscuring straw hat. His movements were slow, unnatural. When he reached the square, all chatter ceased. His specific, direct request: he was looking for me.
His soft voice held strange authority. He claimed to be a devotee of the Something and demanded a private meeting. This was a major red flag; outsiders never make demands like that in our closed community, especially not for a specific high-ranking member.
For reasons unknown—curiosity or spiritual duty—the leader allowed him to see me in the small, private courtyard. The moment he crossed the threshold, an intense, unrelated-to-the-weather chill ran down my spine.
That's when I knew he shouldn't be there.
He bowed, which felt more like a dramatic performance than actual respect, and that's when I felt his dark energy. It wasn't the explosive, messy kind from a wraith. This felt focused, ancient, and deeply personal. It was radiating off him like heat from a furnace. He felt evil, like a thick, suffocating cloud pressing in on my senses, almost like he was a living curse, a stain on the world's good energy. The confusing part was he was flesh and blood, a man, but somehow fundamentally wrapped up in this foul energy. The contradiction of his existence sent a massive jolt of alarm through me.
His next request, arguably stranger than the last, confirmed the growing unease.