The Omniscient’s POV

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In the most isolated corner of the universe, a halting Pagoda could be seen floating in open space.

It flickered from being invisible to visible in a continuous cycle. The mysterious Pagoda's exterior was studded with glass panels.

On a particular floor inside this grand tower was my office.

You heard right.

My office.

Gods, Authors, Creators—call us whatever you want.

It does not matter.

We were the ones who shaped Worlds and weaved destinies for the unwitting souls trapped in our stories.

I, however, am just a newbie among them.

My desk was covered in the usual, organised mess: glowing quills scattered alongside floating orbs of incomplete ideas.

Lastly, there was a luxurious screen studded on my desk wall.

This screen was an artifact with which I could monitor 'My World' whenever I want

This was my first project, and I agree that although not everything went as smoothly as I wanted it to…was finally back on track.

Noah. Poor, sweet Noah.

The live feed showed the 17-year-old kid crouched inside the dustbin can with his black hair scattered all over his face.

My lips curled into a smirk as I bit on my fingernails, leaning forward on my chair.

"Yes…this was it," I whispered, my voice low; shaking with excitement.

"This is where it all begins. Pain. Suffering. That's how you create a villain!"

"Kekkeke"

I hugged my legs, perching on the chair as if I might jump through the screen at any chance I got. My eyes never left him—

Not when I had 'bestowed' him a cursed physique, not when I had made his eyes miserable.

Never.

My fingers gently tapped against my lips, and I could not help but chuckle.

"You will break," I said to the half-beaten character inside the screen.

"Oh. I know you will. That's how I wrote to you. You'll fall, you will fail. And then you will rise stronger, better…and darker—"

Time continued to pass as I patiently sipped on the complimentary coffee given to us.

Ahhh~

What a bliss it was.

The scene changed again, I saw him stumble into the room, barely holding himself together.

Yes!

Yes!!

This was it—

My eyes started to glow as I stood from my seat.

My poor Noah.

It is high time you fulfil your role.

And just when I thought he was finally awakening his empty physique, my smile faltered.

"Wait…what's this?!?" I muttered, my hands gripping the edges of the desk as unease started to creep in.

"No, no, no. Crying? You're not supposed to cry. You're supposed to break down!

To channel your anger- You're supposed to fucking embrace the void!"

Ughhh

I did not even realise when my hand swiped along the table, throwing every orb, every piece of paper on the floor.

My face was burning with uncontrolled anger and my hands hurt with pain.

He was veering off the script…

Again!!

That wasn't supposed to happen.

This was the moment where he was meant to wake up and realize the meaninglessness of life, the futility of hope.

He was supposed to fall!

And then I saw it.

The book.

That goddamn glowing book, sitting innocently in the corner of the room, its presence like a slap across my face.

My heart sank as Noah crawled back towards it. My hands clenched into fists, and I slammed them against the desk with a roar.

"IT'S THAT DAMN BOOK AGAIN!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the endless workspace.

Quite a few heads turned in my direction, but that was the least of my concerns right now.

Even though they were all beings of extraordinary presence, I was no smaller than them.

Some appeared as radiant figures of light, others as shadowy forms shrouded in mystery.

My teeth ground together as I ignored the stares and gazed back at the screen, rage bubbling under my skin.

"How does he keep finding it?!" I growled, running my hands through my hair. "I killed his parents! I made him an outcast!

I did everything to keep him from awakening that cursed thing! And yet..." I trailed off, my voice trembling with frustration.

"And yet he still manages to open it?"

My expression twisted, the edge of my lips twisting…But just then, I felt it.

A shift in the atmosphere—

A slow, deliberate clock of heels echoed as she approached.

"Still playing god with your little toys?" She asked, her voice was like velvet drenched in honey... 

I dared to look up and instantly regretted it.

Her face was still a swirling blur of whites and golds.

But nothing, nothing, obscured the rest of her. Her figure was a sculptor's impossible dream—curves so perfectly proportioned they defied logic, every motion she made radiating an aura of effortless allure.

She leaned casually on the edge of my desk, her hips lifted just so, one hand trailing along the surface of my workspace.

Her lips, or at least where they should have been, curved into what I could only describe as a smirk, though her face was still shrouded in that maddening blur.

The soft fabric of her white button-up shirt clung to her form in ways that defied gravity, the embroidered label over her chest reading, in bold, taunting letters:

Aphrodite.

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