Unknown Realm

Tick... tock... tick... tock... The loud ticking of a clock disturbed Fyrel, who was sleeping soundly.

He woke up little by little but still didn't open his eyes. He only used his ears to confirm the sound of the clock. His goosebumps stood on end as he felt a chill from the gentle breeze.

He opened his eyes, but all he could see was darkness from the corner of his vision. His body felt like it was lying on a flat surface without a mattress or pillow. He then tried to sit up and rubbed his eyes, still feeling drowsy.

His eyes blinked in the pitch-black darkness, and his hands groped around, but he couldn't feel anything—as if nothing was there, as though the place was completely empty.

The ticking of the clock grew louder, and in the blink of an eye, the surroundings were filled with floating wooden clocks in the dark space... each one of them had a small round light hovering above it.

They floated in an orderly manner, as if forming a straight path. All of them showed the exact time—12 AM.

I should be scared now, but this scene felt oddly familiar, as if I'd experienced it before, though I couldn't remember when.

Then, not far from Fyrel's line of sight, he spotted a figure walking from the far end toward him, following the path of floating clocks.

Closer and closer it came, until it stopped right at the edge where Fyrel was sitting. The creature was entirely concealed in a black robe, holding a staff as tall as two meters. The staff's shaft was carved with twisting root-like patterns, and at its top was a lozenge-shaped ornament.

It stood there… and did nothing.

Is it waiting for me? Fyrel felt uneasy as the creature just stood motionless in front of him. He then rose cautiously, preparing himself—but before he could fully stand, the creature turned its body and faced the path of clocks again.

After standing up fully, the creature took three steps forward before stopping again. Fyrel, hesitating only for a moment, took his first step—prompting the creature to resume walking. Too tired to overthink it, he decided to simply follow wherever the creature led.

Each time they passed one of the floating clocks, it would shift forward, creating a new path ahead. This continued until, finally, they reached the end of the road—where a towering three-meter door stood, adorned with carvings of four hibiscus flowers at each corner and a lozenge shape at its center.

The creature struck the floor three times with its staff, and the door began to creak open slowly. Then, it stepped aside, as if granting Fyrel passage.

He stepped inside, and the moment he crossed the threshold, the door shut behind him on its own. The darkness persisted, unchanged—until, all at once, countless *large eyes* materialized in the void, encircling the chamber. Their irises glowed crimson, their pupils pitch black, casting an eerie red haze across the room.

Directly ahead of Fyrel loomed an enormous throne, flanked by two robed guards—their black cloaks draped over winged silhouettes, standing motionless in the gloom.

From the left, a figure approached the throne and sat upon it. Their attire was the same as the others, but this time, their massive frame stood around nine feet tall.

THUMP!

One of the guards struck the floor once. Suddenly, Fyrel felt a powerful gust of wind slam down from above, forcing him to the ground. The pressure was so intense that his legs buckled, and he had to drop to one knee just to keep from being crushed. He barely managed to brace himself with his hands, trembling under the force.

THUMP! THUMP!

The guard struck the floor twice more, and just like that, the wind vanished.

Fyrel tried to stand, but his legs shook violently, forcing him to stay in place. Something was very wrong. Gathering his courage, he spoke:

Who... are you?

No answer came. Instead, the figure on the throne tapped their thigh twice with an index finger.

WHOOSH!

In an instant, dozens of swords materialized from the glowing red eyes around the chamber, all pointing directly at Fyrel. Without warning, they shot toward him like arrows, aiming to impale him where he knelt—

CLANG!

Yet, none could touch him. An invisible force blocked every blade, sending them ricocheting away in a shower of sparks. A ripple of energy pulsed outward, deflecting the attack as if Fyrel were shielded by an unseen barrier.

The figure on the throne began to laugh—

Ha... ha... HAHA! She's still alive—the goddess who betrayed the gods. What an interesting human she's chosen... Not afraid of threats, and handsome enough, perhaps, to make that bitch pick him.

Is he talking about the goddess who gave me this power? Fyrel clenched his fists. If that's true, I regret ever tossing that wishing coin into the pond. Where's the "normal life" she promised me?

The throne's occupant seemed fixated on her. Hey, human—where is that bitch right now?

In your dreams, Fyrel replied flatly.

A heavy silence fell. Then—

Hmm... Are you trying to be funny? The air grew heavier, thick with malice. Do you not know who I am? I am Axazil—the loyal angel of the gods, cast out because of you humans!

Fyrel shook his head. That's your problem. Not mine.

CRACK.

The armrest of the throne splintered under Axazil's crushing grip. Just as the tension threatened to explode, one of the black-robed guards leaned in, whispering something into Axazil's ear.

The angel's grip loosened. As the guard pulled away, a slow, unsettling smile spread across Axazil's hidden face.

Oh? Is that so... His voice dripped with dark amusement. Then this just got much more entertaining.

Axazil then stood up from his seat and walked toward Fyrel, locking eyes with him.

Clap... clap... clap...Axazil slowly applauded.

You also can't kill human rights... And you're really married to that cursed woman who will destroy the world? I just want to warn you—that woman is the daughter of that goddess. She is cursed to be the one who brings ruin to the world.

"She still tries to alter the fate set by the gods. All of it is futile... unless that person isn't one of their creations. But that 0.00001% chance... it might happen."

Axazil then stood and prepared to leave. Before vanishing, he uttered his final words:

You will die if you stay with that woman... Good luck..