Chapter 1: Forgotten Prayers

The city beneath him pulsed with light, like a living thing trying too hard to be beautiful.

On the highest floor of a towering skyscraper, a man sat in silence. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie loose, and his glasses rested beside a half-empty glass of wine. The faint reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window showed little of his face—just enough to see the fatigue that clung to him like smoke.

He wasn't working. Wasn't resting either. Just… existing.

From this height, everything below looked small—cars, people, entire buildings. The weight of power should've made him feel mighty. Instead, he felt like a ghost haunting his own success.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and stared out over the glittering horizon. Somewhere far below, a breeze moved through the streets. The city was alive. But not for him.

A knock echoed behind him.

"Sir?" A soft voice—his assistant.

He didn't turn. "Hmm"

"Sir.....do u need anything..."

"No… nothing. It's late. You should go home, And yah, ask Kim to drop u off."

"I'm fine walking home, sir. Thank you."

He nodded wordlessly.

As she left, the door clicked shut with a whisper.

He leaned back into his chair, eyes drifting across the night sky. He hadn't meant to look down again, but something caught his attention—two figures near the building's entrance. She had already exited. A man was waiting for her. Tall, smiling, with an umbrella. They exchanged a few words. Laughed. She hugged him gently.

He hadn't meant to see it. But he had.

His fingers curled loosely around the wine glass. Not tight enough to break it. Just enough to feel its chill.

"…Why isn't that in my fate?"

He turned away from the window. "Kim."

The door opened without delay. His bodyguard appeared silently and Bowed.

"Make sure they get home safely," he said, pointing at the couple below.

"Understood, sir."nodded and left.

He watched as a black car rolled to the curb below. Kim stepped out, spoke to them briefly, and gestured toward the car. They hesitated, then accepted.

As the vehicle drove away, he closed his eyes.

"Aaah...you guys found the happiness, I always desired for...I am jealous."

He stood their for a while and Moved slowly to his bedroom. The wine was untouched now.

He pulled off his watch, placing it beside the empty decanter. Then lay down on the cool bed with the kind of tiredness that seeps from the soul, not the body, watching the dark celing.

He didn't pray.

But someone—somewhere—had been listening all along.

His eyes closed.

The moment his eyes opened, the world was gone.

There was no pain.

No air.

Just nothing.

A black void surrounded him—formless, infinite. There was no ground, yet he didn't fall. No air or oxygen, yet he wasn't suffocating.

Whispers.

Thousands. Whispering, weeping, laughing, chanting. Their sound filled every corner of nothingness. It was like standing in the middle of a colosseum where the crowd was made of stars and time itself.

He tried to speak, "Kim? Anyone?!"

But his voice drowned like sound underwater.

He turned....A light appeared in the distance. White. Blinding. Pulling him in.

He reached for it—fingers outstretched, desperate. It pulsed… just out of reach.

When he lunged, it vanished.

Silence.

For a long moment, there was nothing. No ground, no breath. Only the eerie sense that something was watching.

"…Hello?" he called, but even his voice was quiet, swallowed by the vastness.

Then, it began.

A sound unlike any known to man. Not spoken, but felt. A tongue ancient and raw.

"⨈⨁⩂⨷⨌⩣⫩⩃⩍⨐…"

He flinched.

More followed.

"⩔⨍⨁⫞⩎⩀⩘⫩⨻…"

Letters that didn't exist. Sounds no human could speak. The language of gods.

Dozens of voices. Not shouting—but existing. Their words were space and sound.

He stumbled back, clutching his head. "What the hell are you saying?!"

Then, like a thread weaving through chaos—a single voice emerged.

Clear. Feminine. So beautiful, it felt like it existed outside sound itself.

"Human named Sinzil."

His breath caught.

"You stand before the Twelve—the gods who wove the universes. You are here because they have heard your prayer."

"…I'm dead?"

"You have departed your former life. You are now in the Superficial Realm or The Realm of Gods. A soul between endings and beginnings."

He swallowed hard. "Why can't I see anything?"

"You are in presence of divine beings," she said gently. "A mortal soul cannot gaze upon the divine and remain whole. And so you were blinded by their mercy."

He swallowed. His voice cracked. "Then why? Why bring me here?"

"To answer your prayer."

"…What do you mean by answer my prayer?"

"For sixteen years, your desire lingered like a thread in the fabric of fate. Unspoken, unfulfilled. The gods found it—compelling. And worthy of amusement."

His eyes widened. He hadn't spoken of it in years. Hadn't even thought about it—at least not consciously, he frowned.

"Then… they're giving me what I want?"

"No."Her tone sharpened. "They are giving you the chance to earn it."

A pause.

"How?"

She paused, then continued.

"You are granted a trial. A chance to earn what you desire. Countless universes exist—countless variations of your reality. In some, you will be born as yourself. In others, as a stranger. Succeed in any one of them, and your prayer shall be fulfilled in your origin world."

"Am..ha...—don't take this the wrong way—but do I have to give something in return? My life? My time? My soul?" He tried to smile, bitterly. "I've read the stories. Gifts from gods are never free."

Silence.

Then... laughter.

It wasn't cruel. But it wasn't kind either.

"You assume the gods are merchants? That they require something from something like you?"

"I just asked," he muttered. "Didn't want to be tricked."

"The gods are not here to bargain. They are here to offer."

He wanting to change the topic...

"So… all I have to do is succeed once? In any version of reality, and you will give me what I want in original world too"

"Yes."

His breath caught. It sounded simple. Too simple.

"But the worlds vary. Some are like your own. Some are filled with powers, wars, or laws unknown to you. In each, you begin as the self that belongs to that realm. If you do not exist there, you will be born anew."

"what if I wher to die..."

A Pause

"You cannot return to a world where your life has ended, but You will be reborn. Again. And again. Until you succeed… or break, in anouther world."

He hesitated.

"...I accept."

The whispering gods grew quiet.

Then a chorus of voices echoed.

One god rose above the rest, speaking in a tongue so dense, so immense, the void itself trembled.

Then silence again.

The angelic voice returned.

"Before you, a wheel. The gods have granted you a chance to get a Kunátta, press that button human."

'Kunátta. A word meaning 'gift of essence' in the forgotten tongue of Norse myth. A power that shall follow you… and you alone.'

'"Kuna… what?"

Though blind, he reached forward and felt something—smooth, cold, immense.

A wheel.

He pressed.

A roar like crashing waterfalls filled the air. Then stillness.

"…What did I get?" he asked.

Silence.

"Are you there?"

Silence.

His eye sight returned, and he was back in the same place wher he was. though their where no noises.

But now, it wasn't empty.

There was a table.

And on that table: a scroll.

Sinzil stumbled toward it. It unrolled itself in his hands, pulsing faintly with light.

Three lines appeared.

[Name: Sinzil]

[Kunátta:⨐⨯⨇⨍⩣⨋⨌ ⩃⨁⫩⨛⨓⩖⨐⨌⨗⫞⩤]

(A soul-bound gift. Grants the ability to ⩃⨁⫩⨛⨓⩖⨐ in ⩣⨇ endlessly—even if the gods forget, you remember.)

[Fæth'rùn: 𓆑𓄿𓇋𓎼𓅱𓋴𓏏𓄿𓍯𓃒𓂀𓅓𓊃𓈖𓎡𓁹]

The scroll began to dissolve.

He gasped and tried to hold on—but it turned to light.

The void cracked. Space folded in.

And far, far away, in a palace draped in banners and the cries of joy—

—a child was born.

His eyes opened.

And for a brief moment, something ancient looked through them.

The gods remained watching.

Unknowing.

Unaware.

And so it began.

The game.

The sin of fate.