Yahweh, the God of Light, sat on his golden throne, his mind heavy with the gravity of the decision he had just made. The divine hall was empty now, save for him and the lingering echoes of power that hummed through the air. He spoke into the silence, his voice resonating in the minds of his fellow deities.
[The boy's gone, Odin, Chronos. You can both speak now.]
A deep, contemplative voice responded, [That boy's request will cause a stir once Anubis hears of us granting it,] stated Odin, the All-Father, his voice carrying the weight of millennia of wisdom.
Yahweh's brow furrowed, his thoughts darkening. [We penalized him harsher than we would have liked just to ensure we remained within the rules. That's all that matters. Plus, when have any of us ever feared the Egyptian gods?]
Odin's voice remained steady, but a note of caution underlay his words. [Never, but they now have Zeus's support, and we all know he's not to be taken lightly, Yahweh.]
[We'll worry about that when the contest reaches the next level,] Yahweh replied, his tone sharpening with irritation. [For now, our focus is on the chosen children and who will emerge victorious.]
Chronos, the God of Time, remained silent, his thoughts a deep well of patience and foresight. The gods knew better than to let their worries for the future distract them from the present. With that, the conversation ended, leaving an unspoken tension among the divine beings, each contemplating the stakes of the contest.
On the new Earth, a young boy lay unconscious in a sterile white hospital bed. His body was frail, his long blonde hair unkempt and his face handsome but marked by signs of neglect and malnutrition. This was Michael Corvinus, newly reborn and on the cusp of awakening to a reality far different from the one he had left behind.
Suddenly, his eyes flew open, and a primal scream tore from his throat, "AGHHHHHHHHHH!"
Pain—sharp, unrelenting, and all-encompassing—coursed through his body, every nerve ending aflame with agony. It was as if his very cells were being torn apart and reconstructed in a relentless cycle. In his previous life, Brandon Jones had endured torture, injury, and the horrors of war, but this pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced. His new, fragile body felt as if it were on the brink of disintegration.
Hearing his screams, nurses rushed into the room, their faces masks of concern and urgency. As they approached the bed, they noticed something unusual—Michael's eyes had turned a radiant golden hue. The nurses gasped, momentarily forgetting their patient's distress. In this world, it was a rare phenomenon for a human to awaken their talent before the age of fourteen. Such an event was usually reserved for the offspring of powerful families or renowned awakeners, and it was considered a sign of extraordinary potential.
Regaining their composure, the nurses quickly administered a sedative to calm Michael, allowing his body to adjust to the new talent awakening within him. What they didn't know was that this adjustment would take an entire month, a period of intense, transformative pain that would push Michael to his limits.
One Month Later
Michael slowly opened his eyes, the harsh white light of the hospital room flooding his vision. His body felt heavy, as if he had been submerged in thick, unyielding darkness for an eternity. He was dressed in a standard hospital gown, connected to various medical devices—some familiar, others seemingly out of a science fiction movie.
"What the hell was with that pain?! And couldn't he at least warn me?" Michael muttered, his voice rough and strained. The memory of the excruciating agony still clung to him like a shadow, and he couldn't help but voice his frustration out loud.
A voice, sharp and slightly amused, cut through his thoughts. "First thing you do after being born again is complain?"
Startled, Michael turned towards the source of the voice, his instincts urging him to leap into a defensive stance. However, his frail new body wasn't as responsive as his old one. As he tried to move, the wires connecting him to the medical equipment pulled tight, yanking him back and sending him tumbling off the bed in a dramatic heap.
Laughter, high and clear, filled the room. "My father told me you were interesting. Who knew you'd be a clown instead of a champion?" The voice belonged to a white cat sitting casually on the windowsill, its bright blue eyes sparkling with mirth.
Michael stared at the cat in disbelief, his heart racing as he scrambled back onto the bed. "Why is a talking cat here? And who are you?" he demanded, his unease growing with each passing moment. He remembered Yahweh speaking about the different races, but he hadn't expected to encounter something so bizarre right after waking.
"I'm your familiar, idiot. Did you already forget what my father said? My name is Uriel," the cat replied, its tone haughty yet oddly endearing.
"Uriel? As in the Archangel?" Michael asked, his curiosity piqued despite his disorientation.
"Of course, the one and only Archangel Uriel," the cat—Uriel—said with a proud flick of her tail. She preened, clearly pleased that her name carried weight even across different universes, even those devoid of magic.
Michael looked at her, incredulous. "Why is an archangel my familiar? I thought I'd get some low-level assistant."
Uriel's expression turned serious, her tone losing its earlier playful edge. "This contest of champions is of great importance. All contestants have a familiar that, at their peak, are just as powerful as low-level gods." Her voice held a gravity that made Michael realize the true weight of the situation. "Even if a contestant is weak, they still have the sponsorship of a high-level god and the direct help of a being on par with lower-level gods."
"So, the familiars for the other two contestants?" Michael asked, a growing sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach.
"Fenrir of Lord Odin's camp, and the All-Seeing Eye that has accompanied Lord Chronos for eons," Uriel replied, her eyes narrowing as she assessed Michael's reaction.
Michael felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead. Fenrir—a name known even in his previous world, a legendary wolf destined to challenge gods. He realized then that the familiars of his competitors were not just powerful—they were beings of immense, almost incomprehensible strength.
"How powerful are you all right now?" Michael asked, his voice barely above a whisper, bracing himself for the worst.
"I'm literally a kitten," Uriel said flatly. "I'm weaker than you, and as for them, they've had twelve years to grow. So in this area, I'm currently the weakest. Also, thank you for that, with your unreasonable request by the way, human." Uriel returned to licking her claws, basking in the sunlight streaming through the window, as if unconcerned by the grim reality she had just laid out.
Michael's heart sank. Yahweh had warned him about the disadvantages, but now he saw just how deep they ran. "I need to know exactly what type of situation we're in and how bad it is. Can you help me with that?" he asked, steeling himself for the truth.
Uriel stopped grooming herself and looked at Michael, her blue eyes serious and unflinching. "I can, but I doubt you truly want to hear this. You weren't just put at a disadvantage—you were royally screwed."
Michael's face went blank, the weight of her words hitting him harder than he expected. He felt a growing sense of dread, but he knew he had to hear the full truth. "Tell me everything," he said, his voice steady but with an underlying edge of desperation.
Uriel sighed, as if contemplating how best to break the news. "Well, let's start with how it'll be hell just trying to catch up for the next two years. You were told that children here awaken as early as twelve, but that was technically wrong. Those rich children train and consume magical medicines for years before they awaken at twelve. This increases their chances of awakening more than one talent, and it also helps boost the grade and potency of those talents right from the start. You, on the other hand, basically died from the awakening process and then lost a month of valuable time."
Michael listened intently, each revelation sinking deeper into his already heavy heart.
"Those are just the regular children I'm talking about," Uriel continued, her tone growing darker. "The heaven-blessed individuals, on the other hand, either reincarnated or transmigrated, allowing them to practice and awaken much earlier than twelve. On top of that, they have multiple top-grade talents that are only slightly inferior to you three champions. Speaking of the other two, they kept their memories from birth, were born into prominent families, awakened much earlier, and have had the help of their familiars from day one. You, on the other hand, have no family, no support, and spent the last month in a coma."
Michael's mind reeled. The mountain he had to climb was steeper than he had ever imagined. He wasn't just behind; he was practically at the base while his competitors were scaling the heights.
Uriel's voice softened slightly, sensing his inner turmoil. "Look, it's not impossible, Michael. The path ahead is treacherous, but with your talents and the right strategy, you can close the gap. But you need to understand what you're up against. This isn't just a competition—it's a war for survival, for godhood, and the stakes are higher than you can imagine."
Michael took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The odds were stacked against him, but he wasn't one to back down from a challenge. He had fought against overwhelming odds before, and he would do it again. "I see. Thank you for being honest with me, Uriel."
The cat gave a small nod, her eyes softening with a hint of compassion. "We're in this together, Michael. I'll do everything I can to help you. Just remember, the road will be hard, but the rewards are worth it."
Michael clenched his fists, determination flooding back into his veins. "Then let's not waste any more time. We've got work to do."
Uriel smiled, her sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight. "That's the spirit. Now, let's get you out of this hospital and start training. We've got a lot of ground to cover."
As Michael prepared to leave, a sense of resolve settled over him. The path ahead was daunting, filled with powerful enemies and unimaginable challenges, but he would face them all. He had a mission, and he wouldn't let anything stand in his way. The contest had begun, and Michael Corvinus was ready to rise to the challenge.