The city lights blurred in the rain as Ren Akihara leaned his forehead against the bus window, watching the drops slide down the glass in zigzagging patterns. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn't check it. Not yet. The quiet hum of the bus engine and the rhythmic tapping of raindrops against the window were his only companions as he tried, and failed, to push away the lingering fragments of the dream.
The dream again.
It had started a month ago, always the same. A vast battlefield, ancient and desolate, stretching into a stormy horizon. Towering figures with faces obscured by shadows clashed in the distance, their weapons creating thunderous echoes that shook the earth. And then there was him—Kaelir. A name that felt as old as the world itself, but one Ren only knew from the dream. A name that was both alien and strangely familiar.
Ren wasn't just a spectator in the dream; he was Kaelir. His every movement, every thought, was the god's. His body heavy with an ancient power, a cold detachment flowing through him as he fought countless foes. It felt real—too real.
And when Ren woke up, the sensation of that other life didn't vanish. It clung to him, slipping between the cracks of his everyday routine like a shadow that refused to fade. Even now, as the bus rumbled down the rain-slicked streets, he could still feel the weight of the god's sword in his hand, the pull of his divine strength just under his skin.
"Akihara."
Ren blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. His classmate, Yuto, was standing in the aisle, a half-smile on his face.
"You're going to miss your stop, man."
Ren glanced outside. Sure enough, they were nearing the intersection by the school. With a quiet curse, he grabbed his bag and hurried off the bus just before the doors closed behind him. Yuto fell into step beside him, throwing a glance at the cloudy sky.
"Late again, huh?" Yuto asked, casually brushing a strand of damp hair from his forehead. "Don't tell me—stayed up playing that new RPG?"
Ren forced a laugh. "Yeah, something like that."
He couldn't tell Yuto the truth. What would he even say? That he'd been dreaming of gods and battlefields? That he was starting to confuse his own life with that of a forgotten god from a time lost to history? It sounded insane, even to him.
They arrived at the school gates just as the first bell rang. Students rushed through the entrance, their umbrellas creating a sea of black, blue, and pink against the dull gray sky. Ren's eyes scanned the crowd, his gaze lingering on a girl with long silver hair standing at the edge of the gate, her face partially hidden beneath a white umbrella.
Mira Sato.
The new transfer student. She had only been at the school for a week, and yet she seemed to attract attention wherever she went. Her pale skin, sharp features, and unnervingly calm demeanor made her stand out, though no one could quite figure out why. There was something about her that felt… off. As if she didn't belong.
Ren had caught her staring at him more than once during class, her blue-gray eyes unreadable, like she knew something about him that he didn't. He wasn't sure if it made him curious or uncomfortable.
"Hey, isn't that the new girl?" Yuto's voice snapped Ren back to reality. "She's kinda weird, huh?"
Ren shrugged. "Maybe she's just shy."
"Yeah, maybe." Yuto flashed a grin. "But I'd still bet she's into you."
Ren rolled his eyes and followed Yuto inside the building, trying to shake the unease that had settled over him.
The day passed in a blur of lectures and idle conversation, but the strange sense of detachment never left Ren. It was as though he was watching everything from a distance, just out of reach. By the time lunch rolled around, he had nearly convinced himself that it was all just fatigue. Maybe Yuto was right—he'd been staying up too late. Maybe he just needed to rest.
But then she appeared.
Mira stood at the edge of the school roof, her silver hair flowing in the breeze, eyes fixed on the horizon. Ren hadn't planned to come up here; he just wanted to escape the noise of the cafeteria. But now that he was here, he felt a strange pull toward her. Like an invisible thread had guided his steps.
"You've been dreaming, haven't you?"
Ren froze, her words catching him completely off guard. He hadn't spoken to her before. How could she know?
"Excuse me?" Ren said, his voice wary.
Mira turned, her gaze locking onto his. Those eyes—sharp and knowing, like she could see through him.
"Dreams of a forgotten time," she said quietly, stepping closer. "Of a god whose name you cannot remember but whose power calls to you."
Ren's heart skipped a beat. His throat tightened.
"How do you—"
Mira tilted her head slightly. "Because I've been watching you. And because I am like you, Ren Akihara."
The wind picked up, and Ren took a step back, suddenly aware of the weight of the air between them. He felt it again—that strange, heavy sensation, like the dream was slipping back into reality. The world around him seemed to blur, the edges of the rooftop flickering like a mirage.
"What are you talking about?" Ren's voice was tight, his pulse quickening. "Who are you?"
"I am a Dream Weaver," Mira said softly, her voice barely audible over the wind. "And you are Kaelir, the God of Forgotten Realms."
Ren's eyes widened. His body tensed as the world around them seemed to shift. The sky darkened, and the air became thick with a power that was not his own.
This couldn't be real. It had to be some kind of mistake, a trick of the mind. But as Mira stepped even closer, Ren could feel it—her power, ancient and vast, like the very gods from his dreams.
And in that moment, everything he thought he knew about himself, about his life, shattered.