He had witnessed the birth of every being—celestial, cosmic, and natural. He had seen them rise and fall, the heavens and hells shaping themselves around the very fabric of existence. Yet, an ambition began to grow within him. He wanted to understand how mortals lived—their struggles, their victories, their pain.
In his distant observation, he perceived Earth as a small, fragile universe—a mere speck among countless realities. He watched as rulers wielded their power, crushing those beneath them to maintain their dominion. Yet he sensed an undercurrent of rebellion, a yearning for freedom that stirred in the hearts of the oppressed.
"What drives them?" he mused, contemplating the delicate nature of existence on Earth. "What makes them fight when their fate seems so dire?"
In the year 2047, amidst a violent storm, a life was cut short. The screams of anguish filled the air as a father's sacrifice resonated through the chaos. He had labored tirelessly, but fate had other plans.
Far away, in a dimly lit room, a man in his thirties leaned back in his chair, engrossed in the first chapter of a popular novel. The glow of his computer screen illuminated the clutter around him—empty food wrappers and forgotten items scattered across the desk.
"Wow," he murmured, scrolling through the text. "This is amazing! Even after eight years, people are still reading it." He typed a comment, brimming with enthusiasm:
" This story is incredible! I'm hooked already. Can't believe it's still number one".
He chuckled, feeling pride swell within him. He had crafted a world where the main character endured unimaginable trials, and the readers were captivated. Yet, as he read further, an unsettling energy crept into the room, a feeling that something was about to change.
A flicker of movement caught his eye. He turned, heart racing, to find an ethereal figure standing before him—an embodiment of power and presence.
Without a word, the figure raised a hand, and the air crackled with energy. The author felt a sudden weightlessness, as if gravity itself had abandoned him.
He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound emerged. In an instant, the figure's hand flicked, and the author vanished, leaving behind only the faint glow of the screen, where stories continued to unravel.
In the aftermath, the being stood in the silence of the dim room, a witness to the fragility of existence. This was merely one experience among many, a glimpse into the lives he sought to understand. He gazed at the world before him, sensing the layers of stories waiting to be explored.
With a thought, he willed himself to appear on a crowded side road. Instantly, he materialized, and the world around him buzzed with activity. People paused, staring at him in disbelief, whispering amongst themselves.
"Is he cosplaying?" one girl exclaimed, wide-eyed, her phone raised as she began to record.
"Looks like he stepped out of a fantasy movie!" another added, captivated by his ethereal attire that clung to him like shadows, shimmering with otherworldly energy.
As he scanned the crowd, a group of girls approached him, their eyes sparkling with curiosity. "You're beautiful! Do you have a girlfriend?" one asked, her voice filled with awe. Another chimed in, "Can we take a picture with you?"
The attention was overwhelming. Their admiration and questions felt foreign to him, a reflection of a world he didn't quite grasp.
He raised an eyebrow, trying to comprehend the flattery and excitement directed toward him. It was amusing, yet confusing. He felt their admiration like a tangible force, an invitation to engage, but he found himself disinterested in their world.
With a flicker of thought, he vanished again, leaving behind a crowd of bewildered faces and unanswered questions, a fleeting glimpse of a being far beyond their understanding.
This was only the beginning—a prelude to the journey that lay ahead, where power, pain, and the intricacies of life intertwined.