"Who are you?!"
He snapped into a defensive crouch, the rusty fork raised like a dagger. His eyes darted around the clearing, searching for a target, ready to plunge the dirty tines into anyone who dared approach.
[ FEAR NOT, MORTAL. ]
The voice vibrated inside his skull, echoing the same way it had during his seizure. It wasn't a hallucination.
The air in front of him shimmered. The glowing, ethereal blue rectangle materialized again, hovering at eye level. The words scrolled across the surface as the voice spoke.
"What the fuck are you?!" he roared, masking his terror with aggression.
The alien screen drifted closer, glowing with a soft, eerie hum. A chill raced down his spine.
"Stay back!"
He lunged.
With a desperate grunt, he slashed the fork through the blue light. But there was no resistance. The metal tines passed harmlessly through the hologram, slicing only empty air.
His momentum betrayed him. His weak legs tangled, and he pitched forward, face-planting into the dirt.
"Ugh..."
He scrambled into a sitting position, wiping soil from his mouth. Frustration warred with panic. What is happening to me?
He gripped the fork until his knuckles turned white. Did I wake up from a coma into a nightmare? Am I hallucinating?
No... hallucinating isn't the right word. Crazy. I've finally gone crazy.
He stared at the floating box. Unless... aliens? It made sense. The weird room. The paralysis. The voice in his head.
[ ABDUCTED? KINDA. ]
The voice sounded amused. It was mocking him.
He scrambled backward, kicking up dirt as the screen pursued him, stopping just an arm's length from his face.
"W-what are you?" His voice trembled, the bravado draining out of him. "Are you the one who brought me here?"
[ I AM ETHA. AN ENTITY CONSTRUCTED BY THE COUNCIL OF ANCIENT GODS TO MANAGE THEIR ERRANDS. ]
The text pulsed with a rhythmic light.
[ AND YES. I AM THE ONE WHO PLUCKED YOUR SOUL FROM YOUR DYING BODY AND BROUGHT YOU TO WOOLACE. ]
"W-woo... Woolace?" He frowned, the name feeling heavy and foreign on his tongue. "What is that?"
[ THE NEWEST MORTAL PLANET. IT IS... SIGNIFICANTLY FAR FROM YOUR ORIGINAL WORLD, 'EARTH'. ]
The screen floated a little higher, as if looking down on him.
[ I BROUGHT YOU HERE FOR A MISSION. SPECIAL. BUT EASY. ]
[ YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD IN YOUR ORIGINAL WORLD. YOUR BODY DIDN'T SURVIVE THAT PUNISHMENT. ]
The words hit him like a physical blow. The nightmare memory automatically replayed in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to block it out. He could still feel the phantom agony—the nerve-wracking pain inflicted on his body. He remembered his countless pleas; he had begged every saint and god he knew, but received no answer.
His body shivered in fear. He pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly as he sat in the dirt. Uncontrollable sobs shook his frame as his mind spiraled back into the darkness.
[ THAT IS THE LAST TIME YOU WILL EXPERIENCE THAT PAIN. YOU ARE NOW UNDER THE WINGS OF THE ALMIGHTY COUNCIL, AND NO ONE CAN HARM YOU AGAIN. SO HUSH NOW, TORIN HAWKE. ]
Torin Hawke.
The name was a curse. It held memories so wretched he had spent his life trying to claw them out of his mind. That was why, when he joined the gang, he had buried that name and become 'Tobey.'
Torin—the name given by the grandfather who had claimed ownership of his body, the man who had violated him countless times while he was helpless to stop it. And Hawke—a surname that represented everything evil, worthless, and abusive about his bloodline. Sometimes, he wondered how he had survived that house of horrors at all.
As soon as he was old enough, he ran. He did everything—legal and illegal—just to survive the streets. Until he fell into a gang. Until they unknowingly got a hold of his neck and he could never escape their grasp.
He had been forced to become a dog, molded into a hound, just to keep anyone from ever touching him again.
He raised his tear-drenched face toward the air where the transparent screen hovered.
"D-did I really die?"
[ YES. AND I KNOW YOU MIGHT NOT BELIEVE IT, BUT THAT IS THE TRUTH. YOU WILL ACCEPT THIS FACT EVENTUALLY. ]
"What about my girlfriend? She's pregnant with my child. How is she?"
[ SHE IS OKAY. SHE IS LIVING A NEW LIFE TOGETHER WITH HER NEW MAN. BUT DO NOT WORRY, THE CHILD IN HER WOMB IS NOT YOURS. YOU WERE JUST ONE OF THE MEN SHE SLEPT WITH—THE ONLY ONE WHO HAPPENED TO HAVE A STABLE JOB. ]
Tobey stared at the text, his breath hitching. Honestly, he didn't fully believe Etha's words at first. But then, a cold realization settled in. The doubt had always been there, buried deep down.
Anger flickered in his chest, hot and sharp. That woman... she had trapped him with responsibility. He was just the dumb man who fell into her trap. She had seduced him, and he had believed it was love. He had worked, bled, and killed to provide for a family that was never his.
So, it was all a lie.
Strangely, the anger didn't last. It was replaced by a hollow, cynical calm. If the child wasn't his, then he had left nothing behind. No legacy. No family.
I'm glad I'm no longer on Earth, he thought bitterly. Nothing for me there but pain and lies.
Tobey took a deep breath, wiping his face. The news that the child wasn't his had severed the last string holding his heart to his old life. He gathered himself, crossing his legs to sit quietly on the ground.
"Etha." He looked up at the screen. "Why are you here? And why am I here?"
He paused for a moment, inspecting the body parts he could see. He pinched his right arm hard, wincing at the sharp sting.
"Am I still alive? I feel pain."
[ WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU IS CALLED TRANSMIGRATION. I KNOW YOU DO NOT HAVE A HABIT OF READING NOVELS OR WATCHING FANTASY SHOWS, SO I WILL EXPLAIN IT SIMPLY. ]
[ AFTER EONS OF COSMIC PROCESSES, THE NEWEST HABITABLE MORTAL WORLD WAS FINALLY COMPLETED. HOWEVER, WOOLACE LACKED AN ESSENTIAL RESOURCE—MANA ENERGY. ]
The text scrolled upward, providing a stream of information.
[ All planets infused with Mana Energy fall under the jurisdiction of the Council. This ensures safety and prevents potential threats to other realms. Deities exist only in high-tier worlds where Mana flows abundantly. To prevent the enslavement of mortals in non-mana worlds, the gods are forbidden from descending here directly. ]
[ That is why the Council appoints a mortal soul. ]
The screen pulsed brighter.
[ The Council of Gods needed a mortal to serve as 'The Eye'—a living signal that affirms Woolace's existence among the higher realms. AND YOU ARE THE CHOSEN SOUL. YOU HAVE THE CHANCE TO LIVE A NEW LIFE AS THE EYE. ]
[ Your selection was purely a matter of fate. Your role is passive. You will live freely, but you must not cause chaos. Being The Eye comes with abundant benefits that you can use throughout your lifespan. ]
Tobey opened his mouth to fire a question, but the text on the screen flashed rapidly, cutting him off.
[ I KNOW WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND. DO NOT ASK ABOUT THE COUNCIL, THE ANCIENT GODS, THE UPPER REALM, DEITIES, OR ANYTHING OUTSIDE THE SCOPE OF BEING A MORTAL. ]
Tobey swallowed his words. He was curious, but he wasn't stupid. He knew the boundaries. In his old life, asking the wrong questions was the fastest way to get a bullet in the brain. If a cosmic entity told him to mind his own business, he was going to listen.
"You're right about my mission," he said, his voice raspy. "All I need to do is exist, live freely, and not cause chaos. Right?"
[ YES. SIMPLE AND EASY. ]
"About Woolace... are there any similarities or differences compared to Earth?"
[ ALL HABITABLE MORTAL WORLDS SHARE 80 TO 90% SIMILARITY. THE DIFFERENCES LIE IN HUMAN IDENTITY, LIFESTYLE, TERMINOLOGY, ARTS, AND HISTORY. ]
The screen scrolled to the next paragraph.
[ AS FOR TECHNOLOGY, WOOLACE IS IN AN ERA COMPARABLE TO YOUR EARTH. YOU WILL FIND IT FAMILIAR, THOUGH NOT IDENTICAL. ]
"So I can't find my favorite song from Earth here, but I might find something similar?"
[ CORRECT. ]
Tobey paused, thinking of what to ask next. He looked down at his hands—skeletal, pale, and trembling. He looked at the long, yellowed fingernails.
"This body," he muttered. "What is the identity of this body? What happened to him, and why is he in this state?"
[ HIS NAME WAS TIMOTHY GRAY. 28 YEARS OLD. AN ORPHAN, JUST LIKE YOU. ]
But I'm older than him, Tobey thought. I'm 41.
[ HIS STORY BEARS SIMILARITIES TO YOURS, TORIN. TIMOTHY GREW UP IN AN ABUSIVE HOUSEHOLD. HE HAD SIBLINGS, BUT FOR REASONS BEYOND HIS CONTROL, THEY HATED HIM. ]
[ HE RAN AWAY AND LIVED ON THE STREETS FOR YEARS. EVENTUALLY, HE MET DAVID, A DIVORCED MAN WHO BECAME HIS ADOPTIVE FATHER. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT—DAVID HIT TIMOTHY WITH HIS CAR. ]
[ GUILT TURNED INTO AFFECTION. DAVID GAVE HIM A HOME, AN EDUCATION, AND THE LOVE WITHHELD BY HIS BIOLOGICAL PARENTS. BUT HAPPINESS IS OFTEN SHORT-LIVED. DAVID DIED OF A HEART ATTACK. ]
Tobey listened intently, a heavy feeling settling in his chest.
[ WITHOUT DAVID'S PROTECTION, TIMOTHY WAS QUICKLY CAST OUT BY DAVID'S BIOLOGICAL CHILDREN. HE ACCEPTED HIS FATE WITHOUT A FIGHT. ]
[ HE WORKED SEVERAL JOBS JUST TO SUPPORT HIS STUDIES AND PAY BILLS, BUT HIS BODY COULD NOT ENDURE THE STRAIN. HE DROPPED OUT OF COLLEGE. HE LOST INTEREST IN THE FUTURE. HE WORKED FROM SUNRISE TO SUNSET, EXISTING LIKE A MACHINE. ]
[ THEN, HE MET A WOMAN. ]
Tobey scoffed softly. Of course.
[ SHE BECAME HIS WORLD. BUT WHEN SHE BROKE UP WITH HIM, IT SHATTERED THE LAST PILLAR OF HIS WILL. HE LOST THE MOTIVATION TO CONTINUE LIVING. ]
[ HE LEFT HIS RENTED APARTMENT AND WALKED FOR DAYS UNTIL HE FOUND THIS ABANDONED SHACK IN THE WOODS. HE LOCKED HIMSELF INSIDE AND DECIDED TO WAIT FOR DEATH TO KNOCK ON HIS DOOR. ]
Tobey faked a dry cough and stood up with care, trying to mask the sudden, sharp pity he felt for the boy whose skin he now wore.
I thought I was the only one, he thought bitterly. I thought I was the only one who had to deal with hollow, worthless parents.
"W-we aren't the same. Not totally," Tobey rasped, his voice shaking. He looked up at the sky, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from spilling over. "Timothy didn't lose his way. He stayed good... while I took the wrong path. But in the end, he lost his will to live while I was still fighting tooth and nail for mine. Different paths, same destination. Death. So, we aren't totally the same."
He turned away from the shimmering screen and walked back toward the porch of the shack, sitting heavily as his skeletal legs gave out.
Suddenly, it wasn't just a story anymore.
The memories of Timothy Gray surged in like a violent tide, and it broke Tobey's heart. He saw the world through the eyes of a small, lonely boy—a journey of isolation in a harsh, uncaring society. He saw the few moments of light Timothy had found, only for them to be snatched away by death and betrayal.
Tobey leaned forward, burying his face in his bony hands, and sobbed. He didn't just feel sorry for Timothy; he felt a fierce, protective bond snap into place. Automatically, he felt like the older brother Timothy never had.
I'm proud of you, Tim, he thought through the heaviness in his chest. You did your best. You're not alone anymore. I'm here.
He raised his face, his eyes red and raw, and looked at the empty air where the screen had hovered.
"He deserved better," Tobey said, his voice now hardened with a new kind of resolve. "If I'm the one who has to stay in this body... if I'm 'The Eye'... then I'll do it. For him."