Micafer's vision was first a blur, then gradually sharpened with a few slow blinks. As the world came into focus, he realized he was lying in a four-cornered structure—beautifully adorned, almost regal in appearance. Gold and silver flowers surrounded him like a noble laid to rest.
A casket.
He hissed in irritation.
"Typical. No room, no ceremony—just a casket left for me. Don't those two have any taste?"
Like a corpse stirred back to life, sweat broke across his skin. The heat beneath him was suffocating.
"Tch... How do I get out?" he thought, squirming, trying to push open the casket, but the weight of sand opposed him. His memory was still reassembling itself like a half-finished painting.
Then a flicker of excitement lit his mind.
My other rewards.
Perhaps something among them could help.
He closed his eyes and dove deeper—past his thoughts, into his heart, and down into the very core of his being.
Then… a jolt.
Though his physical eyes remained shut, within himself he now stood—upright, suspended in a void. Space stretched endlessly around him, stars glittering in the distance. No ground, no sky—just infinite stillness.
He was surprised and, at the same time, amused.
"Is… is this my core?" he whispered quietly. His voice echoed out into the vast expanse. Studying the void further, his gaze skipped below him.
Below, a temple-like structure hovered in the vast emptiness—sharp and large, its design like that of a Roman Catholic church: ornate and adorable. With no hesitation, he drifted toward it like a ghost. Curiosity loomed in him—it was the only building around.
As he reached the entrance, the doors opened soundlessly, responding to his presence. Inside, the temple appeared far smaller than it had from the outside. Only four pillars stood in a square enclosed by walls—but their shadows moved with eerie sentience, more alive than stone.
As Micafer stepped forward, the shadows shifted.
They converged at a single point, overlapping and twisting together. From their union emerged a humanoid form composed entirely of living darkness. Its build was dark as shadow but unalterably sharp, kneeling with head bowed low.
Its voice echoed—reverent, hollow.
"Welcome, my lord. Your visit honors this temple."
Micafer's curiosity surged, but he masked it with a composed step forward.
"Explain yourself," he said coolly.
The shadow-creature slithered closer, its limbs elongating and rippling like smoke. Though shaped like a man, it moved like night itself—shifting, formless, dangerous.
"I am Black," it said, voice like distant thunder. "Guardian of this temple, which houses your core."
Before it could continue, Micafer interjected.
"If my core is here, then what is this surrounding void?"
"Let me show you," Black replied—and walked through the left wall as if it didn't exist.
Micafer's brow furrowed. His thoughts swayed between caution and wonder.
"That explains why it looked smaller inside. These walls are just illusions for protection."
A moment of hesitation—but he followed.
Beyond the illusory wall lay a greater chamber. At its far end stood an altar-like structure made of twisted black and white materials. At its center rested a divine pedestal, cradling a swirling sphere—half dark, half light—his core. Its presence was absolute.
Black stopped.
"This is as far as we may go without triggering a defensive mutation from the core," he explained. "The void itself is formed and sustained by your core's power. Your abilities lie dormant within it."
Micafer stepped a bit farther than Black, feeling the invisible, thick but stretchy wall that protected the core. Still stunned, Black's words stirred memory—and urgency. He had a grave to escape, and power to understand.
So this whole void is just my essence? It looked infinite… Micafer's thoughts raced.
Then, focusing on the present,
"How do I access my abilities?" he asked.
"You may summon a material description using a direct command to your core," Black replied.
Vague—but enough.
Micafer raised his head and spoke clearly:
"Stats."
A smoky black screen formed in the air. White script carved itself across it. Micafer ignored all distractions, eyes fixed as he began to read:
---
[STATS]
Name: Micafer
Divine Name: Shadow God
---
He nodded slowly, recalling the promised divine name. But something didn't add up.
What does a title like that have to do with godhood? Am I not still human?
He narrowed his gaze in thought.
"Not exactly a likely outcome for a beggar like me…"
Still, he continued reading.
---
Divine Name Description:
A title bestowed upon a mortal of undefined alignment—neither good nor evil. It grants the potential to ascend to the rank of a true god.
---
Micafer let out a quiet scoff.
"To the level of a god, huh?"
Despite his doubt, a sly smile curled on his lips.
---
Core Type: Veil Core
---
He glanced toward the swirling orb in the distance and smirked.
"Probably a core of both light and darkness."
He quite understood what Veil Core meant, so he went on reading.
---
Core Strength: 7.0
Core Strength Description:
Core strength is a numerical representation of the moral and spiritual alignment of a soul, measured on a divine scale.
The scale ranges from 1 to 14:
1–6 signify increasing levels of goodness.
8–14 signify growing corruption or darkness.
7—a perfect balance—signifies a Veil Core, an anomaly neither Light nor Dark can claim.
---
"So I don't need to start offering charity to grow stronger, nor commit atrocities to gain power," he murmured.
"My power isn't about piety or blood—it's about balance."
---
Divine Ranking: Veil King
---
Shouldn't that be my title? he thought, and requested a description.
---
Divine Ranking Description:
Divine rankings are based on core type. For a Veil Core, four ranks exist:
Wanderer Knight, Veil King, Archshadow, Veil God.
---
Micafer sank to his knees, overwhelmed.
"Veil God… that's real. I have the potential to claim a seat among gods!"
But as despair surfaced, so too did resolve.
He clenched his fists.
"I won't live a lowly life—not with this second chance."
With purpose burning behind his eyes, he read on.
---
Divine Presence: 2000 / 10000
Divine Presence Description:
A measure of spiritual energy tied to your current divine rank. Expressed as current access / maximum potential.
---
"So as a Veil King, I've unlocked two thousand… ten thousand is the peak."
He smirked.
"I'm coming."
---
Divine Aspect: Shadow Cells
---
"Hm." He quickly summoned the description.
---
Divine Aspect Description:
Shadow Cells: Every fragment of shadow is a part of your body—and your body can become any shadow.
---
Micafer's eyebrows rose.
Does that mean I'm… shadow itself?
As if summoned by thought, Black answered.
"Divine Aspects can alter reality. On Earth, all shadows have awakened because of you. You can now communicate with them—and become one with them."
A chill ran through him.
"What have I become? That's… that's like being omnipresent…"
---
Back in the physical realm, Micafer's lungs burned. Air was nearly gone.
Snapping back to his body, he acted.
Eyes closed, he listened—reaching out with his senses. Shadows responded. He felt them above, near the surface. From their orientation, he realized he wasn't in a cemetery—but in a garden beside a mansion.
He focused on the gravestone's shadow—and with a whisper of will, he became it. And from it—he formed.
Fresh air poured into his lungs as he emerged. A smile crept onto his face. Even the moonlight felt pleasing on his skin. The scents of grass and night swirled around him. The wind itself felt like a divine blessing.
"I'm alive!"
But one question lingered as his gaze caught his neat skin.
Whose body is this?
He turned to the gravestone. As expected, a name was engraved on it.
Gorge Christ.
"Rest in peace, young man," Micafer said solemnly.
The mansion beside him shimmered with wealth, but stirred no desire in him. He glanced back at the casket and its treasures—but felt unmoved.
I've never been one to covet.
He lifted his eyes, surveying the landscape. In the distance, a towering wall of pristine white loomed—so vast, its edges vanished beyond the horizon.
"That wall... it feels like a shield against Hell itself," he mocked with a playful tune.
His eyes caught a pool of water nearby. Curious, he approached it—wanting to see what he now looked like.
Reflected back was a young man with gray hair, sharp eyes, and a noble visage. He didn't appear sickly or lifeless—no signs of death lingered on him.
He judged his height and smirked.
"Five foot nine. Once again, I escape the curse of shortness."
He stared into his own eyes for a long moment.
"Everything's changed. Almost everything…"
Then, a reflection in the water caught his eye—a flare of flame.
He snapped his gaze upward.
From the sky descended a blazing object, like a meteoroid wreathed in fire. Its tail sliced the heavens like a sword of light. It fell faster than gravity should allow—hurled by intent, not chance.
"What in the worlds is that? Do higher realms bring higher troubles, too?"
He squared his shoulders, eyes gleaming with challenge.
"Let's see what this so-called higher realm is really about."