The sky over Eldoria dimmed to a melancholy shade of lavender as Jin walked through the cobbled streets, his boots tapping in rhythm with the heartbeat of this quiet, unknown world. The air was crisp, tinged with the scent of old paper and rain-kissed stone. The city, with its winding alleys and spires laced with ivy, was unlike anything he had ever seen—even in the long span of realities he had traversed.
He had spent days now with Steve, pouring over old mythos in musty libraries and hidden archives beneath crumbling cathedrals. Together, they chased whispers of the dark prophecy etched into that haunting painting. Yet for all their research, answers only twisted further out of reach, like smoke through desperate fingers.
Today, however, Jin walked alone. Steve had gone to question an old folklorist near the east docks. Jin needed air, and more than that—silence. There was a tension in him, a weight that even his godhood could not lift. In this world there is no gates no Titans, Giants, Conspiracy even he didn't feel the presence of monarchs or Overlords. But more importantly
"I am enjoying this life."
And yet, the myth never truly left him.
As he passed a small bookstore nestled between two weatherworn cafés, something caught his eye. Or rather—someone.
A girl.
She stood at the edge of the sidewalk, her back to the road. Her golden hair shimmered beneath the soft amber glow of a streetlamp, tied loosely behind her with a velvet ribbon. She wore a long tan coat, slightly too big, and glasses that perched delicately on her nose. Her hands were folded, clutching a notebook to her chest as she stared up at a mural painted on the side of the bookstore.
The mural depicted a garden—withered, eternal—where an angel cried over a pond filled with shadows instead of water.
Jin's steps slowed, instinct prickling the nape of his neck.
Golden hair. Golden eyes.
He couldn't see her face clearly. But something about her presence struck him—like a phantom from a dream he had long forgotten.
A name stirred.
Velka?
But no… it couldn't be. He had buried that part of him beneath days and stars.
He began to turn away.
Then it happened.
A sound—rubber screeching against pavement. A metallic shriek of brakes failing. Jin's head snapped around.
A delivery truck, careening out of control, was veering toward the sidewalk. Toward her.
People screamed. Time felt like glass—shattering into a thousand moments.
And she didn't move. She just stood there, frozen in shock, eyes wide behind her glasses.
Jin vanished.
A breath.
Then he was in front of her, hand outstretched. The world slowed to a crawl. Particles of dust hung in the air like motes of stardust. The truck, still hurtling forward, blurred in his peripheral vision.
With a whisper of thought, he bent causality around them. Reality buckled like ripples across silk. The truck slammed into a wall of halted possibility—frozen mid-impact, its momentum devoured into nothingness.
The girl gasped, stumbling back into Jin's arms.
Silence returned like the hush after a storm.
People clapped. Some ran over to check the driver. But Jin… he was staring at her.
Her glasses had fallen off. And for the first time, he saw her eyes.
Golden.
Not just the color of gold, but the hue of memory—of fields once walked beneath twin moons, of laughter shared in gardens that no longer bloomed. Her lips parted slightly, trembling.
Jin took a step back, his breath caught in his throat.
"I… I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't see it coming. I…"
"What's your name?" Jin asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
She hesitated. "Rury. Rury Eliah."
He didn't respond.
He couldn't.
That night, they sat beneath the old clocktower's shadow. Jin had offered to walk her home, and she agreed. They didn't talk much. The air between them was thick with something unspoken. Something ancient.
Rury smiled faintly, fingers brushing her coat's lapel. "You saved me today."
Jin looked away. "You didn't need saving. Just… a moment's pause."
She studied him quietly. "Are you a mythologist too?"
He nodded. "I suppose I am. But sometimes myths find me before I find them."
She laughed, a sound that pulled at his heart. "That's such a strange thing to say."
Jin smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
In the reflection of a shop window, he glanced sideways—and for just a heartbeat, he didn't see Rury's reflection.
He saw Velka.
Eyes hollow with betrayal. Hair soaked from rain. A pendant clutched in trembling hands.
He blinked—and it was gone. Rury looked at him curiously.
"Something wrong?"
"No," he whispered. "Not yet."
But something had begun to unravel.
In the far hills of Eldoria, a garden long forgotten bloomed under moonlight. A girl stood among the wildflowers, her hands clasped, her eyes closed—as if praying to a god that no longer existed.
Her name was Velka.
And she had been waiting for Jin all along.