The Gods Knows How

Rachel sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the half-packed suitcase in front of her.

She let out a long sigh. "Alright, let's get this over with."

Her movements were quick and efficient—uniform, extra clothes, combat gear, a few essentials. Nothing too dramatic, just the basics. She wasn't the type to overpack, nor did she have much to bring in the first place.

After stuffing in a few last items, she zipped up the suitcase, stretched her arms, and exhaled. "Finally done."

She glanced at the clock. Way past midnight.

Rachel flopped onto her bed, exhaustion settling in. The room was quiet, the only sound was the faint hum of the city outside her window.

Finally, after what felt like a century, Rachel zipped up her suitcase and collapsed onto her bed.

Her body ached, her brain was fried, and she wanted nothing more than to pass out.

But then… she remembered something.

Slowly, her eyes narrowed.

She turned her head, glaring daggers at the empty space above her.

Rachel sat on her bed, fists clenched, glaring murderously at the air in front of her.

She had tried everything. Meditation, deep breathing, focusing energy, chanting ancient-sounding words, staring intensely into the mirror like some kind of possessed lunatic—NOTHING.

Her so-called Divine Eye of the Void, the mysterious, god-tier, universal anomaly that was supposed to shake the heavens and make cosmic entities tremble, had refused to show her even a single damn ability.

And she was done.

Rachel jabbed a furious finger at the mirror.

"You. Me. Right now. We're having a conversation."

Her ocean-blue eyes narrowed, locking onto her reflection.

"You were supposed to be the ultimate power. A force so terrifying that even celestial beings would shudder at my presence. BUT GUESS WHAT?!"

She threw her hands in the air, rage intensifying.

"I STILL CAN'T EVEN LIGHT A CANDLE WITH YOU!"

Rachel inhaled sharply, gritting her teeth.

"I have awakened you, tried to connect with you, meditated, focused, whispered your name like some desperate worshipper in a cult—AND STILL?!"

She let out a loud, dramatic groan and collapsed face-first onto her bed.

"WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME? BLOOD? A SOUL SACRIFICE?! A FORMAL INVITATION WITH GOLDEN EDGES?!"

She bolted upright, her face twisted with betrayal.

"DO I HAVE TO WRITE YOU A POETIC LOVE LETTER FOR YOU TO WORK?!"

She gasped suddenly, eyes widening.

"...Is that it? Are you one of those ancient artifacts that need emotional validation before activating?"

She put a hand over her heart, dramatically.

"Oh Divine Eye of the Void, my dearest companion, my ever-faithful partner, I long for the day when you will grant me even a single ounce of your strength—"

Silence.

The Eye did nothing.

Rachel's eye twitched.

"Okay, you know what? Screw you."

She waved her hands like a deranged prophet, addressing the unseen forces of the cosmos.

"I CAN'T EVEN ACCESS A SINGLE ABILITY! NOTHING! IT'S ALL 'ERROR THIS' AND 'UNKNOWN THAT!' AT THIS POINT, I THINK EVEN A BROKEN SMARTPHONE GIVES MORE INFORMATION THAN YOU DO!"

She grabbed a pillow and hurled it across the room, hitting the wall with a disappointing 'poof.'

The Veil Interface remained silent.

Rachel's rage intensified.

She leaped onto her bed, pointing at the ceiling like some kind of furious deity issuing a decree of doom.

"Alright, you cosmic scam artist! You, yes YOU, the 'great and mighty' Veil Interface! And YOU, the 'legendary' Divine Eye of the Void—both of you are absolutely, positively, without a single doubt, the biggest frauds I've ever seen in my entire life!"

She dramatically threw a pillow at the air, pretending it was the Veil Interface itself.

It landed with a soft thud.

No response.

Rachel's eye twitched.

"Oh? Silent treatment now, huh? Is that it?! YOU HAD SO MUCH TO SAY WHEN YOU WERE SCREAMING ABOUT WORLD-ENDING HORRORS! WHERE'S THAT ENERGY NOW?!"

She grabbed another pillow and hurled it across the room, her rage knowing no bounds.

Still. Nothing.

She threw her arms in the air."YOU'RE NOT A DIVINE EYE—YOU'RE A DECORATIVE ORNAMENT! A FANCY CONTACT LENS! A GLORIFIED ACCESSORY!"

Rachel dramatically collapsed onto her bed, arms spread out, defeated by her own existence.She punched the air, swinging like a lunatic in a one-sided boxing match with fate itself.

"DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW

FRUSTRATING THIS IS?!"

She pulled at her hair.

"I LITERALLY HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO USE YOU! IT'S LIKE HAVING A MILLION-DOLLAR CAR BUT THE KEYS ARE IN ANOTHER DIMENSION! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? HOTWIRE MY OWN EYEBALL?!"

She paused.

Then, as if the realization suddenly struck her—her fury escalated to a new level.

"OH MY GOD—EVEN THE VEIL INTERFACE IS USELESS! HOW IS IT THAT THE ONLY TIME YOU TALK TO ME IS WHEN YOU WANT TO GIVE ME NIGHTMARE FUEL?! WHERE ARE YOU NOW, HUH? WHY CAN'T I GET A SINGLE STRAIGHT ANSWER FROM YOU?!"

she turned her fury to the Veil Interface, pointing at the air like she was scolding an invisible child. "YOU WERE SO LOUD BEFORE! 'OH NO, RACHEL, YOU'RE DOOMED, THE COSMOS IS TREMBLING, THE ABYSS IS STARING AT YOU, OH WOE IS ME!'"

She flailed her arms dramatically.

"BUT NOW?! WHEN I NEED ACTUAL ANSWERS?! DEAD SILENCE! WHERE ARE YOU NOW, HUH?! DID YOU LOSE YOUR VOICE? C'MON, SAY SOMETHING, YOU COWARD!"

Nothing.

"OH, YOU WANNA PLAY THE QUIET GAME? FINE!" Rachel shouted. "She grabbed her blanket and violently threw it over herself, mumbling furiously.

She leaned forward, whispering darkly.

"I swear, if I ever find out who programmed you, I'm going to personally throw them into a black hole."

Her eyes fluttered, sleep slowly creeping in. But she wasn't done. Not yet.

"…And to all of you divine, celestial, cosmic whatever beings out there watching me struggle—" her voice trailed off into a yawn, her anger melting into drowsiness.

"…ruined… my life…"

Rachel's body relaxed, her breathing slowing, her mind drifting into unconsciousness.

Her last thought?

I bet they're all laughing at me right now…

And just like that, she succumbed to sleep—defeated, humiliated.

______________________

The vast expanse of the cosmos stretched endlessly—an abyss of eternal night, where distant stars flickered like dying embers. Here, time had no meaning. It neither moved forward nor stood still; it simply existed, vast and indifferent.

And in the heart of this endless dark, a lone figure floated.

His body remained suspended, unmoving, untouched by gravity or the passing of ages. His clothes, once pure white, were now stained with dried blood, torn in places where old wounds had long since healed. Simple clothes—nothing adorned with jewels, no divine robes, just a plain white outfit that had seen far too much.

Then—his eyes opened.

They were not the golden, radiant orbs of a celestial being. No, they were just eyes—deep, dark, utterly human. But something lurked within them, an unfathomable depth that sent a shiver through the very fabric of existence. It was the kind of gaze that made one feel small, as if standing before an abyss that stared back.

For a long moment, he simply stared ahead, his breath slow, his expression unreadable.

Then, in the crushing silence, a voice—**low, deep, unshaken by time—**broke through.

"How long has it been?"

The words carried a strange weight, as if they themselves had traveled across time to be spoken. He raised a hand, flexing his fingers, feeling the stiffness of muscles that had been still for far too long.

"A year? A decade? Or… perhaps a century?"

There was no one to answer. The void around him remained indifferent.

A small, amused smirk flickered across his lips—one of dry humor rather than genuine mirth.

"Knowing my luck," he muttered, his deep voice rolling through the emptiness like distant thunder, "it's probably longer."

He let out a slow breath, watching as it vanished into the nothingness before him.

The man tilted his head slightly, his dark gaze piercing through the endless void. A pull—faint yet unmistakable—called to him, whispering through the fabric of existence like a long-forgotten melody. It was not forceful, not urgent, but persistent—a thread of familiarity woven into the vast, unknowable expanse.

It was his homeworld.

The realization settled in his chest like a quiet storm, stirring something deep within him—a pang of nostalgia laced with trepidation. It had been too long. Time had shifted, fractured, and blurred beyond his understanding. How much had changed? How much had remained the same?

He could have answered the call immediately.

But he didn't.

Instead, something else caught his attention.

A presence. Distant. Faint. Almost unnoticeable, like a whisper lost in the wind. Yet, it called to him. A voice without words, a beckoning without force. It was not the pull of his home—it was something else.

He narrowed his eyes.

For the briefest moment, he considered ignoring it, pushing it aside in favor of returning to where he belonged. But… curiosity was an old friend. And if something was reaching out to him, something that wasn't his homeworld—then what exactly was it?

He let himself go.

With a single thought, he vanished from the void, slipping between the unseen cracks of reality.

The world he arrived in was… wrong.

It wasn't darkness, nor was it light. It was fragmented, distorted—a realm that twisted and folded upon itself in ways that defied comprehension. Crimson mist curled through the air, thick and suffocating, humming with an energy that felt… ancient.

It was a place that should not exist.

The very ground beneath him—if it could even be called that—was unstable, shifting with each step, like walking on the edge of a dream. The sky was fractured, split into jagged pieces that floated apart yet never fully separated. Strange, flickering symbols pulsed in the air, vanishing as quickly as they appeared.

It was a realm of contradictions—silent yet screaming, empty yet suffocating.

And then, he felt it.

A presence.

Not the one that had pulled him here.

Something else.

Something familiar.

A figure stood in the distance, cloaked in the same eerie, crimson mist that clung to the realm. Its form was vague, shifting between solid and intangible, as if reality itself was unsure whether it should exist.

The man's lips curved into a small, knowing smirk. "So… it's you."

The figure didn't move at first. Then, slowly, it turned to face him.

Eyes of molten gold met his own, filled with unreadable depth. The kind of gaze that saw through things rather than at them. The expression on the figure's face was neither friendly nor hostile, neither welcoming nor rejecting.

Simply… knowing.

The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.

And then,

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

The voice was layered, echoing as if spoken by many, yet by none at all.

The man exhaled softly, shaking his head.

"Of course. Of all places, it had to be you."

The figure chuckled, the sound reverberating unnaturally through the broken realm. "Time is a fragile thing, my friend. For you, it's been an eternity. For me, merely the blink of an eye."

A shadow of something unreadable flickered across the man's expression, but he masked it with a casual shrug.

"Still as cryptic as ever, huh?"

The figure's lips curled into an almost-smile.

"And you're still pretending you don't care."

The man's smirk twitched. "Tch. Here we go again."