“I am the god of wrath, the raging fire within…”
Darkness had fallen.
The world as we know it is no more.
It had left a void, hollow and still, where once dreams were made in golden light.
Yet, deep within the heart of a god, hope remained.
A great light was born.
It began filling everything, blinding and all-consuming, until it faded away.
Then, there was dawn.
The sun rose once again, just as it had so many times before.
And beneath it, emerging from the deep blue sea, was the great island.
At its highest peak, a small temple lay among the ancient stone. A shrine, with torches burning all around, where a strange ceremony was taking place.
The ones who worshipped there appeared humanoid, though they bore little resemblance to ordinary men. Their bloated fish heads glistened under the morning sun, and scales covered their pale skin. They stood by the thousands, armed and arranged in battle-like formations, their glassy fish eyes fixed on the altar that awaited atop a flight of stairs.
The sea whispered below, restless and deep, and the torches crackled softly in the mountain winds.
It had always begun this way.
“All hail his divine majesty!” one of the worshippers cried, raising his scaled arms high.
The others joined in almost instantly, thousands of voices rising and falling together.
All hail his divine majesty!
All hail his divine majesty!
All hail his divine majesty!
They repeated the chant, again and again. Their unblinking, glassy eyes remained fixed on a single point: the altar atop the stone stairs.
The chanting faltered when a shadow shifted.
A figure rose.
Slowly, with measured steps, the figure descended toward the altar.
The worshippers fell silent. The only sound was the soft slap of bare feet against stone.
“I am fate, bringer of life and death…” the figure announced, its voice higher than expected but with a tone of forced authority.
The torchlight revealed him fully now: a boy, no older than ten.
His frame was delicate, almost fragile, dressed in a white toga that seemed too large. A crown of leaves sat crookedly on his head, the edges browned and wilted. He tugged at it absently, scratching his scalp as if the thing had been bothering him for some time.
He approached the altar—a simple stone slab. At its center lay a silver plate, covered with a tarnished lid. He stared at it for a long moment.
“All-knowing, all-powerful…” he muttered, but the words sounded tired, almost rehearsed.
With a deep sigh, he pushed the lid aside.
He stared down, expression blank.
“But, of course,” he whispered. “Nothing ever goes my way.”
The worshippers tensed, watching him with wide, unblinking eyes. One among them—taller, robed, and adorned with shells and bones—stepped forward, bowing deeply.
“Glory to the Dawn-Born, bringer of first light!” the shaman proclaimed. “Praise to him who rises with the sun—the divine child-god, Bae!”
The others answered in perfect rhythm.
Long may he reign!
Long may he reign!
Long may he reign!
Bae raised a hand, waving lazily. “Alright, alright, enough!” he snapped. “Quiet down! I need a minute to think.”
The crowd stilled immediately.
The shaman stepped once more, head bowed so low his fish-like face nearly touched the ground.
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“The eternal child-god graces us with his presence. Surely, he is pleased with our humble offering?”
Bae pulled the crown from his head, scratching furiously at his scalp. The crown had clearly been irritating him for some time.
“Ugh, this thing! Do you have any idea how itchy this is? You’d think divine craftsmanship would be more comfortable.”
He then fixed the shaman with a flat stare.
“Is that so? Pleased?” He barked a dry laugh. “Oh, sure. Absolutely thrilled.”
His gaze dropped to the silver plate.
“Except I’m not. Because you idiots seem to forget something pretty important...”
He leaned forward, his voice lowering.
“I’m a god. I know everything.” He tapped his temple for emphasis. “Do you get what that means? It means I knew exactly what was under that lid before I even thought of lifting it. No surprises here.”
He straightened, glowering at the plate.
“And this... What the hell is this?!”
On the plate lay a freshly caught fish, glistening, its eye glassy and lifeless.
The shaman lifted his gaze, just enough to see the offering.
"O-oh mighty one, it is our most sacred gift—"
“A fish?” Bae cut him off. “A dead fish? Really? Out of everything—this is what you came up with?”
He turned, addressing the entire crowd now, arms stretched wide.
“Hey, everyone, big surprise—they brought me a fish!”
The worshippers remained still. Silent. Watching.
Bae’s smile faded. His arms dropped.
“Oh, right. Forgot. You don’t laugh. Or speak. Or do anything interesting.”
He turned back to the shaman, waving dismissively at the plate.
The shaman, in return, trembled, his voice barely above a whisper.
“W-we believed...” he began, swallowing hard. “The Dawn-Born would appreciate a gift of our own... flesh and blood. Such offerings have always pleased the divine. Our ancestors gave of themselves to prove loyalty and devotion. What greater gift exists than a part of our own being?”
Bae stared at him for a long moment, then looked back at the plate one last time. He sighed, deep and weary.
“You people are making me sick.”
With a snort of disgust, he threw the crown onto the altar, where it landed beside the dead fish.
“D-does our gift displease his divine majesty?” the shaman stammered. Then, turning to the crowd, he declared:
“The great child-god disapproves of our offering!”
Panic erupted.
The worshippers began to wail, a shrill, haunting sound that echoed through the island.
They slapped their fish faces with webbed hands, some dropping to their knees, others gripping their heads, rocking back and forth.
“Oh, no! The child-god is angry!”
“Forgive us, lord!”
“We shall prepare a sacrifice worthy of your being!”
Bae lifted a hand.
“No, I just don’t like—”
“WE SHALL PREPARE A SACRIFICE WORTHY OF YOUR BEING!” the crowd screamed.
“Stop it!” Bae growled. “You’re gonna kill yourselves!”
But it was too late.
The worshippers turned on each other—frenzied, clawing, shrieking. Chaos unfolded.
Bae sighed, his eyes closing in weary resignation.
With a snap of his fingers, the sky darkened.
A volcano erupted nearby—roaring, spewing molten rock. Ash and smoke choked the sky.
The screams faded into silence.
Darkness fell once more.
My name is Bae.
This is my world.
I’ve been stuck on this island for as long as I can remember.
Marooned. Forgotten.
Left here by the so-called grand design of existence.
You’d think being a god would come with some clarity.
Some answers.
But I’ve spent ages wrestling with the same question.
Why?
What’s it all for?
What’s the point of it all?
From the very beginning, it’s baffled me.
I kept thinking, maybe there was some grand truth out there.
Something that would finally make it all make sense.
But every time I thought I was getting close, every single time…
I’d just end up back where I started. Over and over again.
And after a while... well, that can make you feel very lonely...
“You’re nothing!”
His shout echoed across the barren island. The earth itself seemed to flinch at the sound, but the figures standing in perfect lines did not.
“Worthless! Empty shells! Mindless heaps of hot garbage!”
Rows upon rows of humanoid beings stood motionless under the pale sky. Their bloated fish heads glistened dully, their unblinking eyes, glassy and vacant, seemed to stare right through him.
“You’re just gonna stand there?” Bae scowled, fists clenching at his sides. “Say something you hypocrites!”
Nothing.
Not a flinch. Not a sound.
His gaze fell to the ground. A rock lay there. Rough, jagged. He picked it up, feeling its weight.
“I made you...” His voice faltered. “I made you to be more than this!”
Then, without warning, he hurled it forward with all his strength.
The stone whistled through the air and struck the front row of figures. It tore through them like paper. Bodies crumpled, collapsing in hollow heaps against the stone ground.
Bae stood still. He waited, watching the dust settle around the fallen bodies.
One figure remained standing.
The light from the sun caught the curve of its bloated fish head, the glassy sheen of its vacant eyes. A thin stream of blood ran down its forehead, trickling over its rubbery skin
It didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
It just smiled. And stared. Straight at him.
Bae swallowed, his throat dry.
His lips parted, and when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.
“I... I hate you.”
He stepped forward, trembling. The tears finally came.
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
His voice shattered into echoes—raw and desperate.
The other figures just stood there. Smiling. Watching.
It didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered.
A long, hollow sigh escaped him.
With a slow, almost lazy motion, he raised his hand.
Snap.
The sound echoed like a closing door.
From the horizon, the sea stirred. A shadow rose—a wall of water, towering and dark, dragging the sky down with it.
It came fast. Furious. An unstoppable force.
Bae didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just watched.
The wave reflected in his eyes—empty eyes.
The roar became deafening.
And then—
Silence.
I need someone who can understand. Someone like me, but... different.
Bae stared at the silver plate, his faint reflection staring back from its polished surface. His fingers drummed idly against the cold stone of the altar.
“Not another mindless worshipper,” he muttered. “Not these hollow shells. They don’t get it. They never did.”
He ran a hand through his hair, still itchy where the crown had rested. “They only see what I am, not who I am.”
His fingers tapped against the stone. The idea lingered, sharp and clear.
Someone like me. But different. Different enough to matter.
A slow breath. A moment of stillness.
Then, suddenly, he snapped his fingers. The air stirred.
“Time to try something new.”
And for the first time in a long while, Bae wasn’t entirely sure what would happen next.