Whispers of Divinity

Haruki’s breath came in slow, controlled inhales as he pressed his back against the cold steel of the warehouse shelving. His fingers hovered near the knife strapped to his side, but he knew better than to use it unless absolutely necessary. A single wrong move and he’d be dead before he even saw Aoi again.

Somewhere in this facility, she was still alive. She had to be.

His mind replayed the betrayal over and over, Kisaragi’s cold gaze, the way his voice hadn’t wavered when he cut them all down. He had never doubted him before. Not once. But now, the knife of that trust buried deep in his back was what kept him moving.

Something in the air shifted.

Haruki’s breath hitched, a strange sensation crawling down his spine. The room seemed darker, even though the floodlights hadn’t changed. The air felt heavier. The shadows stretched just a little too far, twisting unnaturally along the warehouse walls.

Then—

A voice.

Soft, deep, and ancient.

“You have been abandoned.”

Haruki’s entire body tensed, his grip tightening around the knife’s handle. His gaze flicked from corner to corner, searching for the source of the voice. Nothing. The room was empty except for him.

His heartbeat quickened. This was different. This wasn’t just the paranoia that came with sneaking through enemy territory.

This was something else.

“You trusted them, and they slaughtered your friends. And now, you stand alone.”

Haruki swallowed hard, his pulse roaring in his ears. His breath came in sharp, uneven exhales.

"Who’s there?" His voice was steady, despite the way his instincts screamed at him to run.

“I am what remains. What has always been.”

A flicker of movement in the corner of his vision. His head snapped to the side, and—

A figure stood before him.

No sound, no warning.

Just there.

Haruki’s grip on the knife turned white-knuckled.

The figure wasn’t human. Not entirely.

Tall. Draped in flowing robes of ink-black smoke, shifting like liquid darkness. Its face was obscured beneath a hood, but something shimmered beneath the fabric—a hint of eyes, burning like dying stars.

Haruki’s breath hitched. This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

"You’re not real," he said, voice low.

The god tilted its head ever so slightly.

“I am as real as the rage burning inside you.”

Haruki’s jaw clenched. "I don’t have time for this."

He turned to move, but—

The shadows reached for him.

His body froze. Not physically—he could still move—but something deeper than that, something buried in the marrow of his bones, told him that if he turned his back, he would never be the same again.

“You are not ready to face them.”

A scoff left Haruki’s lips. "Then I’ll die trying."

The god did not react. It simply stood there, as if it had all the time in the world.

“You do not understand. You were chosen. Your suffering has led you to me.”

Haruki narrowed his eyes. "Chosen for what?"

“To end this.”

For the first time since the figure appeared, silence stretched between them.

Haruki stared, his body on edge, every muscle coiled tight. "What are you talking about?"

The god took a slow step forward, though its form never truly seemed to touch the ground.

“They will never stop.”

A cold weight settled in Haruki’s chest.

“Kisaragi. Kain. The ones who play god while the world crumbles. They will take everything from you.”

Haruki’s fingers twitched around the knife. "They already have."

The god tilted its head again, the shadows around it rippling.

“Then take it back.”

Something in the way it spoke, the sheer force behind the words, sent a shiver down his spine.

Haruki had spent his entire life running on borrowed time. He had nothing left but vengeance.

But the god wasn’t done yet.

“I can give you the strength to destroy them.”

Haruki’s breath stalled.

It was a trap. It had to be.

Deals like this never ended well.

And yet—

He thought of Aoi. Of the others. Of the blood pooling beneath their bodies.

If he had been stronger, if he had been faster—

Would they still be alive?

The god took another step forward.

“You have been abandoned by this world. Let me make you something greater.”

Haruki’s heart pounded in his chest. He could feel it now—power. It was right there, just out of reach, like a fire waiting to consume him whole.

It would be so easy to say yes.

To burn everything to the ground.

To make them all pay.

But deep inside, something still held him back.

The last fragment of himself that wasn’t a weapon.

The last part of him that was still human.

His voice came out quiet. "And what do you get?"

For the first time, the god smiled. Not with lips, not with flesh, but with something unseen, something that sent ice through Haruki’s veins.

“Your soul is already fractured. It belongs to me, whether you accept it or not.”

Haruki exhaled shakily, his thoughts running wild.

This wasn’t a choice.

It never had been.

The god was simply waiting for him to break.

To give in.

Haruki closed his eyes.

Then he did something he never expected.

He stepped back.

"I don’t need your power."

The god did not react. It simply observed.

Then, slowly, it began to fade.

“We shall see.”

The air shifted, the darkness lifting, the unnatural weight in the room dissolving like smoke.

Haruki was alone once more.

His pulse was still racing, his mind reeling. But he didn’t have time to dwell on what had just happened.

Because outside, in the distance, he heard it.

A scream.

Aoi.

And just like that, Haruki was moving again.

He didn’t need a god’s power.

He would save her himself.

To be continued…