Act I: The Garden of Monsters
It happened just after noon.
The city, that wheezing carcass of steel and screens, had already gnawed the morning to bone. Traffic pulsed like blood through clogged veins, neon bled across windows, and Noah—who wasn't called Noah yet—stepped off the curb with a bag of groceries and absolutely zero expectations.
Then came the truck.
A blur. A roar. And a very final crunch of bone and glass and something else too fragile to name.
People screamed. Brakes squealed. Someone dropped their phone.
He blinked up at the sky—unimpressed, more annoyed than anything.
So this is it? Seriously?
A lazy warmth spread through him, not unlike sleep. He felt his grip on reality go slack. Grocery bag down. Soul up.
No tunnel. No angels. Just void. A perfect, crushing silence like velvet against his skin.
Then—
[System Message Detected.]
You have died.
Initiating soul transfer...
Warning: No name detected.
Please assign identity before dimensional alignment completes.
Noah hovered—or whatever souls do—with what felt like the cosmic equivalent of an eye-roll.
"Fine," he said, his voice echoing weirdly in the nowhere. "Let's make it biblical. Call me Noah."
Name registered: Noah
He woke up choking on soot.
It clung to his throat like fingers, his lungs burning as he clawed at the jagged ground beneath him. His body ached in new places—too lean, too cold, too raw. Something was wrong with gravity, or maybe just with him. He blinked up through a tear in the sky: blood-colored clouds swirled above a ruined landscape where towers leaned like broken spines, and lightning cracked sideways.
Welcome to hell, apparently.
Or close enough.
Noah pulled himself up slowly, barefoot on black sand, ribs tight beneath a thin linen shirt. His fingers trembled as he touched his chest.
Heartbeat. Still there. Damn it.
[New Trait Acquired: Mortal Vessel]
Description: Your body is weak, untempered, and unremarkable.
Buff: None.
Debuff: Everything.
"Wow," he muttered. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
The wind howled low, dragging the scent of something half-burned and half-alive.
In the distance, a figure watched from a jagged cliff—too tall, too still.
Noah narrowed his eyes.
"Oh good," he murmured dryly. "Creepy silhouette guy. Just what I needed to round out the apocalypse aesthetic."
The figure didn't move. Just... lingered. Like it was waiting.
For what?
The path stretched like a wound.
Noah moved slowly, barefoot on the brittle ground, each step crunching over something that might've once been bone, or glass, or worse. The horizon never got closer. The sky stayed broken. And the figure that had watched him from afar?
Still waiting.
Eventually, the cliff rose to meet him.
The figure wasn't a man. Not exactly.
He stood tall in a robe stitched from shadows and ash, his face hidden behind a porcelain mask that resembled nothing—blank eyes, no mouth, only a single vertical crack from brow to chin. A voice echoed without moving lips. It wasn't heard so much as felt.
"You crossed the Veil," it said.
Noah folded his arms, eyeing the figure with the tired cynicism of someone who'd seen worse customer service reps in government offices.
"Yeah, I kinda got that memo already. Thanks for the death-by-truck reminder."
The masked being tilted its head, the movement too smooth, too slow.
Lightning cracked sideways again, tearing the sky open behind the god. For a moment, Noah glimpsed stars—too many, too close, like eyes pressed against glass.
"What is this place?" he asked, voice hoarse. "And what the hell are you?"
"You ask what this place is," the voice said. "You ask who I am. But the better question is what you are now."
Noah didn't flinch. But his throat tightened.
"One of a hundred," the hooded figure spoke continued. "Chosen from a dying world to fill the bones of this reborn one. You are not the first. You will not be the last. But you may be the only."
"Only what?" Noah asked coldly.
"Only god."
A pause. Not silence. A holding of breath in the universe.
"The High God of this realm has reached the end of His time. The old pantheon fades. Their dominions wither. This world—called Velrithar—has collapsed into rot and claw. Kingdoms are ash. Magic is wild. Races wander, untethered. Civilization must be rebuilt."
"By us?" Noah said, voice hollow. "A hundred dead humans thrown into a fantasy shitshow and told, what—go build a church and start a race war?"
The thing almost laughed. Or maybe the void behind him did.
"You are competitors. Inheritors. Each of you has been given one chance to choose a relic of power."
A platform of scorched stone rose between them, its surface marked with twelve glowing sigils. Twelve circles. Twelve mundane objects, hovering, flickering like memories from someone else's dream:
– a needle
– a copper coin
– a broken mirror
– a black feather
– a rusted key
– a torn page
– a cup of salt
– a silver ring
– a dead moth
– a sealed letter
– a mask
– and finally, a tarot card facedown, blank and humming.
"Choose one mortal."
Noah stared at the display, brow twitching.
"That's it? No explanation? No 'this one gives you super strength' or 'this one turns you into a sentient ferret'?"
"Choice is meaning. Meaning is power. Power is consequence."
The god stepped back.
"Choose, Fool."
Noah muttered something extremely blasphemous under his breath, then studied the objects. Each one seemed… charged. Not with light or magic, but with feeling. The key made his stomach clench. The mirror made his teeth ache. The coin whispered in a voice he couldn't quite remember.
He reached out.
And picked the tarot card.
It flipped in his hand like it had teeth, latching onto him as a system notification flared behind his eyes in cold gold light.
[Divine Relic Chosen: The Card of Falling Stars]
Initial Ability: "Draw One" – You may draw a single random card of fate once per day. Outcomes may vary.
Warning: Unpredictable. Weak at first glance. Fate always cheats.
[Divine Domain Manifested: Weaver of the Unseen Path]
You are now aligned with the Domain of Fate, Secrets, and Consequence.
Title Acquired: Lord of Falling Threads
Status: Candidate #43 of 100 – Activated.
Race Alignment: Unknown.
Starting Territory: Randomized.
World Entry: Imminent.
Noah barely had time to curse.
"Wait. You didn't even explain the—"
The Figure raised his hand, and the mask split open—not to reveal a face, but stars.
"No more questions."
The floor beneath Noah vanished.
He fell for a long time.
Not down, but through. Through stained glass memories, through frozen screams, through visions of the ninety-nine others scattered across landscapes of sand, bone, frost, and war.
He hit the ground with a brutal thud.
And this time, there was no mercy in the landing.
He woke in darkness. The smell of rust and moss heavy in the air.
The ground beneath him was… soft. Wet. Strange.
He sat up slowly, hand brushing something slick and warm. Not earth. Not grass.
Flesh.
Noah gagged and scrambled back, only now seeing where he'd landed.
Not a forest. Not a meadow. A field of corpses—massive, long-dead creatures, half-dissolved, some still breathing in ragged, impossible ways. Mountains of twisted bones, roots growing through ribs. Tongues of violet fungi pulsing in the sockets of long-extinct gods.
Above him, massive trees hung upside down from the sky, their roots writhing like worms, dripping light.
Noah stood. Drenched. Shivering.
[Territory Discovered: The Womb of Forgotten Flesh]
Warning: Corrupted Zone. No dominant race. No civilization. Extreme instability.
Buff: +1 Resistance to Madness.
Debuff: Nightfall brings the Crawling Choir.
[System Notice: You are alone. No one will help you. Build your domain. Choose your people. Survive.]
He breathed in.
Then he laughed—bitter, ragged.
"So this is how gods are born."
He reached into his pocket. The first card—the Draw One—buzzed gently, like a heart ready to beat, before dissolving in his grip.
Noah looked up at the sky full of upside-down trees and dying stars.
"Great. Just fucking fantastic."
Noah stumbled back from the carcass field, breath shallow, bile rising in his throat.
The stench clung to him. Something between rotting meat and sweet incense, like a church that had buried too many saints and started fermenting them. His feet squelched in something he refused to look at.
"Fucking hell," he spat, pushing past a ribcage the size of a car. "Thanks for the divine promotion, asshole. Really thriving out here."
He ran—half-limping, half-sliding—through the graveyard of giants. Pale vines curled from eye sockets. One of the corpses exhaled. Exhaled.
Noah didn't look back.
He kept moving until the corpse-flesh thinned, replaced by clumps of twisted moss and pale blue grass. The trees still hung upside down overhead like a cruel joke, their roots writhing through the thick sky like veins in a dying god's eye.
Eventually, the landscape flattened into something resembling a clearing. Empty. Almost.
Noah dropped to his knees, panting, and let out a ragged laugh.
"Alright, fine. Let's test this stupid power."
He reached into his coat—or rather, where a coat should've been. His shirt was thin, torn. Still, he could feel it: a tingling presence just beneath the skin, humming with anticipation.
"The card," he muttered. "Draw One."
Nothing.
He frowned. "Hey, System. Or voice. Or whatever. How the fuck do I use this thing?"
[System Message: To activate your relic ability "Draw One," visualize a tarot card deck in your hands. Move your fingers as though drawing from a real deck. Turn the drawn card over in your mind. The projection will manifest. Fate will respond.]
"That's vague as shit," Noah muttered. "But alright."
He closed his eyes. Breathed.
In the dark behind his eyelids, he imagined the weight of the deck. Cold. Thick. Old. His fingers moved on instinct—thumb, slide, draw. One card.
A flicker of light answered.
His eyes snapped open—and there it was.
A glowing projection hovered in front of him, just above his palms like a holographic mirror of painted vellum. Intricate. Beautiful. Terrifying.
He turned it.
[Card Drawn: The Serpent's Grace]
Effect: For the next hour, your body will move with supernatural fluidity and precision. You may dodge, climb, and flee with inhuman ease.
Buff: Agility temporarily increased. Balance becomes absolute.
Note: This is a rare card. Lucky draw.
Noah blinked.
"Okay… okay, that sounds actually useful."
His limbs tingled. A current ran through his veins like cool wine, and for the first time since waking up in this hellhole, his body didn't feel like wet paper. His muscles loosened. His breath steadied. His fingers twitched with uncanny grace, as if every nerve had been sharpened.
[Effect: Active – 59:54 remaining]
"Nice," he said softly. "That's—"
A low click-click-click echoed behind him.
Noah froze.
Then the growling started.
Deep. Wet. Too many throats. Something was moving through the trees. No, above them. No, all around.
He turned slowly.
From behind a cluster of twisted carcasses, shadowy shapes emerged. Slick, half-formed beasts, like someone had started sculpting wolves and then got bored halfway through—elongated limbs, too many joints, no visible eyes, but mouths that dripped dark saliva and smiled without reason.
One sniffed the air. The others followed.
"Fuck me," Noah whispered.
He bolted.
The Serpent's Grace kicked in immediately.
He moved like smoke—slipping between roots, vaulting over dead bone-stacks, his body reacting faster than thought. His foot hit a branch and rebounded with perfect control. The monsters howled behind him, claws shredding bark and fungal growth as they gave chase.
He didn't look back.
Didn't need to.
He felt them.
Hot breath. Close.
His lungs burned, but the power held. Ahead—a hollow. Beneath an overturned mass of some colossal skull and ribcage, half-consumed by vines. Just large enough to slip into.
He didn't hesitate.
Noah dove under the tangle, sliding through bone-slick mud and pressing himself flat into the cavity. The stench hit like a wall—old blood, ancient rot, something chemical and wrong—but he didn't move.
Not a sound.
The beasts stormed past.
Their feet thudded. Jaws snapped inches from his hiding spot. One paused. Sniffed the air.
Noah held his breath.
Long seconds passed.
Then they moved on.
The air didn't relax. It tensed, like the world was waiting to see if he'd scream.
He didn't.
He lay there in silence, pressed to the ribs of some god-forsaken creature, sweat running into his eyes, heart hammering, body tingling from the grace still humming in his blood.
[57:23 remaining]
Eventually, the forest quieted. The upside-down trees stopped twitching.
Noah exhaled.
"Okay," he whispered.
"Okay, so… I'm not dead. Yet."
Noah didn't stay long under the carcass.
The world didn't reward stillness. It mocked it.
Once the sounds faded, he crawled out into a forest of twitching vines and broken bone. The air was thick with spores. The upside-down trees shifted slowly, like they were watching. Somewhere distant, something wailed like metal bent under pressure.
His footsteps made soft sucking sounds against the wet ground.
Everywhere he turned, life pulsed in impossible ways. The flesh of the land was literal—ribbed hills, pulsing cysts, rivers that flowed red and warm. Once, he passed what looked like a tree until he realized it was a spine grown vertical, fungus blooming between each vertebra like cancerous flowers.
"This place is a fucking nightmare," he muttered. "H.R. Giger would jerk off to this shit."
Still, the Serpent's Grace held him like a second skin—agile, fluid, sharp. He ducked under low-hanging muscle-twine, slid across moss-covered bone like a dancer. Some part of him began to enjoy the movement.
Then he saw it.
A structure—no, a ruin—rising from the hillside like a cracked tooth. The stone wasn't natural. Pillars leaned outward, carved with symbols too old to read. A half-collapsed arch crowned the entrance, tangled in vines and something that might've been veins.
His pulse jumped.
"Finally," he breathed. "Something that doesn't smell like regret."
He stepped closer, already imagining what could be inside—relics, lore, maybe even a dormant race to enslave—when the hairs on the back of his neck rose.
Too late.
Click-click-click.
That sound again.
Noah turned, and his blood ran cold.
The same creature from before—or another of its kind—stood atop a rise behind him. It sniffed the air, then snapped its head toward him. It had found him.
"Shit—"
He bolted, again.
The Grace kicked in like instinct.
Noah bounded across the terrain, weaving through bone-trees, leaping over twitching growths, sliding under hanging intestines that dripped with glowing ichor. The world was alive, and it wanted to kill him.
Behind him, the monster screeched. The sound sliced through the air like a blade.
He heard it gaining.
"No, no, no—"
Up ahead, the land curved sharply downward—and then disappeared entirely.
Noah skidded to a halt just in time to see it: a massive chasm, wide as a collapsed cathedral, its edges rimmed in cracked bone and twitching grass. Below, nothing but darkness.
He didn't have time to think.
The creature was behind him. He felt its heat.
Noah leapt.
Time slowed.
His body twisted mid-air, unnatural grace guiding him through. His feet kicked off a jagged bit of stone jutting from the edge. He soared.
Landed.
Hard.
Rolled.
Came up gasping on the far side, heart hammering.
"Holy shit…"
He turned—
The monster didn't stop.
It sprinted after him blindly, eyes nonexistent, just a mass of hunger and claw. Its front limbs hit the edge of the chasm.
And then it dropped.
Noah stumbled back, watching as the creature plummeted into the dark below—
And then the hole moved.
Something shifted in the earth. A deep, wet rumble rolled through the ground. Veins of red light lit up along the rim of the chasm like blood awakening.
Then came the teeth.
Massive. Curved. Glimmering bone.
The earth opened like a flower made of nightmares, and the monster didn't even have time to scream. The mouth beneath the world snapped shut with a sickening crunch—and it was gone.
Silence.
Noah stood frozen.
"What the fuck was that?!"
[SYSTEM ALERT – UNEXPECTED EVENT REGISTERED]
You have successfully lured an S-Class predator into a world-devouring bio-maw. Survival bonus granted.
+7,500 XP
+1 Title Interaction Triggered
LEVEL UP!
Current Level: 1 → 10
[Divine Title Upgrade Detected: Lord of Falling Threads]
Divine Domain Synergy: Fate | Secrets | Consequence
[New Feature Unlocked: God-Level Progression Tree]
Please allocate your initial stat points:
– Strength
– Agility
– Endurance
– Intelligence
– Charisma
– Will
– Domain Attunement
You have +30 points to distribute.
You may also select one Domain Blessing related to your path.
Noah just stood there, mouth slightly open.
"I… leveled up. From running away."
He exhaled a laugh. Shaky. Not quite sane.
"Okay. Okay, so this world's insane, but I might actually survive if I keep being a slippery little shit."
He opened the interface fully for the first time.
CLASS: God Candidate – Fate-Aligned
TITLE: Lord of Falling Threads
DOMAIN: The Unseen Path (Fate, Secrets, Consequence)
Level: 10
Race Guidance: Not yet selected
Civilization Status: None
"Choose your Domain Blessing:"
– Twist of the Thread – Once per day, you may force a single event to reroll its outcome. (Luck-based mechanic)
– Veiled Intent – Your motives become harder to read. Opponents and allies alike suffer difficulty perceiving your true thoughts. (Manipulation-based)
– False Step – Triggers a fake mistake during combat or speech that opens a new opportunity. (Deception-based trap)
– Reader's Eye – You can see the last decision someone made and what consequence followed. (Insight-based power)
Noah's fingers hovered over the glowing screen.
"Choices," he whispered. "It's always fucking choices."
Noah stared at the glowing interface, lip twitching.
"Wait. Luck-based mechanic?"
His voice echoed slightly against the bone-hollowed trees, carried weirdly across the wet wind.
"System. What the hell does that mean? Is there a luck stat? Can I increase it? What does it even affect? Rolls? Fate? Me not dying horrifically in a mouth-shaped hole in the ground?"
For a second, nothing happened.
Then:
[SYSTEM ALERT]
Secret Stat Unlocked: LUCK
You have triggered an unauthorized inquiry into forbidden mechanics.
Access granted due to Domain Alignment: Fate
The "Luck" stat is now visible and adjustable.
This stat affects:
– Outcome variability
– Card draw rarity
– Passive chance-based events (dodging, critical hits, loot rarity, survival events)
– Unforeseen divine interventions
– Systemic narrative twists
A new glyph appeared on his screen.
LUCK: 0 (now assignable)
Noah blinked.
"Oh."
He grinned. Slowly. Like a blade coming out of its sheath.
"Oh hell yes."
His fingers hovered over the Domain Blessings again, heart still thudding from the recent encounter. That monstrous pit. The screech. The bones. The teeth.
You may choose ONE Domain Blessing:
He didn't even hesitate this time.
Selected: Twist of the Thread
Once per day, you may force a single event to "reroll" its outcome. Use with caution.
Cooldown: 24 hours
Trigger: Verbal or mental command
"A cheat," he whispered. "Just my type of magic."
The interface flickered again.
Allocate Stat Points: 30 Available
He moved quickly now, thoughts crystallizing in that sharp, paranoid clarity only fear could deliver.
– Agility: +12
– Endurance: +8
– Luck: +10
The moment he confirmed it, something surged through him. Not just energy—but alignment. Like the system itself shifted to accommodate his shape. The world around him felt… tilted. Brighter in the corners. Possibility flaring like embers underfoot.
Stats Updated. Perks Adjusted. Chance distortion increased.
He breathed out slowly, checking the timer.
Serpent's Grace – 00:31:12 Remaining
"I've still got a half-hour of ninja mode left. Good."
His thoughts drifted back to the ruin.
The structure still loomed in the distance, half-sunken, stone bleeding vines. It had looked small before. Now, with the beast dead and the earth un-screaming, it looked inviting. Or at least less murderous than the rest of the terrain.
He turned back toward it, shoulders tense, limbs coiled with unnatural precision. Each step felt easier. His movements ghosted between exposed bone and twitching fungus without so much as a whisper. The forest didn't notice him now. Not yet.
As he approached the ruin again, a flicker of memory struck him—the archway, the way the stone looked scorched from the inside, like something had tried to escape.
"Great," he muttered. "Either I find an ancient library or a demon chewing on a book club."
Inside was worse.
The ruined chamber was cracked open like a ribcage, and what once might have been altars or thrones now lay drowned in slick red moss and veined vines that pulsed softly with a heartbeat that didn't belong to him.
Noah stepped carefully.
Nothing moved. Yet.
The path forked, then twisted, then narrowed—until he found it.
Not a door. A stairwell. Half-hidden beneath collapsed stone, the top steps slick with viscera and overgrown with crimson grass that recoiled from his touch.
Stone sloped downward into the dark.
A chill exhaled from below. Faint. Like a memory left in a grave.
Noah stared at it.
"You know what? Sure. Let's add subterranean horror to the list."
He stepped onto the first stair.
It held.
He began to descend.
[New Area Discovered: Forgotten Vein - Ruin Depths]
Warning: Unknown energy signature detected.
Buff "Serpent's Grace" will remain active for 00:28:02
Card ability "Draw One" on cooldown: 22:45:38
The stairs groaned as he moved, slow and steady, deeper into the ruin.
He didn't know what waited.
Didn't know if it would be magic or madness or both.
But it was still better than being eaten by trees with teeth.