Tek. Tek. Tek.
The sound of firewood crackling in the fireplace. It was, without a doubt, a very simple house; wooden walls, stone floor, a rustic yet not primitive appearance — actually quite beautiful in the eyes of some people.
And in the corner, there was a bed, with a wooden rocking chair and a desk beside it. There, on the chair, a young man lay with his eyes closed.
The sun had just risen. The dark mountains rising on the horizon like walls began to lighten gradually, waking up the entire village wrapped in the soft mist of dawn.
Rays of sunlight slipped through the cracks in the window, illuminating the boy's pale face, who, with a subtle and calm movement, opened his eyelids, waking from his sleep.
"End the cycle of death and this world's demise."
The phrase echoed in his mind like a distant whisper. An old memory. Or perhaps a recent one.
He didn't know anymore.
His fingers moved slowly, touching the wood of the chair as if testing reality. The heat of the fire. The smell of the countryside. Everything was real…
"Again..." — he whispered.
Velyth. That was what they called him.
But that wasn't his name. His real name had been erased in the many repeated journeys; lost in the abyss of fragmented memories. Now, he was just a piece in a game far too old.
Another "protagonist" thrown into a story he didn't choose.
He remembered the dream. Always the same.
A faceless voice. A shattered sky. And that mission... to save the world. But not in his own way. In the way of those who brought him here.
But it had been a long time since that promise stopped being a reason.
Seconds later, Velyth looked up at the ceiling and murmured:
"If this is a new beginning, I suppose..."
Before he could finish the sentence, a wave of pain rushed through his head and body. Immediately followed by a splitting headache and intense vertigo.
Pain... excruciating pain that would make anyone collapse to the floor took over his entire being... That was the price of being transmigrated into a new body in a new world.
Anyone would writhe. Cry. Beg for it to stop.
But not him. At least... not this time.
His silver eyes opened with a cold, almost inhuman glow. He stared firmly at the window — the same one where sunlight had touched his face just seconds earlier — as if challenging the world outside to try and stop him.
His hair, dark as the night, swayed with the morning breeze.
He didn't scream. Didn't stagger. Didn't even blink.
The pain still burned. But for him, it was just another memory.
A memory he had learned to ignore.
Because waking up there was no longer a shock.
Feeling all that pain was no longer punishment.
After all...
...it was the thousandth time.
---
Originally, Velyth was just a regular 17-year-old student from the modern world who, on a fateful night of sleep, had his soul and memories thrown into this world in a new body.
At first, obviously, it was hard for him. Being thrown into such a terrifyingly vast and magical world out of nowhere, without warning, was at the very least an inconceivable idea.
Him, of all people? A teenager still living with his parents, just entering adulthood?
Why him?
How did this happen?
How could this happen?!
Locked in this strange world with such a vague goal forced on him without consent or apparent reason was so unfair and confusing that his mind simply refused to accept what was happening around him.
"Is this a dream...? Y-yeah...! It has to be a dream..." he repeated over and over in his head.
But, to his misfortune, it was real. All of it was real.
This wasn't a fairy tale where you're a failure in your past life and go to a magical world where you become the strongest, like in some random anime.
He had family, friends, relatives...
...But even so, the days passed in that world.
Slowly, he was forced to adapt. There was no one to help him. No tutorial system, no mysterious ally. Just a vast, cruel world full of strange rules and unknown threats.
In the first life, he broke. The weight was too much. The pressure, the losses, the loneliness. With no direction, no purpose, no hope, he believed a lie he made up himself: "If I die here… maybe I'll wake up at home."
So, he jumped.
But he didn't return.
He woke up again. Same place. Same body. Same world.
And in that new attempt, everything felt... new. Like it was the first time. But it wasn't. Fragments of memories began to surface. Strange sensations, constant déjà-vus, thoughts that didn't belong to that moment.
Life after life, this pattern repeated. At first, he thought he was going insane. Then, he understood: he was trapped in a cycle. A loop.
With each rebirth, the memory fragments became clearer. And with them, small clues. Hints left by himself. Records, marks, codes. It was as if he were guiding himself without realizing it. And among these clues, there was always the same message — vague, but constant:
"Defeat the Darkness."
But what darkness? Where was it? What was its form?
He spent centuries seeking this answer, even though to everyone else, he was just another boy trying to live. To him, it was the thousandth time searching for meaning.
On attempt number 999, he finally understood.
The Darkness... wasn't an enemy. It wasn't a being. It wasn't something to be defeated with strength, magic, or wisdom. It was a fate. An inevitable end. A universal collapse that always arrived, no matter what he did.
He tried saving cities, building empires, killing villains, isolating himself from the world... Nothing stopped the end. It was a fact. A concept. An unbreakable certainty.
And that's when everything changed.
On the 1000th attempt, he didn't wake up in shock. Didn't feel anger or despair. He sat up, looked at the pale sky for the thousandth time and decided.
"If the end is inevitable... then I will be the one above it."
He no longer wanted to survive. Nor escape. Much less follow the orders of an absurd mission.
This time, he would shape the rules. Break the cycle. Rise above existence itself.
This time, he would become God.