Reborn as A God

Sunlight streamed through the wooden slats of the window, casting long stripes across the bed. I sat up slowly, rolling my shoulders. My body still hummed faintly from the Arcana I absorbed the previous night. Every joint moved fluidly, every breath felt deeper. But the memory of that freezing bath…

"Idiot," I muttered, slapping my forehead.

I could manipulate energy. Arcana. Why didn't I just heated the damn water?

The realization hit me like a falling tree: Arcana was limited not by physics, but by purpose. You couldn't create something from nothing like a god, but within the bounds of nature and human possibility… it was terrifyingly flexible.

I could have heated the water with thermal manipulation. Condensed moisture into steam. Even shaped the basin like a shower if I understood the material structure well enough. The world ran on this energy, and I had walked in like a caveman with a torch in the middle of a power grid.

Beside the bed, the book Ariana gave me lay open on the nightstand. I picked it up again, rereading the first few chapters. She said it was for "newly Awakened" adventurers.

[Arcana & The Arts: A Beginner's Manual]

Arcana exists in all living things and the very air we breathe. Practitioners of Arcane Arts absorb Arcana into the heart, refining it into Circles. The more Circles one manifests, the more refined their control over external phenomena, heat, wind, gravity, light, and beyond.

In contrast, the Body Arts direct Arcana inward, into muscle, bone, and nerve. Masters of this path become monsters of speed, endurance, and raw power.

Both paths have a structured tier system recognized by the Associations and Kingdoms:

 Arcane Arts Levels 

Initiate - One Heart Circle; minor elemental control.

Aetherborn -Two Circles; sustained manipulation (e.g., fireballs, barriers).

Runesmith - Three Circles; can inscribe and activate magical sigils.

Spellbinder - Four Circles; layered, simultaneous spellwork.

Arcanist - Five Circles; complex elemental fusion (e.g., lightning storms, ice walls).

Voidcaller - Six Circles; limited spatial and gravity manipulation.

Archon - Seven Circles; mastery over fundamental forces within mortal bounds.

 Body Arts Levels 

Fledgling - Muscle reinforcement, faster reflexes.

Steelblood - Dense bones, superior stamina.

Titanbone - Superhuman strength and durability.

Windstep - Short-range acceleration, acrobatics.

Juggernaut - Break objects like boulders barehanded.

Wraithwalker - Near-invisibility with stealth-based acceleration.

Zenith - Complete control of the body on the cellular level.

"Seven levels…" I whispered, closing the book. I could already feel the stirrings of two Circles forming in my chest, one completed last night. If I focused… maybe I could speed that up. But for now—

My stomach growled. Food first and power later.

The town of Glintmere was nestled beside a slow-moving river, its buildings mostly wooden, with stone foundations. The streets were narrow and busy, filled with vendors hawking fruit, meats, and trinkets, some clearly enchanted.

People bustled about: adventurers with weathered armor, beastkin traders, old women selling rune-stitched charms, and cloaked spellcasters whispering to floating familiars.

Signs above doorways displayed crests:

—The Bloody Fang Butchery

—Runework Supplies

—Bountiful Swords

—The Guild Hall

I passed children practicing minor spells under the watchful eyes of older mages. A dwarf hammered an enchanted horseshoe until it glowed faintly gold. The town ran on Arcana like a well-oiled machine, alchemy-powered lamps, floating carts for heavy goods, even animated brooms sweeping corners.

But one place towered above the rest. A building of ivory stone and green-glass windows rose in the heart of Glintmere, its spire etched with swirling glyphs. The sign outside shimmered faintly with pulsing script:

"Bingo," I muttered.

Inside, the hall was silent except for the whisper of flipping pages and the low hum of Arcana-charged air. Dozens of mages sat at long tables, reviewing scrolls and crystal tablets.

A receptionist, this one in a neat indigo robe with gold embroidery, looked up from her desk.

"New registration?" she asked, her voice calm and precise.

"Yes," I said, stepping forward. "I'd like to register under the Arcane discipline."

"Name?"

"…Call me Adam."

She nodded, jotting it down. "Do you have proof of Awakening?"

"I can show you," I said, placing a hand to my chest.

I focused.

The air shifted. Arcana rippled. A soft glow formed around my heart as a faint circle of light spun into view through my shirt, then a second, pulsing gently behind it. Her eyes widened slightly.

"Two Circles already? Impressive. Most first-timers barely manage one."

"I had a good teacher," I lied with a casual grin.

She smiled faintly and handed me a small copper medallion engraved with two rings.

"This is your Beginner's Seal. Your identity will be recorded in the central registry. Visit our training grounds on the west end of town. You'll find mentors, spell-forging scrolls, and sparring partners." she said.

"I nodded then placed the medallion on the counter. Please give me a quest, an easy one would be much appreciated" I said 

The Arcane Association's receptionist didn't waste time. She fished out a parchment scroll from under the table and looked it over a bit then placed it on the counter.

"Several novice adventurers went missing two days ago after taking a low-risk patrol route east of Glintmere. Your task is to investigate. If you find bodies, retrieve their tags. If not... hope they're still breathing." She said

No guards, no backup. Just me.

I left the hall with the scroll tucked under my cloak, staring up at the sky. Light clouds drifted lazily. The world didn't look like anything was wrong. But something was.

Ariana's face had tensed subtly when she handed me a satchel with dried meat, a spare mana crystal, and a short knife I'd bought the night before.

"You're actually taking that job?" she'd asked, her voice light but eyes sharp. "Be careful, Adam. This doesn't sound just like bandits."

I had smiled and told her I'd be fine. Now I wasn't so sure.

I stood at the edge of the eastern woods, wind tugging at my cloak. Tall trees loomed like silent sentinels, their branches whispering secrets. My fingers flexed around the leather-wrapped handle of my knife. A part of me wanted to snap my fingers, part the trees, and see all, to unravel the forest like string.

I could, probably but something in me recoiled. That's not the point of this journey. Not yet. This was a mortal world. My mortal trial. 

Lol

I sighed. "Let's do this the hard way."

I moved swiftly, eyes scanning for signs. After twenty minutes, I found the first footprint, a boot pressed into the damp earth. Then another, half-covered by fallen leaves. Four sets total. They'd moved in a staggered formation, cautious, likely expecting wild beasts. But then... they veered. Deep into the woods.

The trees thickened. The birds even stopped singing. That's when the tracks ended. I crouched low. No scuffle. No blood. No broken branches. It was as if the forest had... swallowed them.

I stood slowly, unease prickling along my skin. Then I took a step forward and hit something hard. My body jolted back as if I'd slammed into a wall of glass. I blinked. There was nothing in front of me. Just open forest.

"What the—?"

I reached out. My palm pressed against something solid, perfectly smooth but invisible. Cold to the touch. Arcana tingled at my fingertips.

"There's definitely something in there."

I drew my knife, the steel glinting in the filtered sunlight. I scraped it along the barrier, nothing. Not even a mark. Then I whispered a word, and Arcana surged through my arm and into the blade. The steel shimmered faintly blue.

I struck again. The knife cut into the barrier, slowly, like carving stone but it cut. And with that slice came a stench.

Rot. Blood. Death.

I leapt back, gagging. "Whoa! What in the nine layers of damnation is that!?"

Eyes watering, I staggered to a nearby tree. I wiped the sleeve of my cloak across my mouth.

"…Now I understand why Ariana was acting so weird when she saw me," I muttered. "She smelled this kind of s**t on me. Death."

I clenched my jaw and returned to the barrier. The slit I'd made was oozing a faint red mist. I pushed the blade deeper, carving enough space to squeeze through. The moment I stepped inside, the barrier sealed shut behind me with a soft hum.

And everything changed. The light dimmed, though the sun still hung in the sky outside. Inside, it was like twilight. Corpses, dozens of them. Adventurers, farmers. Even children. Strewn like discarded rags, eyes wide in terror, bodies bloated and pale. Some had their chests ripped open. Others were drained of all color.

In the center, a black altar stood atop a raised stone dais, etched with pulsing crimson runes. Before it knelt a man in a tattered crimson robe, slowly pouring a silver bowl of blood onto the feet of a twisted stone serpent, its fangs bared, eyes studded with purple gems.

The moment the last drop hit the statue's base, the man froze. Then slowly… he turned. His face was pale, eyes entirely black save for burning violet irises. He smiled, calm, serene, like he was greeting an old friend.

"Well well," he said, his voice unnaturally smooth. "The gods are generous today. A fresh offering… that delivered itself."

I narrowed my eyes, drawing the knife again. "I don't know what kind of rat cult this is, but I'm not on the menu."

The smile vanished. His eyes narrowed. "Arrogant."

Then he moved fast. Arcana flared around him, purple lightning crackling along his limbs. He launched toward me like a bolt, his robe snapping behind him. I brought my blade up just in time, metal met flesh with a sharp hiss of energy.

But it was like striking a boulder. My feet slid back, boots tearing into the dirt. He pressed in, fist cocked. I dove to the side, barely dodging a blow that shattered the ground where I'd stood. I rolled, sprung to my feet, and slashed at his back.

He twisted midair, caught my wrist, and drove his palm into my ribs.

CRACK.

Agony lanced through me. I gasped.

"Ah… excellent," he murmured. His hand still embedded in my side. "You're strong. Your vessel will do nicely."

I tried to channel Arcana into my palm. He noticed and flung me like a ragdoll into a nearby stone pillar. It shattered behind me.

"Don't struggle. You should be honored," he said, stepping toward me. "Your corpse will be the cornerstone of my ascension. When the gods come to collect their due, you'll be the sacrifice that tips the scale."

The altar behind him glowed, runes flaring bright red. Arcana roared into the clearing like a tsunami, wild and furious. It filled my lungs, poured into my wounds, surged toward my heart.

Too much, I thought, pain flashing white behind my eyes. Too much too fast

He snarled, seeing the rush. "No. No you don't."

And with a wave of his hand, my head flew from my shoulders.