The sky was like a blood-red smear across the horizon, as if the heavens themselves were bleeding. A young man, hands clasped behind his back, stood at the forefront of a queue, his gaze steady. He looked about sixteen, but there was an uncanny weight to his eyes, like he'd seen things no one his age should.

Despite the gravity of the moment, his appearance was striking, with a soft, youthful beauty that made his roundly chubby cheeks almost charming. But under that gentle exterior, there was a sharpness, a latent power that suggested there was far more to him than met the eye.

His gaze was fixed on three towering green pillars, each capped with jagged spikes, like the world's angriest cacti. Golden inscriptions spiraled up the stone like they were trying to escape, their meaning hidden beneath layers of ancient mystery, or just bad handwriting.

Behind him, the crowd fidgeted impatiently, packed together like sardines and muttering in disdain. 

"What's the hold-up?" someone grumbled. "He's been standing there for ages, staring at the Azebok pillars like he's waiting for them to start a conversation."

"He's not really trying to force enlightenment, is he?" another scoffed. "That's impossible. Who does he think he is?"

"Waste of time. If you're useless, you're useless. Why drag the rest of us into it?"

The criticism swelled into a noisy clamor, but the young man remained as unmoved as a rock—no, like a rock with better hair. His eyes narrowed even further, almost completely shut, as if he was focusing on something only he could see. Then, out of nowhere, he chuckled—a low, dry sound, more amused than bitter.

"So, the old man was right after all," he muttered under his breath. "The gods aren't ignoring me… they just don't think I'm worth the time."

A grim smile tugged at his lips as he finally tore his gaze from the pillars and turned to face the crowd. The moment their eyes met his, they quickly looked away, like schoolchildren caught in the act. Their earlier bravado evaporated, leaving only awkward silence.

He sighed, the weight of the moment fading as quickly as it had come. "Well, that's that." Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving the murmuring crowd in his wake.

"Of course," someone muttered behind him, dripping with sarcasm. "Now he's just going to sleep it off."

The young man ignored them, descending from the mountain-like platform the pillars stood on. Around him, the landscape shifted, revealing more of Elandor City, a small but thriving county tucked away at the edge of the southern Valaryn Continent. 

The city's modest buildings gradually came into view, their rooftops poking through the green canopy of surrounding forests. It was all so peaceful, which made the tension from the pillars feel even more ridiculous in hindsight.

His footsteps took him through the bustling streets, past the shops and homes that made up the city's heart, until he reached a large, imposing mansion. He paused briefly, eyeing the grand structure with mild disinterest, before veering off toward a small, modest house next door. It was a simple, tidy place, with just enough space for two people, though at the moment, only one seemed to live there.

Without a second thought, he collapsed onto the small bed in the corner of the room, drifting into a deep sleep almost immediately. It was exactly what the crowd at the pillars had predicted, leaving one to wonder if those people could, indeed, foresee the future.

As soon as his eyes closed, he sank into the familiar void, a suffocating darkness that felt like it could crush his very soul. He remained calm, as if used to this oppressive weight. This was routine for him now, another day, another plunge into the endless chasm.

Then, as if the void itself grew bored, the darkness peeled back, revealing a landscape of smoldering ruins. What once might have been lush and vibrant was now reduced to endless ash and rubble, like the remnants of a battle fought and lost long ago.

He walked through the devastation with the air of someone taking a stroll in the park. The wind picked up, lashing against him, his long black hair snapping in the ferocious gust. He waved a hand, and the wind fell silent, obedient as a chastened dog.

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"Gale-force winds? Really?" He sighed. "You'll have to try harder."

The atmosphere shifted, the land growing still as if awaiting his next move. He glanced up, where three colossal entities floated above, each more outlandish than the last.

To the left, an enormous, unblinking eye hung in the sky, eerily motionless. It radiated a cold indifference, like a cosmic bouncer unmoved by any mortal plea.

To the right, a massive, pulsating heart hovered, each beat resonating like a low, ominous drum. Dark tendrils of power coiled around it, as though it were both life and darkness entwined.

And above them both, a pale white sun glowed, a cold, unforgiving light that cast no warmth, only a chilling intensity. It loomed like the overseer of this desolate world, its power subdued yet unmistakable.

The young man took it all in without flinching, then fixed his gaze on the unblinking eye.

"Old man," he muttered, breaking the silence.

True to its ominous nature, the eye remained silent.

He sighed. "Old man, I still can't get any of the gods' powers. None. Zero. Care to explain?"

For the first time, the eye twitched, a small tremor, almost as if annoyed. The young man smirked.

"Yeah, I thought so," he said. "You and your secrets. Fine, don't tell me. Just don't expect me to let my guard down around you."

The eye seemed to still, then slowly opened wider, a deep red pupil swirling with patterns that hinted at unspeakable power. It was the kind of gaze that could swallow lesser souls whole.

But he didn't look away.

An ancient voice echoed from the eye, deep and resonant. "Boy, you dare call me old man? Do you even know who I am?"

His smirk widened. "Of course. Heaven's Devourer."

The eye's pupil shrank in surprise, the godlike composure slipping. Then a rumbling chuckle echoed across the wasteland.

"So, you know my name," the voice boomed. "Yet where is the fear that should freeze your soul? The reverence? You call me old man as if I am some relic, when I am the force that devours stars."

The young man shrugged, unbothered. "Stars, empires, solar systems… Sure, I get it. But you're still old."

The eye narrowed, a ripple of barely contained fury coursing through the air. "You mock me, mortal. I am the storm that rends the heavens! And you speak to me with such insolence?"

"Well, when you put it like that, yeah." He chuckled, eyes gleaming with mischief. "But you've got a great voice, I'll give you that. Ever thought of doing voiceovers?"

The skies darkened in response, the voice deepening with wrath. "Understand this, I am not a fleeting light. I am the abyss that consumes all. I am wrath made flesh. And you, a mere speck, would treat me as a nuisance?"

The land trembled beneath the weight of the eye's rage. But the young man stood firm, arms crossed, waiting.

When the roars finally faded, he raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Are you done?"

The young man exhaled, a weary smile crossing his face. "Does it even matter? I mean, you're just a fragment of my imagination, a figment in a dream I can't help but be pulled into each time I sleep. Status? Power? At this point, who cares?"

He looked boldly into the massive eye looming before him, his tone dripping with mockery, as if daring it to challenge his words. For a second, the colossal eye seemed to tremble, a flicker of emotion—anger, maybe?—rippling through it. Then, its gaze sharpened, an intensity that felt like it could pull the ground out from beneath him.

"Do you truly believe I am merely a fragment of your imagination? Just a phantom in a dream?" The voice rumbled, each word reverberating with ancient weight, making the air itself feel heavier.

The young man hesitated, feeling a faint, unbidden chill run through him. This strange, chaotic world he returned to with every sleep felt too real, too raw to be a mere dream. It was like the ruins of an ancient battlefield, marked by forces far beyond his understanding, and yet, here, he wielded powers he could only dream of in the real world.

Since childhood, he'd been plagued by an inexplicable sleepiness that pulled him into this dream world, a place where, ironically, everything seemed to bend to his will, allowing him to grasp powers he couldn't in the real world.

But here, too, was this eye, a strangely sentient thing, ancient and full of secrets, its presence as baffling as the power it claimed to wield.

It was this eye, after all, that had told him, taunted him, that he would never possess the divine power of any god. That he was as insignificant as dust. The words still burned in his memory like a wound that refused to heal.

He clenched his fists, bitterness welling up. In the world he lived in, power meant everything, and he'd been cursed with an empty soul, devoid of the abundant spiritual energy everyone else seemed to wield. Even the gods had ignored him, their divine power withheld, leaving him powerless in a world that worshiped strength.

"Fine, maybe you're right, Heavens Devourer," he said, a dark smile twisting his lips as he glanced back at the eye. "But tell me this, doesn't it seem strange? You, the great Heavens Devourer, the one who's devoured universes and made gods tremble, stuck here… with someone like me.

His tone was a knife, cutting through the silence. "If you're so powerful, why are you still here? Trapped, wasting away in this void with someone as 'worthless' as me?"

He let his words hang, waiting to see if the mighty Heavens Devourer would falter. The eye's silence felt heavy, a tension that almost dared him to push further. But the ancient voice returned, not with anger, but with a chilling amusement.

"Ah… you are amusing," the eye chuckled, a deep, sinister sound. "To think you could provoke me? To doubt the truths I've shown you? You are nothing, grasping at power you'll never touch."

The young man's smirk faltered slightly. It was right, and he hated it for that.

The eye continued, voice dripping with disdain. "But, there is a way. A way to gain strength… even for someone like you, who cannot wield the energy of this world."

The young man's interest piqued, though his skepticism held strong. "And how am I supposed to gain strength without spiritual energy or divine power?"

Instead of more cryptic words, the eye's gaze drifted to the massive white sun in the sky, its intense energy pulsing like a heart. The young man's eyes followed, a pang of recognition twisting in his gut. That sun, it radiated a force so immense, he could barely stand to look at it.

"Of course, you can't touch it," the eye sneered, as if reading his thoughts. "Not without my help."

The young man rolled his eyes. "Right, here we go again," he muttered. This so called Heavens Devourer always circled back to how it was the key to everything.

"Doubt me all you want, but remember this, power has a price," the eye said, its tone laced with dark amusement. "If you are willing to pay, I can help you wield a strength even the gods of your world would envy."

Before the young man could respond, he felt a familiar tug pulling him back. He sighed, casting a look at the fading horizon as the dream world began to dissolve around him.

"Guess it's time to wake up," he muttered, casting a final, defiant glance at the eye. "Seems we'll have to continue our conversation later, Old man, Heavens Devourer."

As he faded from the dream, he caught a glimpse of the eye, watching him with an intensity that hinted at things left unsaid, perhaps, secrets buried deep within its ancient gaze.