Eirik was known as the village fool, a title he neither sought nor particularly minded. It wasn’t that he lacked intelligence; he was simply different. While the other young men of his age focused on practical skills like farming or blacksmithing, Eirik spent his days tinkering with broken tools, inventing gadgets no one needed, and poring over old books filled with obscure architectural drawings. The village elders often muttered that his head was in the clouds—or more precisely, buried in the ruins on the outskirts of town.

Today was no different. The sun had barely risen, but Eirik was already trudging through the thick underbrush of the forest, heading toward the ancient temple hidden beyond the village’s boundary. The temple was a place of legend, abandoned long before living memory. Most villagers avoided it, believing it to be cursed or haunted. To Eirik, it was a treasure trove of forgotten knowledge.

He arrived at the crumbling stone structure, its once-grand entrance now overgrown with ivy and moss. Eirik paused to admire the intricate carvings that lined the doorway. The details were weathered, but the craftsmanship was undeniable. He ran his fingers over the worn stone, trying to imagine the hands that had carved it centuries ago.

With a determined grin, Eirik stepped inside. The air was cool and damp, and the light from the entrance quickly faded as he ventured deeper into the temple. He had been here before, but every time he explored, he found something new—a hidden passage, an ancient mural, or a forgotten relic. Today, however, something felt different. There was an odd energy in the air, a subtle hum that seemed to vibrate through the stone walls.

Following the sound, Eirik found himself in a chamber he hadn’t discovered before. It was small, circular, and at the center stood a pedestal covered in dust and cobwebs. Upon the pedestal lay a peculiar artifact—a gauntlet, seemingly made of metal, yet shimmering with an otherworldly light. Intricate runes etched into its surface pulsed faintly, as if alive.

Eirik’s heart raced. This was it. This was the discovery that would prove he wasn’t just some foolish dreamer. He reached out cautiously, his fingers hovering just above the gauntlet. The moment he touched it, the runes flared brightly, and the chamber filled with a blinding light.

When Eirik’s vision cleared, he found himself no longer in the temple chamber but in a vast, starry void. He floated in the middle of nothingness, with the gauntlet—the Godhand—now firmly attached to his right hand. The weight of it felt substantial, yet it seemed to fit him perfectly, as if it had been made just for him.

Before he could fully grasp what was happening, a voice echoed through the void, deep and resonant, as if the stars themselves were speaking.

“Bearer of the Godhand, you have awakened the legacy of the Demiurges. You are the last of their line, and with this power, you shall rebuild the world.”

Eirik blinked. “Rebuild the world? Me? You’ve got the wrong guy. I can barely fix a leaky roof.”

The voice didn’t respond. Instead, the void around him began to shift, the stars forming into shapes and patterns. Suddenly, he was standing on solid ground, in the middle of a field. The Godhand glowed with a soft light, and in his mind, he saw something—a blueprint, a design for a simple structure, a small shed.

“Well… I guess I’ll start small,” Eirik muttered. He focused on the blueprint in his mind, and before he knew it, his hand moved on its own, tracing the lines of the design in the air. The ground rumbled, and the materials for the shed appeared before him—wood, nails, stone, all in neat piles.

Eirik grinned. This was amazing! He began to build, following the blueprint as best as he could. The Godhand seemed to guide him, making the process almost effortless. Within minutes, the shed was complete, standing solidly in the middle of the field.

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He stepped back to admire his work, but his satisfaction was short-lived. The shed began to creak ominously, the walls bending inward, the roof sagging. Before Eirik could react, the entire structure collapsed into a heap of wood and debris.

He stared at the pile of rubble, his shoulders slumping. “Great. The first thing I build with this legendary artifact, and it falls apart. Maybe I really am just a fool.”

Before he could wallow in self-pity, the voice returned, this time with a hint of amusement. “The Godhand reveals potential, but it is the skill of the bearer that brings forth true creation. Learn, adapt, and try again.”

Eirik sighed. Easier said than done.

As he contemplated his next move, a soft rustling sound caught his attention. He looked around, confused, until his eyes fell on a small, fox-like creature sitting atop the pile of rubble that had once been his shed. The creature had bright, mischievous eyes, and its fur shimmered with a faint, magical glow.

“Well, aren’t you a cute little thing?” Eirik said, crouching down to get a better look.

The creature tilted its head, regarding him curiously. “I suppose you could say that,” it replied, in a voice surprisingly deep for something so small.

Eirik jumped back, nearly tripping over his own feet. “You can talk?”

The fox-like creature chuckled. “Of course I can talk. I’m Kael, the spirit bound to the Godhand. It’s my job to guide the bearer—though judging by that shed, I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

Eirik frowned. “Hey, I’m new at this. Besides, it’s not like I had any training. What exactly is this Godhand supposed to do, anyway?”

Kael hopped down from the rubble and began circling Eirik, inspecting him from head to toe. “The Godhand is a tool of creation, left behind by the Demiurges to shape and maintain the world. It can build, restore, and even destroy, depending on the skill of its bearer.”

Eirik raised an eyebrow. “And you’re supposed to help me figure it out?”

“Exactly,” Kael said, sitting back on his haunches. “But don’t expect me to do all the work for you. The Godhand’s power is immense, but it requires creativity, resourcefulness, and most importantly, practice.”

Eirik glanced at the pile of debris that had once been his first creation. “I guess I have a lot of practicing to do.”

Kael grinned, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth. “Indeed. But don’t worry—we’ll start small. There’s plenty of time to save the world.”

Eirik wasn’t entirely convinced, but he nodded anyway. “So… what’s next?”

Kael’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Next, we head to the village. I’ve heard they could use a few repairs, and it’ll be the perfect place for you to hone your skills.”

Eirik hesitated. The village didn’t exactly have high expectations for him, and the last thing he wanted was to prove them right by failing in front of everyone. But then again, maybe this was his chance to show them—and himself—that he wasn’t just a fool with his head in the clouds.

“Alright,” Eirik said, more to himself than to Kael. “Let’s do this.”

The walk back to the village was filled with Kael’s chatter. The spirit seemed to take great pleasure in explaining the various abilities of the Godhand, though much of it went over Eirik’s head. By the time they reached the outskirts of the village, Eirik’s mind was spinning with information, most of which he wasn’t sure he could put to use.

As they entered the village, the familiar sights and sounds of daily life greeted them—the clang of metal from the blacksmith’s forge, the laughter of children playing in the streets, the smell of fresh bread from the bakery. Eirik had always felt out of place here, but today, with the Godhand on his arm and Kael by his side, he felt a strange sense of purpose.

It wasn’t long before the villagers noticed him. Murmurs and whispers spread through the crowd as they saw the gauntlet on his hand and the strange creature at his side. Most of them looked skeptical; a few even seemed amused.

Freya, the village blacksmith and one of the few people who didn’t outright dismiss Eirik as a fool, was the first to approach him. She eyed the Godhand with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“What’s that on your arm, Eirik?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Eirik hesitated, unsure how to explain everything that had happened. “It’s… well, it’s called the Godhand. I found it in the old temple, and apparently, it’s supposed to help me… rebuild the world?”

Freya raised an eyebrow. “Rebuild the world? You? With that… thing?”

Eirik couldn’t blame her for the skepticism. It sounded ridiculous even to him. “I know it sounds crazy, but I already built something with it. It didn’t exactly work out, but—”

“Didn’t work out?” Freya repeated, her tone flat.

“Well, it kind of collapsed,” Eirik admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it was my first try! I’ll get better.”

Freya sighed, shaking her head