Becoming A God In Another World With My Crush

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘❦✾❦∘∙⊱⋅•

The hallway was quiet as Alyhana walked slowly, balancing a silver tray in her hands. A metal jug of water and a single cup clinked softly with each step. Maia had asked her to check on Xander since he hadn't woken up since the ritual yesterday, but his pulse was steady.

Alyhana was beyond glad Xander had survived the Veylith Crystal extraction, he was indeed a god, even Mistress Gaea couldn't deny it for long.

She would happily spend her life being his humble servant if he wished her to be.

She smiled softly to herself as she reached the chamber door. Her fingers hovered over the handle for a moment before she pushed it open. The room was dim, lit only by the candles and incense still burned in the corner.

But the bed was empty.

She blinked.

The tray nearly slipped from her hands.

"Wait… what?"

She stepped inside, eyes scanning the room. The sheets were rumpled. The bandages were still there. But the Kaelhi...Xander was was gone.

And so was the sword.

Her heart dropped.

"No, no, no—he didn't—" she whispered, setting the tray down with a shaky hand.

She turned in a slow circle, as if he might be hiding behind the door or crouched in the corner like a child playing a prank.

But the room really was empty.

Alyhana pressed a hand to her forehead. "He wouldn't just leave. Not after everything. Not after—"

Her eyes narrowed.

"He wouldn't leave Iris. Or Eli. Not like that."

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her braid swinging behind her.

"Where have you gone, Xander?"

Xander walked alone through the ruins of Iasora, the temple a distant silhouette behind him. The city stretched out before him like a graveyard... because it was, technically at least. With burned homes, shattered statues, streets buried in ash and dust. He wondered how Maia and her sisters had felt had felt having to bury thousands of people.

He didn't know why his feet had brought him here.

Only that they had.

The sword hung at his side, sheathed in crimson cloth, but it felt heavier with every step. Like it knew where they were. Like it remembered.

Xander stopped in the middle of a crumbling street. His boots crunched over broken tile and bone-white dust. He turned slowly, taking it all in.

"I've been here," he whispered to himself, "I saw this... I watched them all die."

He stepped over a collapsed wall and into what used to be a courtyard. Another fountain stood in the center, dry and cracked, then he saw it.

A child's toy.

Half-buried in the dirt. A wooden bird, its wings chipped, one eye missing.

Xander crouched down and picked it up gently, brushing the dust from its surface. His throat tightened.

"Did they get out?" he asked softly. "Did anyone survive at all?"

He stared at the toy for a long time, then set it back down where he found it. His hand drifted to the hilt of the sword.

It pulsed faintly beneath his fingers and he gripped it tighter.

"You all didn't deserve this," he muttered. "I'm sorry...that I couldn't stop your sufferings.."

He stood there in the silence, surrounded by ghosts and dust. "I'm sorry that I can't be the Kaelhi you need."

He was too weak, he's only been here in this strange world for about a week and a half now, and he had almost died up to four times now. Back in his world, he could barely protect himself against the bullies, how was he to save an entire realm?

The door to a house down the street creaked as he pushed it open.

Xander stepped into what was left of a home, half-collapsed, but strangely untouched. Dust floated in the air like ash caught in sunlight. The floor groaned beneath his boots as he adjusted his glasses.

Plates still sat on the table, cracked but not broken. A blanket was folded neatly over the back of a wooden chair. A child's shoe lay near the hearth, its laces still tied.

It felt like the family had just stepped out.

And... never came back.

He moved slowly, like he was afraid to disturb something sacred. Or haunted, the walls were scorched in places, but the air was stagnant. No blood. No bodies. Just… absence.

He ran his fingers along the edge of the table, then paused at a shelf lined with tiny clay figurines—animals, gods, maybe both. One had fallen and broken in half.

Xander picked it up, turning it over in his hand.

"I'm so sorry," he said quietly.

He set the broken piece down gently, then he walked into the next room.

A bedroom, it was small with two beds. One larger, one barely big enough for a child. The sheets were still tucked in and a stuffed animal sat on the pillow, its fur singed at the edges.

Xander swallowed hard.

He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, and let the silence press in.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. "I don't know who you were. I don't know if I could've saved you. But I'm sorry."

The silence broke all of a sudden, it started with a creak sound.

Xander's head snapped up as a door, somewhere behind him groaned open on rusted hinges.

Then came the sound of footsteps.

'Shit!'

Xander didn't move at first. His breath caught in his throat. His fingers hovered near the hilt of the sword as if he knew what do with it.

He stood up slowly, every muscle in his body tensed. The air felt colder now. He turned toward the sound, eyes narrowing.

"Okay," he muttered, "that's... definitely not the wind."

He reached for the Aurex Blade.

The moment his hand touched the hilt, the runes flared to life, soft blue light spilling across the walls, casting long shadows as he drew the blade from its sheath.

The footsteps stopped just outside the room as Xander took a breath.

"If you're a ghost or some kind of beast," he muttered, "please don't make me fight you, I'm still recovering..."