It wasn't a particularly cold morning.
But it was empty.
And that kind of silence could kill a man.
Jomarie Estadilla stood on the rooftop of the tallest building in Metro Manila — floor 86 — where no one could hear him ask why he even bothered waking up that day.
He didn't cry. He couldn't. His body had long since learned how to survive without relief. His bones ached not from labor, but from carrying too much hope for too long.
Down below, the world kept moving: buses, vendors, families, lovers. Lives he would never live.
He took a shallow breath.
Twenty years old.
Housekeeper by title.
Broken eldest son by reality.
His phone buzzed in his pocket — he already knew what it would say.
GCash: ₱0.00
Bank: ₱127.00
Text from Mom: "If you can send at least 300 today, we haven't eaten."
He locked the screen. Eyes distant.
"I'm sorry, Ma. Maybe this is the only way I can help."
Jomarie wasn't selfish. He was just tired.
The kind of tired that makes you forget who you are. The kind of tired that convinces you the only honest thing left to do... is to disappear.
He stepped closer to the edge.
Shoes dusty. Knees shaking.
Nobody yelled. Nobody stopped him. The city was used to ghosts.
He whispered one last thing.
"If anyone's listening... I tried."
And—
He jumped.
---
The fall was silent.
No dramatic music. No flashbacks. Just peace — for the first time in years.
But just before the concrete could embrace him — time ruptured.
A light, blinding and soundless, swallowed everything.
When he opened his eyes, he wasn't falling anymore. He wasn't standing, either. He simply was — floating in a vast space of stars, colorless and infinite.
And before him stood a man made of light. Or something that wore the idea of a man just so he wouldn't go insane trying to comprehend it.
"Jomarie."
The voice wasn't loud, but it echoed through every memory he had.
"W-who are you...?"
"I am who you prayed to — even after you stopped believing anyone was listening."
Jomarie's knees hit the stardust floor. It didn't hurt, but he broke anyway.
"Are you... God?"
"Not the version you blame, but the one who never left."
Jomarie lowered his head.
"Why now? Why only now?"
"Because you finally asked the question... without words."
The stars dimmed.
Behind the light, shadows emerged — wearing human faces. Politicians. Preachers. Policemen. Smiling demons cloaked in respectability.
"This world is infested, Jomarie. Corrupted not by accident, but by design."
"Then why was I the one suffering?"
"Because you were surrounded by monsters wearing grace."
Jomarie's eyes burned.
"I wanted to die. I gave up. I'm not a warrior."
"And still, in your final breath, you blamed no one. You only asked for the pain to stop."
God moved closer, his presence overwhelming but warm.
"So now, I give you a choice."
"Die, and return to the world as a demon — hollow and numb."
"Or live, and rise as My divine weapon against what haunts humanity."
Jomarie's voice cracked.
"Why me?"
"Because even in despair, you still loved your family more than you hated the world."
"What if I say yes? What happens then?"
"Then you will awaken. I will give you a system — a guide forged in light."
"Its name is Divine Starlium. It will teach you how to kill demons. And how to carry your name with power."
Jomarie's throat tightened.
"Will I still be poor?"
"Probably."
"Will it still hurt?"
"Always."
"Then what changes?"
"You do."
---
TING.
His lungs gasped — air filled them with a violent jolt.
He was back. Awake. In his tiny boarding house room.
Still poor. Still broken. But...
Hovering in front of him was a glowing white interface.
-----------------------------------------
> [WELCOME, CHOSEN ONE.]
> [Initializing System: Divine Starlium...]
> [First Mission: Strengthen your vessel. Eradicate detected darkness nearby.]
-----------------------------------------
Jomarie blinked. The screen blinked back.
Alive. Changed.
No longer invisible.
He looked at his hands. Same callouses. Same scars.
But something deeper had been rewritten.
He didn't rise as a hero.
He rose as a weapon.