At first, there was nothing.
Not the kind of nothing you find in an empty room, or a lonely corner of the sky. This nothing had weight. It pressed in from all sides, thick and wet and listening.
And then came the voice.
"So you wanna be king of kings, don'tcha? Then shake my hand... Shake. A poor sinner's. Hand…"
The darkness twisted, forming the outline of a gloved hand — pale and long-fingered, too elegant to be human. A cruel grin floated nearby, suspended in the black like a wound in the world.
Laughter followed. Cold. Hollow. Unshakable.
Elsewhere, far from that void, a small boat bobbed lazily through a sky made of clouds. It was an old vessel, its sails stiff with frost, its hull quietly creaking as it rode a silver sea that should not have been.
The sun was beginning to rise — soft and molten, gold pouring across the deck like spilled tea.
On that deck, Ephraim Boichi lay snoring.
He had the look of someone who didn't take anything too seriously — a bit lean, a bit sharp-eyed, and entirely at peace with napping in the middle of a sky-ocean. His black-and-white hair stuck out at odd angles, fluttering like the flag of some outlawed country. A half-eaten fish roll sat on his chest, forgotten.
Ephraim sat up slowly, squinting as the sun painted streaks of gold across his face. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, more out of boredom than fatigue.
"Where am I? What time is it?" he murmured to no one in particular. Then he shrugged, already losing interest. "Eh, who cares. It's not night yet."
A scent drifted past him — rich, savory, irresistible.
He sniffed once. Then again.
His eyes widened.
There, not far off, was another vessel — grander, metal-plated, gliding just above the cloud-line. It looked important. It smelled like heaven.
"Maybe it's dinner time, though," he said with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Without wasting a second, Ephraim rolled off the edge of his raft and slipped into the thick cloud-sea. He paddled with practiced ease, his hands slicing through the air like oars through velvet fog. One final push brought him alongside the ship, and in one fluid motion, he climbed aboard.
He didn't knock. He didn't ask. He simply followed his nose.
Dining Hall – Marine Vessel "Cetus"
The room was pristine — polished floors, gilded corners, and tables that stretched like banquet dreams. Food, untouched and steaming, lined every surface.
Ephraim was already three plates in.
He ate like he'd fought a war and won. Fork in one hand, a bun in the other, he moved between dishes like a seasoned critic — if critics had no manners and bottomless stomachs.
In the far corner, two marines spoke in hushed tones.
"Orders from the captain," muttered the first. "Eyes peeled for a kid with hair like a skunk's tail. Reports say he's jumped four ships. Eats everything in sight."
The second one squinted.
"You mean that guy over there?"
They turned.
Ephraim, perfectly content, was in the middle of coaxing a plate toward him with the flick of his fingers. A faint shimmer pulsed around his hand — a glow of essence, drawing metal to palm with subtle magnetic grace.
Too late.
The marines marched over. One placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
Ephraim didn't flinch. He swatted it off like a mosquito, then casually pointed toward the ceiling.
The moment they looked up, he launched himself into the air — a perfect forward flip, graceful as a gymnast and twice as fast. Mid-spin, his essence flared again. The table and chair behind him rattled, then shot forward like missiles.
The chair collided with the first marine's face.
The table flattened them both.
"AGH!!"
Ephraim landed with the easy confidence of someone who'd done this before. His knapsack — now noticeably heavier — bounced against his back as he sprinted toward the door.
"STOP THAT THIEF!" one of them roared as the alarm shrieked through the hall.
Main Deck
The sails flapped as the wind howled, tugging at ropes and nerves alike. Marines swarmed the deck like bees from a kicked hive.
Ephraim darted through them with a grin stretched across his face — laughing, light-footed, completely in his element.
A young recruit, mop in hand, turned just as Ephraim approached.
"Hey, what are y—"
Too late.
Ephraim grabbed him by the collar and shoved him into the broom closet without a second thought. A few quick slams and the door was sealed.
"HELP!!" came the muffled yelp from inside.
Two marines — the same unfortunate pair from the dining hall — barreled around the corner.
Ephraim straightened, snapped into a sloppy salute, and spoke in his best impression of panic.
"Um, Captain, sir! I think the vig-a-lante went that way!"
He pointed outward — toward a distant figure bobbing in the clouds.
The marines squinted.
"GO GET THAT BASTARD!! NOW!!"
Without hesitation, they dove off the side of the ship. Ropes dropped. Boots slapped wood. Men splashed into the cloud-sea like cannonballs.
Down below, they reached the figure. They paused.
"Hold up..." one of them muttered.
"That's not—THAT'S NOT HIM! HE PLAYED US!!"
Back on the ship, Ephraim returned to the dining hall, now blissfully empty.
He strolled in like he'd forgotten his keys.
Without a word, he yanked a leg off one of the tables, wrapped it in cloth, and held out his hand. Dozens of plates rattled — then soared into his sack, clinking like treasure.
With his haul complete, he grabbed an oar, jogged to the edge of the ship, and leapt.
Cloud Sea – Drifting Between Worlds
The world grew quiet again.
Ephraim lay flat on his raft, chewing from his knapsack like it was a royal feast. The clouds rolled around him in soft waves, warm and thick as fleece.
Behind him, the decoy bobbed with the marines — furious and arguing over whose fault it was.
The recruit was still tied up, looking more like a sad mop than a person.
"You wanna go after him?" someone grumbled.
"Nah. Just a food thief. We've got bigger shit to worry about."
One of the marines rubbed the back of his head with a wince.
"Yeah… just annoying we lost a day's worth of rations."
Then his voice changed. Lower. Colder.
"After all… he was spotted in New Eden."
"Who?" another asked.
"God's only mistake."
New Eden – Seen from Afar
It rose ahead, shimmering through the cloud-mist like a dream remembered only half-right.
New Eden.
A city of impossible geometry and floating islands. Bridges of gold and glass curled through the air like ribbon, forming walkways between towers that defied logic and gravity. The buildings didn't just rise — they grew, spiraling like living stone, their surfaces etched with ancient glyphs that pulsed in time with something older than music.
The sky above shimmered with pale runes. Waterfalls flowed from nowhere, tumbling into basins that hovered midair. Lights danced through the city like trapped stars, blinking in and out of view.
Time bent near it. Sound warped.
And through it all, a low hum — deep, sacred, and haunting.
Ephraim's raft drifted closer, the city growing larger by the second.
He didn't know what waited for him there.
But something did.
Somewhere, in the space between what was and what might be, laughter echoed once more.
"Goku…"
Created and Written by Mateo Woodson Written and Story Boarded by John Fallout