I died an old pug. Peacefully. Warm blanket. Chicken dreams. Then I woke up in a new world, still a pug, but now the runt of a divine litter born to a literal godbeast. My siblings are radiant wolf godspawn destined to save a nation. I wheeze on stairs and get stuck in ceremonial robes. Now, my goddess-mom is dead, the holy empire is panicking, and everyone’s expecting miracles. I have no mana. No prophecy. While my siblings roar, I read. While nobles scheme, I nap. An underdog fantasy about divine legacies, spiritual politics, and what happens when the pug refuses to roll over.
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