“[The Pride of the Divine Phoenix]?”

  The moment Marisia’s eyes fell upon the [Skill] in her [System Window], the world seemed to exhale its last breath. Time crystallized around her like amber, trapping even the dust motes that had been dancing in the filtered light. Holiness spread through the space like spilled wine on white silk, staining everything with its overwhelming presence of gold and silver.

  ?I understand now,? the guardian angel materialized several feet before the motionless Marisia, its expression so stoic it seemed carved from marble.

  It took a deliberate step forward, each footfall echoing like a funeral bell in the suspended silence—a tempest of holy power that made the very foundations of the chamber groan in protest. The guardian angel’s form flickered like a dying candle flame, its exhaustion evident in the way its edges blurred and reformed.

  ?Someone with this [Skill] cannot be permitted to draw another breath,? the words escaped, betraying the storm brewing within.

  Too many [Skills] existed in this world, scattered like seeds across the realm. While many were deemed grand or overwhelming—[Flash] with its blinding speed, [Grandeur’s Fencing] with its elegant lethality—their rarity became meaningless in the face of true singularities. Fewer than a handful possessed the power to alter the fate of all who lived and breathed.

  The guardian angel advanced another step, its bare feet making no sound against the stained wooden floor. ?Losing to this mere mortal... it had to be because of this abomination.? Its marble composure cracked, revealing the seething anger beneath as it recalled the true horror of [The Pride of the Divine Phoenix].

  A [Skill] born from unimaginable physical and mental torment—from a soul perpetually balanced on the razor’s edge between sanity and madness—that granted its bearer something which should belong only to the gods chosen themselves. Complete regeneration of body and mind within three days’ time, returning the wielder to peak condition no matter the damage sustained. Severed limbs would regrow, shattered minds would heal, and even the deepest wounds of the soul would close without so much as a scar.

  The angel’s arm stretched forth, fingers glistening with righteous divinity, aiming to stop this blasphemy. ?But you cannot heal from everything, mortal.? Its power surged to an unimaginable peak, the very air crackling with [Divine Energy] as it prepared to sacrifice its own existence to claim another. It knew that once it could burrow into her consciousness like a parasite, it could transform her into nothing more than a lifeless puppet—forever broken, forever unable to reach her true potential.

  The gods gave every sapient being a body, mind, and soul to develop and nurture, like watering a garden of saplings. Only once someone reached the [First Conjecture] would they become truly sapient.

  They would gain [Age] in Tier 2, proof of survival. [Height] and [Weight] in Tier 3 and 4, acknowledgment of a physical form. [Sex]—the divine right to copulate with the opposite sex, to bear children and become parents—in Tier 5. Last but not least, the right to have a [Race], the final acknowledgment of existence, the right to forever know their place in the world at Tier 6, and thus a body was formed.

  The [Second Conjecture] would bring enlightenment of the mind, and at the [Third Conjecture], the soul would awaken. Now, the guardian angel had to forbid this individual from ever reaching any of those milestones, as their power would only accelerate, finding undeserved acknowledgment from Orbis itself. As such, someone still at the [First Conjecture], even one born from divinity itself, should be easy prey—even if it meant self-sacrifice.

  Yet as the guardian angel closed to within an inch of Marisia’s frozen form, an invisible pressure slammed into it like a physical wall. Scarlet tendrils, writhing like ten thousand hungry insects, erupted from nowhere to coil around its spectral body, binding it with a divinity that made the angel’s upper lip curl in disgust.

  ?Long time no see~?

  A specter of mist and madness materialized behind the guardian angel, arms wrapping around it in a mockery of an embrace. The newcomer’s form shifted like smoke in a brothel—sometimes solid, sometimes translucent, but always radiating an aura of barely contained chaos.

  ?Who... who are you?? The guardian angel’s voice came out as a strangled croak, its spectral body unable to move, unable to dissolve, unable to do anything but remain trapped in those crimson bonds.

  ?Good ol’ me? How could you forget me, little Hero slave~? The specter’s voice carried the sweetness of poisoned honey, each word dripping with mock affection.

  With a casual wave of her hand, the surrounding scenery shattered like glass, fragments of reality spinning away into nothingness. ?Enough harassing my cute little girl~?

  The chamber dissolved, replaced by an impossible vista—they now floated high above a mountain peak, looking down upon a scene that seemed torn from a more peaceful time.

  ?How serene,? her voice softened to a whisper as they slowly floated downward like invisible voyeurs. ?No time like the past.?

  Below them sprawled a camp centered around a crackling bonfire, its orange flames dancing against the deep purple of twilight. The warm glow painted the gathered faces in gold and amber as they laughed and joked, their voices carrying up through the crisp mountain air like music.

  ?You see this?? The specter’s fingers began to elongate, writhing like serpents as they approached the angel’s eyes, prying the lids wider apart. Her voice carried the barest hint of barely restrained fury beneath its playful tone.

  The scene below came into sharper focus, revealing only those she deemed worthy, as if viewed through a selective filter. Dozens of figures wandered about the camp, steam rising from bowls of soup as they shared stories and gentle flirtations.

  ?I miss them,? the scenery shifted again, their interactions appearing before the floating pair like a slideshow of carefully remembered moments, painted with the brush strokes of missing love.

  ?She always hated me,? despite her words, the tone carried deep endearment. ?But she never discriminated against children.?

  A priestess with midnight-black angel wings sat cross-legged in the dirt, uncaring that her pristine white robe became stained with earth and grass. “Then came from the shadow,” she read from a worn fairy tale book to a mixed group of children—human, elf, dwarf, beastkin, and more. No preferences existed for those who had been forced to bring their young ones on dangerous travels. “A monster—argh!” The children screamed in delighted terror as she threw back her head and laughed with infectious cheer. Her voice transformed with each character, bringing the story to vivid life as young eyes gleamed with wonder in the dancing firelight.

  ?Oh, and how could I forget my flat-chested best friend~? Her voice filled with loving mockery as the scene changed again—a wolfkin girl with twin daggers strapped to her thighs jabbed an accusatory finger into the chest of a nervous orc. “You think you’re so great, you green-skinned fat bastard?! A duel! I want a duel!”

  ?A gentle soul, but once enraged... haha! What a bloodbath that was!? The poor orc held his massive hands up in desperate surrender. Two single-handed axes hung at his sides, and a massive ornate totem was strapped across his broad back, its carved surface gleaming with protective runes in the firelight.

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  ?’Follow the plan,’ he said! Pah! My techniques require raw emotion! Not some written piece of parchment!? The scene shifted again, revealing the interior of a canvas tent where warm lamplight spilled through fabric walls. A furry—more fox than human—stood in a stained lab coat, hunched over a cluttered workbench. A giant monocle floated before one eye, displaying intricate enchantments in glowing script, while smoke curled from a cigarette dangling between his lips. Across from him, an elf’s face grew progressively redder as he gripped his intricate staff, a vein throbbing at his temple during their heated discussion.

  “Put that out, you nomadic bastard!” the elf snarled.

  The fox straightened up, raising an eyebrow with practiced nonchalance. “Will we have another debate about the importance of medicinal herbs?” His black-lined lips curled into a smirk. “Does losing to me bring you such joy?”

  As the screaming match erupted, their view changed once more, each scene accompanied by commentary filled with as much endearment as before—no judgment or hate, simply longing for a time long gone.

  A dwarf hammered rhythmically at a glowing sword beside a portable forge, sparks flying like tiny stars—her focus undisturbed by the apprentices watching with slack-jawed awe. Beside her, a fairy with crimson-tinted wings hovered inside the forge’s oven, eyes closed in concentration as she maintained the flames with supernatural precision.

  A giant—at least five meters in height—slept peacefully against an ancient oak, his chest rising and falling like a breathing mountain. Curled upon his massive torso, a fauna creature resembling an ordinary house-cat dozed in a perfect ball, though its form suggested an almost omniscient awareness.

  A gnome and goblin, both sporting oversized goggles, worked frantically to enchant armor plates and explosive devices. They muttered incantations under their breath while discussing the intricacies of their preferred mechanisms, occasionally pausing to nod enthusiastically at each other before returning to their gleeful work.

  A troll with deep crimson eyes laughed heartily while stirring a massive cauldron of soup, his natural abilities seeping into the aromatic steam. The scent was so divine that even emperors would kneel for a single sip, yet it remained as nourishing as it was delicious—a single bowl capable of recovering even the most serious fatigue. Beside him, a treant scolded the troll whenever he attempted to add meat to the mixture, instead tearing pieces from its own crown of fruits and tossing them into the broth while continuing to berate the laughing cook, who puffed contentedly on a wooden pipe.

  A small vampire girl, dressed entirely in gothic black, sat perched upon a gnarled tree branch reading a leather-bound tome. Her eyes darted back and forth between the pages and the laughter-filled game of tag being played below by small children and dancing elementals.

  Every one of these remarkable individuals was surrounded by armies of onlookers and admirers, all seeking guidance and knowledge from beings who had no family or peace, but possessed an unstoppable drive to perpetually become something more—something better. Their pursuit of perfection was relentless and inspiring.

  ?All the sacrifices we made.? The specter’s voice grew colder, each word like a shard of ice as the scene changed one final time. ?We forsook everything for your na?ve idealistic fantasies.?

  At the bonfire’s heart sat a human, absently tapping his deceptively ordinary sword with a stick topped by a fluffy wool ball. Beside him, cross-legged on a weathered tree stump, sat a demon whose appearance bore an eerie resemblance to the specter now holding the angel captive. Her double-sided axe leaned against the stump as she spoke wistfully about missing her family, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames and distant conversations.

  ?All your friends... for what?? The sadness in her voice transformed into unbreakable rage, her long-forgotten roots surfacing like poison. ??Vos, japonés boludo! ?Sal, o te saco yo mismo, Hiro!?

  The guardian angel’s form began to dissolve like sugar in rain, though the crimson tendrils held it firmly in place as its body shifted to match the one in the memory, but with eyes as cold as winter stone. ?Long time no see, Valentina.?

  Valentina dissolved and reappeared before him, her form clearer and more menacing than before. ?Tell me, you little shit—what brought you into my domain? Do you have a death wish??

  Hiro’s gaze drifted to the peaceful scene below, and he released a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of aeons. When he looked back at her, resignation had replaced the coldness in his features. ?The current Hero has overused his abilities trying to prevent a catastrophe.?

  Valentina raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting to one of amused curiosity. ?A catastrophe?? She chuckled, the sound like glass breaking in reverse. ?One involving my domain and the little cutie?? New tendrils grew from behind her back, expanding outward like the petals of some hellish flower and surrounding Hiro with utmost hostility. ?You better tell me the truth, otherwise I’ll have to break our little deal~?

  There existed an unspoken rule between divine beings—those who had ascended through sacrifice and desperation. Divine beings weren’t permitted to interfere directly in mortal affairs if they wished to avoid being crushed by Orbis itself, and even less so through their chosen ones. Their cosmic order separated earth, water, and heaven, creating deities whose control wouldn’t overreach beyond their designated champions.

  Hiro shook his head slowly as the tendrils closed in, their barbed tips barely touching the silvery-golden [Energy] surrounding him. ?Not exactly.?

  Combat between Heroes, Saints, Sages, and other mortals was acceptable—even permissible—but once [Divinity] entered the fray with significant potency, it could be described as a declaration of war between domains, since the very pillars of their realms would become engaged. Otherwise, even a fully powered Guardian Angel couldn’t overpower Marisia’s mental fortitude.

  ?Well then,? her tendrils coiled around his body like invasive roots, their barbs making him shudder involuntarily. ?You’d better explain why you sent a Trainee Saint with so much [Holy Energy]. It’s obvious the church itself is backing her.? Multiple tendrils paused at his temples, their tips glowing with malevolent energy.

  The church had their established candidates—Heroes, Saints, the Pope—those who were fed strength until they became powerhouses and representatives. They would gain strength similar to divinity by borrowing power from beings long dead and unable to manifest in the mortal world.

  Valentina’s methods were fundamentally different—survival of the fittest. She didn’t care about strength or intelligence; all she wanted was for them to survive. Her miasma worked as a conduit to gain powers beyond belief through suffering alone. She only intervened when a desire became so powerful it was like an aphrodisiac, pushing individuals toward either disaster or glory. No chosen ones, no divine protection—simple adaptation through trial by fire.

  ?Alexander.? His eyes became as cold and lifeless as winter lakes. ?It’s about her son. According to the current Hero, he must be hunted down.?

  All Heroes, regardless of their individual strength or weakness, became unified once they took up the sacred sword—their experiences would slowly ingrain themselves into each new chosen one, granting unimaginable powers accumulated across generations. They were forged to be the church’s ultimate blade.

  Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sound of laughter from the memory playing out below. Then Valentina’s laugh erupted—cold, sharp, and infinitely more terrifying than any scream.

  ?Hahaha.? All tendrils withdrew from his body, only to be replaced by dozens more, shaped like tiny claws that positioned themselves around him with predatory precision. ?I have precious little influence over what happens to that boy, sadly~?

  ?What do you mean?? Hiro’s usually calm demeanor shattered completely, his voice filled with confusion. ?Isn’t he under your domain??

  The small claws closed in, grasping him piece by piece like a puzzle being disassembled with surgical precision. ?An otherworlder who actually wants to force his disgustingly Earthly ideologies onto everyone else?? The hero’s eyes widened in sudden understanding as she continued, her voice dripping with disdain. ?The Professor would have quite a few words about that, and the last thing I want is to deal with that repulsive creature here~?

  ?How can he still be—?

  She cut him off with a dismissive gesture, her eyes glazing over with boredom as all claws invaded him simultaneously, filling his mouth and wrapping around his form to silence any further protest, even as distress painted his features.

  ?How?? She shrugged with theatrical indifference. ?His experiment was successful, but frankly, I don’t give a damn~?

  Beside her domain existed many other divine beings, both new and ancient, all wanting to play a part in shaping the world, to transform it into their vision of paradise. But none were as stubborn as the Professor—his ambitions had led to his suicide in the name of progress. Yet until now, his so-called progress had only manifested in bursts of rage and madness within certain races, continuing until none remained to carry his twisted legacy.

  When she had tried to examine the boy for herself, suffering from the ailment, intrigued by his unusual history, Valentina found herself blocked—fully and entirely—by the only being capable of such interference.

  ?I’ll be taking your precious divine essence for my Marisia, and if you dare show yourself here again~? Her hands moved with deceptive gentleness to cradle his head. ?I’ll forget our little deal and crush your pathetic church until not even rubble remains!?

  With a sound like thunder cracking the sky, his head exploded in a shower of golden sparkles that danced through the air like fireflies before fading into nothingness.

  As the light died away, she gazed down into the memory of the tent below, her expression shifting to one of pure disgust. ?He hasn’t failed, indeed.? She began to shake violently, as if trying to dispel something unclean from her very essence. ?Disgusting little fox.?

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