…

  Somewhere else entirely...

  “Achoo!” A middle-aged man grabbed his already grimy shirt and wiped the snot from his nose with practiced efficiency. The fabric, stained with various food remnants and unidentifiable substances, made it somehow more vile. “Somebody’s talking about me... ow—”

  From across the cramped living room, someone launched a dented can of beans at his head with surprising accuracy. The voice that followed was high-pitched with youthful indignation. “Stop being so disgusting!”

  The man turned toward the source—a boy wearing a skin-tight Bruce Lee jumpsuit, his snow-white ears and tail bristling with anger, both appendages twitching in obvious annoyance.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, shoulders hunching as he looked away sheepishly. “Princess Muffin doesn’t seem to find it disgusting, thoug—”

  He fell silent as a massive figure in the corner fixed him with a withering stare that could have melted steel. The giant’s eyes held the kind of judgment usually reserved for the most heinous criminals. “Humph,” it exhaled, ignoring the man, and going back to chewing an unrecognizable kitchen utensil.

  The creature lay sprawled on a donut-shaped dog bed in a darker pink tone, surrounded by chewing toys that were either melted beyond recognition or destroyed entirely. A plush bear was trapped under one enormous scaly paw, its button eyes seeming to plead for a merciful death.

  “Never mind...” The man ignored them, reaching for another cigarette from the cluttered kitchen table, its surface buried under empty food containers, scattered papers covered in complex equations, and various scientific instruments that hummed quietly in the background. “Where was my mind again?” He mumbled a quick incantation—air and fire intertwining like dancing spirits, making the cigarette tip flare to life with a small puff of smoke. “Probably wasn’t that important anyway.”

  He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, his attention drifting to the boy, who was now mimicking martial arts moves from the television screen. The kid performed each technique with fierce enthusiasm, copying Bruce Lee’s fluid motions while his eyes blazed with pride and righteousness. Each punch and kick was executed with surprising precision for someone so young.

  “I should probably keep reading,” he mused, glancing toward the flimsy IKEA desk crammed into the corner. The furniture tilted precariously under the weight of a massive monitor, with the computer tower balanced on top to prevent the whole setup from toppling over. “Physics should be fine, or maybe some Social Studies to relax?”

  He shuffled lazily across the cluttered floor, navigating around scattered books and dirty plates. The old kitchen chair creaked ominously under his weight as he settled down, adjusting his thin frame on the worn cushion.

  “So... does Google have anything new for me today?” He tapped experimentally on the ancient IBM keyboard, its keys stained with ash that had drifted from the overflowing ashtray and crumbs from various snacks he’d consumed during long research sessions. “Where was the plus sign again?” His hunt-and-peck typing style betrayed his inability to type without looking, each keystroke deliberate but painfully slow.

  The apartment existed in a strange state of serenity—a place simultaneously far away from the world and intimately connected to it, offering refuge for those who suffered the pride and stubbornness for a certain individual.

  “Oh, this is really something—ow!” He looked back as the boy hurled another can of beans with remarkable accuracy, his expression twisted with disgust.

  “Stop watching porn!”

  “Sorry,” he chuckled, quickly closing the browser window before the questionable image could fully load. “Well, back to physics then.” He inhaled deeply from his cigarette, exhaling twin streams of smoke from his nostrils while scrolling through a partially viewed research paper. “I guess I can piece this puzzle together~”

  …

  Somewhere within human territory, inside an abandoned church...

  A young boy doubled over in the nave, his stomach churning violently as he vomited a considerable amount of blood onto the cracked stone floor. The crimson liquid splattered across worn prayers carved into the ancient stones, defiling words of hope with the stark evidence of his suffering.

  Shafts of colored light filtered through broken stained glass windows, painting the scene in fractured rainbows that seemed to mock the gravity of the moment. Dust motes danced lazily in the moonlight beams, completely undisturbed by the drama unfolding in the sacred space below.

  “Master! Are you alright?!” A worried voice echoed through the arched chamber as a dogkin boy came running, his boots creating sharp echoes against the cold stone. His ears were pressed flat against his head in distress, and his tail tucked between his legs in a clear display of anxiety.

  The Hero raised a trembling hand to halt his approach. “It’s fine, Dorian.” He opened his eyes slowly, and they began to gleam with an otherworldly light—golden-silver radiance that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality itself, as if he could suddenly see and understand the hidden mechanisms of existence.

  He rose to his feet with deliberate, controlled movements despite the obvious pain wracking his body. His neck cracked audibly as he rolled his shoulders, working out the tension that had built up from his ordeal.

  ‘I guess this final attempt will have to be the most dangerous one yet,’ he thought grimly, examining his hands as they shook uncontrollably. The trembling only ceased when his fingers closed around the familiar grip of the sword at his side, the weapon’s weight bringing him a measure of hard-won peace.

  His gaze drifted to the towering statue dominating one side of the church—the first Hero, carved from rough stone with obvious love and devotion despite the crude craftsmanship. Weather and countless years had worn away some of the finer details, but the figure’s noble bearing remained unmistakable, a testament to enduring ideals.

  ‘As if that matters now,’ he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he focused his thoughts on the Saint he had dispatched on this impossible mission. ‘Fourteen times I’ve tried, but this time... this time you won’t take away what I love most.’ His body began to glisten with golden and silver aura—noble and holy radiance that transformed him into the living embodiment of divine justice.

  The next moment, his veins contracted like iron cables under immense pressure, his heartbeat thundering so loudly in his chest it seemed to shake the very foundations of the church. The willpower of gods surged through his mortal frame like liquid fire. When he opened his eyes again, they blazed with divine purpose as he looked down at Dorian, who had instinctively dropped to his knees in reverence. The sight brought a serene, almost peaceful smile to the Hero’s lips.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “No need to kneel, remember?” He walked with slightly unsteady steps toward the boy, though his footfalls made barely a whisper against the ancient stone. “Let’s go meet that noble brat—”

  Dorian sprang to his feet with infectious enthusiasm, nodding eagerly as his large brown eyes sparkled with unwavering devotion. “Of course! I’ll prepare everything right away!” He bounded toward their makeshift quarters to gather their traveling supplies, his youthful energy forming a stark contrast to his master’s weary but determined demeanor, even though same in age, theoretically.

  The Hero remained in place, watching the boy’s retreating form with love and endearment.

  “This is the last chance before I must abandon you, my old friend.” His grip tightened on the sword’s hilt until his knuckles turned white. “Do me this one favor—kill this little bastard while we still can, understood?”

  The blade shimmered and vibrated with barely contained power, responding to his words with an almost eager vibration.

  “Good.” He strode purposefully toward the church’s entrance, where frigid mountain air immediately bit at his exposed face and set his golden-blonde hair dancing in the wind. Stars wheeled overhead in their eternal dance, utterly indifferent to the struggles and ambitions of the mortals below.

  “One for all? A peaceful world?” The Hero’s [Energy] surged around his youthful body like visible flames, then condensed with frightening speed around his right hand that gripped the sword. “I do what I want, you bastards.”

  He drew the sword with a motion so fluid it seemed choreographed by the gods themselves, raising it toward the heavens in a gesture that was simultaneously defiant and reverent. Divine words spilled from his lips in the ancient tongue, each syllable crackling with power that made the very air around him vibrate with barely contained force.

  “All or nothing!” The sword erupted in brilliant light that shot skyward like a pillar of pure radiance, illuminating the landscape for miles around and turning night into day. “No divinity will shield your madness once you step outside your comfortable sanctuary!”

  The light pierced the heavens themselves, a challenge issued to gods and monsters alike.

  …

  Pure-Steam Island, before Marisia fell under an illusion...

  A blinding flash of light appeared at a safe distance from the destruction that had suddenly erupted across the island. Within that protective radiance, the trainee Saint materialized, wheezing and coughing violently as she struggled to catch her breath.

  The staff that had protected her through the ordeal slowly materialized back into existence, flowing like liquid mercury as it swirled back into her trembling hand, providing the support she desperately needed. Yet it was much smaller than before, and the perpetually swirling circles around its top were now cracked and moving shakily, betraying the damage she had sustained.

  “How?” Luze-Ferris collapsed to her knees, hands shaking uncontrollably as the staff buried itself deeper into the swampy earth of the jungle floor. “How could I possibly lose?”

  Luze-Ferris couldn’t comprehend what had just transpired—how a single person had fought both her and the guardian angel with such devastating ease and obvious joy. It was a revelation that shattered her understanding of the world, forcing to confront the reality that existence wasn’t as simple or ordered as taught. Something else was at work here, something beyond comprehension, unable to anchor any sane thoughts while gripping her partially torn robe, a reality check.

  No excuses remained—a fauna at the [First Conjecture] appearing and utterly humiliating her? As a Saint by title, even as a trainee, she had expected a power difference, instead met complete mockery.

  “I... am I actually anxious?” The admission came as a shock to someone trained to be beyond such mortal concerns—a conduit for the gods, divinity itself made manifest.

  Luze-Ferris turned her head carefully, looking at the [Energies] still pushing outward in visible waves like a violent mist that enveloped all the land and brought absolute destruction in its wake. Once touched by the scarlet death, leaves turned instantly to dust, flowers withered into nothingness, and mighty trees cracked and splintered. The power was so despicable that her continuously radiating [Holy Energy] could barely halt the advancing devastation.

  “What...” Luze-Ferris felt wetness on her cheeks and touched them gently in surprise. The overwhelming intensity wasn’t something she felt ready to confront again. “I have to flee.”

  While every fiber of her being insisted that the divine task must be fulfilled, she was forced to acknowledge that pursuing it now would be nothing short of a suicide mission. Marisia S. Leonandra was a true monster, and Luze-Ferris even suspected that what she had witnessed wasn’t the girl’s full strength—a thought that made her shiver despite the warm and humid island air.

  “Run,” she whispered to herself, straightening up on unsteady legs and putting her entire weight onto the damaged staff as she looked around desperately. She needed to reach the island’s center, find somewhere to hide, and leave immediately. “I have to. There’s no other way.”

  Memories of their very first confrontation resurfaced unbidden—an [Energy] that was utterly insatiable, able to feed on everything living. Unlimited, destructive, parasitic. Something Marisia hadn’t even used, instead choosing to fight as a knight in close combat. It had been completely unwinnable from the start.

  But as Luze-Ferris turned to flee, readying all her movement [Skills], a divine revelation suddenly washed over her like a tidal wave. A massive beam of light burst toward her from the sky, enveloping her completely in its radiance.

  “Your task is not over,” a voice spoke through the divine tongue, sounding as if thousands of angels were singing in perfect harmony. “I will give you the power to complete your mission, Luze-Ferris, and you shall become my most loyal servant and comrade.”

  In the next moment, she screamed as agony beyond description tore through her being. Her eyes blazed with golden-silver light as pain flooded every part of her existence, her very soul being ripped apart piece by piece and then forcibly reconstructed.

  Around the blazing radiance, three intricate circles appeared, each one symbolizing the church and its core ethos. The sacred geometries pulsed with power, sapping away her newfound divine [Energy] and increasing the pain to unimaginable levels.

  “You shall receive aid,” the divine voice spoke, filling Luze-Ferris with a sole purpose—to serve and become what she was chosen to be, a perfect conduit for the gods. “Stop all evil.”

  Inside the circles, three beads of radiant light materialized from her very soul and the divine illumination itself, gradually growing and taking shape as three holy beasts from ancient legends. Their power surged at a pace only the gods themselves could permit, reaching the initial stage of the [Second Conjecture], though somehow still diminished, as if there hadn’t been enough raw [Energy] available to allow them to evolve completely.

  After the brutal transformation process concluded, the surrounding space exploded with an [Aura] filled with divine virtue. The [Holy Energy] pushed all the scarlet mist away from their immediate vicinity, but instead of reviving the corrupted nature, it simply destroyed everything further that was not deemed pure—a harsh interpretation of the church’s rigid doctrine.

  Luze-Ferris fell heavily onto one knee, her mind no longer capable of resisting the divine command that now dominated all thoughts. “Kill Alexander and his siblings,” she spoke with mechanical precision, her expression changing completely as if this was the only task that had ever existed in her mind—a sole purpose of existing. “There is no other way to prevent the coming catastrophe.”

  She looked around at her new companions, three magnificent beasts surrounding her and awaiting command with supernatural patience. “Wait,” she closed her eyes, feeling her power slowly refilling like water poured into a cracked vessel. She began chanting a hymn, her voice carrying an otherworldly beauty that seemed to make the very air shimmer with divine resonance.

  After another moment, she opened her eyes again, looking decisively in three distinct directions across the island. “You go there,” she commanded, and the first holy beast vanished in a flash of golden light. “You go there,” she ordered the second, which disappeared just as quickly. As her enhanced mind turned back to consider Marisia, she was forced to accept that there was far more at stake than simple wounded pride from her devastating loss and past grudges.

  “Help me up,” she requested, and the last beast bowed down gracefully, allowing her to climb onto its back with slow, deliberate movements.

  ‘This should be enough for a bunch of children,’ Luze-Ferris thought with cold calculation as she struggled to find her balance. While she was nowhere close to her previous peak strength, what remained of her power, combined with her damaged staff and the divine enhancement, should be sufficient to fulfill her divinely mandated task—even if it meant sacrificing her own life in the process.

  Sitting astride the holy beast, she gazed toward one of the camps scattered across the island, her eyes now burning with zealous purpose. “Time to eviscerate all evil,” she declared, and in the next instant, both rider and mount vanished into the distance.

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