The couple drifted away in silence, their footsteps soft against the damp earth. Pacificus clutched Merina close, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, fingers trembling as though this might be the last time he would ever hold her. His heart weighed heavily in his chest, each step burdened by the uncertainty of the future. Merina leaned into him, drawing strength from his touch, though she could feel the tension radiating through his body. The darkness around them seemed both oppressive and comforting, swallowing them whole as they disappeared deeper into the shadows of Gaia's domain.

From the heart of her temple, Gaia watched them go, her primordial eyes tracking their every movement until they were swallowed by the inky blackness. Her expression remained serene, yet a flicker of something ancient and unknowable stirred within her as she observed the fragile couple depart.

"Amazing, isn't it, my fair consort?" she mused aloud, her voice a soft, melodic ripple that seemed to echo through the stillness of the temple.

From behind her, a voice responded, low and powerful, its very resonance carrying a weight that could crush mortal ears. "Indeed," came the reply, Thanatos, the Primordial god of death, materializing from the void. His presence was like the stillness before an inevitable end, calm yet overwhelming. "Humans are truly remarkable. Only in their eyes do I see such determination, such raw defiance of fate. No other species possesses that flame."

Gaia smiled faintly, her gaze still on the path where the couple had disappeared. "Mortality is Elion’s greatest gift, my beloved. It is their fleeting existence that makes them burn so brightly."

"Yes," Thanatos agreed, his voice like a distant storm. "Indeed, my beloved. Mortality drives them to do what even the gods cannot."

----------------------------------------

"Rina, please reconsider," Pacificus pleaded, his voice trembling as he fell to his knees before the woman he loved. His hands clutched the edge of her tunic, his eyes wide with desperation, gazing up at her as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. The weight of his fear hung heavy in the air, suffocating him with every passing moment.

Merina sighed softly, her eyes tender as she reached down and cupped his face in her hands. "Pacy..." she whispered, her fingers brushing against his cheek, wiping away the tears that glistened in the dim light.

"I can't lose you," Pacificus choked, his voice raw and broken, his heart cracking at the edges. "Please, Rina... I can't bear it. Not you. Not now."

Merina's smile was bittersweet as she gazed down at him, her own tears threatening to spill over. She held them back, determined to be strong for him, for the both of them. "Oh, Pacy," she murmured, her voice soft yet firm. "You have elven blood in your veins... you’ll outlive me." Her hand slipped from his face and moved to her belly, cradling the life growing within her. "But this child... with this child, I can leave behind a legacy. Our legacy."

Pacificus shook his head, his heart tearing in two. "Rina, no... I want to spend all the time I have left with you. With you, here, by my side."

Merina blinked back her tears, her heart aching at the sight of him so broken, so vulnerable. She leaned closer, pressing her forehead against his, her breath warm against his lips. "Look at me, Pacy," she whispered. "I’m only human... I’m destined to die as a human. That’s the fate I can’t escape." Her voice quivered, but her resolve did not waver. "But with this child, Pacy... with this child, I can leave something behind. I can leave our legacy."

"Rina..." he started, but his voice faltered.

"Promise me," she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders now, her eyes searching his, desperate for his understanding. "Promise me, my love. Promise me that you will love our child... that you’ll take care of this child, our child, until the day you die. Promise me, Pacy."

His throat tightened, and for a moment, Pacificus couldn’t speak, the words stuck in his throat like thorns. "I... I’ll try," he managed, his voice hoarse and uncertain.

Merina’s lips trembled into a smile, though her eyes shone with unshed tears. "Pacy... let’s get married."

He blinked, startled, his heart skipping a beat. "Rina?"

"This child," she said, her hand resting protectively over her belly, "is a labor of our love. I don’t want our child to be born without a name, to be called a bastard. Pacy... will you marry a human like me?"

Without hesitation, Pacificus took her hands in his, pressing them tightly against his chest, his heart thundering beneath her palms. "Of course," he whispered, his voice steady now, filled with the depth of his love for her. "Of course I will, Rina."

And this time, Merina let the tears fall freely, her smile breaking through the sorrow. She leaned down and kissed him, her tears mingling with his. "Thank you, Pacy," she whispered against his lips, her voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you so much."

----------------------------------------

Their marriage was simple, yet it carried a weight that transcended the earth. The quiet witnesses of this sacred union were not a bustling crowd of humans but a majestic herd of kirins, their coats shimmering in the dappled light filtering through the trees. From the shadows, Thanatos, the Primordial god of death, silently observed the couple, his presence felt but unseen. His eyes, ancient and knowing, rested upon them, while the goddess of life herself, Gaia, stepped forward to bless the union.

When Gaia appeared, there was no contradiction in her form—a rare display from the deity who so often embodied the dualities of existence. Her presence, harmoniously balanced, felt like a deep reverence toward the mortal couple. Merina and Pacificus, in their awe, didn’t understand fully why she chose to appear this way, but they were profoundly grateful. It was as though Gaia, in her infinite wisdom, acknowledged their love in its truest, simplest form.

Merina’s wedding dress, made from the white silk spun by giant larvae, was a symbol of her resourcefulness and connection to nature. The fabric draped around her with a softness that mimicked the gentle flow of water, adorned with intricate patterns of leaves and flowers, a reflection of the forest’s life force. Pacificus stood beside her, clad in a barong woven from the same silk, his attire mirroring hers with subtle floral and leafy designs. The forest had become their inspiration, each stitch and thread a tribute to the world they cherished.

There were no rings exchanged between them, no traditional garlands. Instead, the couple exchanged soul flowers, delicate yet radiant blossoms that shimmered with a mystical glow. Pacificus now carried Merina’s vibrant red flower, its petals pulsating like a heartbeat, while Merina held Pacificus’s serene blue flower, glowing softly like the calm before dawn. These flowers, connected to their very souls, would continue to glow as long as they both lived, a symbol of their bond that transcended flesh and time.

As they made their vows, the soul flowers flared brighter, bathing the couple in their light as they kissed to seal their promises. The kirins, who had watched the ceremony with silent reverence, erupted in celebration. They growled, roared, and neighed in approval, their sounds reverberating through the forest. Some of them took to the sky, their hooves gliding through the air as they circled the sacred space, adding to the sense of magic and wonder that surrounded the couple.

Gaia and Thanatos remained quiet, their smiles gentle yet profound. The mortals couldn’t see their expressions directly, but they could feel the warmth and approval radiating from the divine figures. The air itself seemed to hum with a sacred energy, something so simple yet filled with reverence, as though the very earth, sky, and the spirits that dwelled within it bore witness to their union.

In that moment, beneath the canopy of ancient trees and the gaze of mythical beings, their marriage felt not just like a union of two souls but a merging of worlds—human and divine, mortal and eternal. Simple, sacred, and everlasting.

----------------------------------------

Months had passed since Pacificus and Merina retreated into the Ever Resting Forest, and life outside their sanctuary thrived in unexpected ways. Pacificus's old hut, nestled near the forest’s edge, had become a hub of activity, home to a new family of unlikely companions.

A young girl named Demeter now called the hut her own. She tended to Pacificus's sprawling, enchanted garden with the help of Hyakinthos, whose delicate, ethereal beauty stood in stark contrast to the rugged practicality of the farm work. Apollo often joined them, drawn to the hut not only for the peaceful respite but for the thriving river garden that fascinated him. The garden, a marvel of hydroponics, pulsed with life, herbs flourishing in the flowing water, their leaves vibrant and potent for his potions. The three of them, a strange yet harmonious trio, kept the place alive with their shared labor and camaraderie.

At night, the serene atmosphere would shift. Artemis, fierce and silent, would return from her nocturnal hunts. Her prey often included the massive grass boars, creatures as large as bulls, their hides thick and bristling with fur. These hunts were a rare privilege granted by her mother, Caecilia, who only permitted such outings once a month under strict supervision. Artemis's brothers, Apollo and Hyakinthos, watched over her along with a warrior monk of Juno, their presence a constant reminder of the discipline and caution required in these wild lands.

Among them was Zus, a young orphaned boy adopted by Leto. His silence spoke volumes, haunted by the memory of his mother, who had perished defending their town in the last siege. Yet despite his quiet nature, Zus thrived in the outdoors. He ran races with the other children on the track Pacificus had once built, his lithe body racing across the earth with surprising agility. His affinity for athletics was clear, but what puzzled Artemis most was his ease with the girls. He seemed to attract their attention, even the older girls, who cooed over him as if he were a charming young prince. One of her guards even confessed a soft spot for the boy, much to Artemis's silent bewilderment.

Nearby, a new structure had risen—a barracks for the warrior monks of Vesta, though it had quickly transformed from a simple outpost into a full-fledged temple. Stone walls now encased the two-story building, which served not only as a defensive structure but also as an orphanage. Here, the children of the siege, much like Zus, found solace and purpose, tending to Pacificus’s unique and often dangerous crops.

The farm, fed by Pacificus's careful cultivation, yielded wonders. Barometz, mandrakes, and even carnivorous plants thrived alongside more common crops like potatoes and cabbages, though the latter grew to such monstrous proportions they seemed almost unreal. Monks and orphans alike maintained the fields, their toil rewarded with bountiful harvests that were sold in nearby towns. Demeter, alongside Lasion—a peculiar boy with an obsession for man-eating flowers—worked together as cooks, often experimenting with the strange and exotic ingredients the farm produced. As they spent more time together, their bond deepened, with Lasion’s odd fascinations balanced by Demeter’s calm and steady presence.

But not all the changes were as heartwarming. Minos, once the youngest among them, had developed an unusual fixation. It all began when the farm was invaded by a beast—a towering minotaur, its body rippling with muscle, its head and lower half that of a bull. The battle had been fierce, the creature wielding crude weapons of sticks and stones, but after a lengthy struggle, the minotaur retreated into the forest. Since then, Minos could think of nothing else. He sketched the minotaur in the dirt, sculpted its image in clay, and even fashioned a horned helmet to wear around the farm. "Minotaurs are cool," he would say, much to the confusion of those around him.

As the seasons shifted and summer arrived, life on the farm became a battlefield once again. A relentless wave of wingless grasshoppers, each as long as an arm, descended upon the crops. They came in droves, a living tide of destruction. Apollo, Artemis, and Hyakinthos joined the monks and children in defense of the farm, throwing poison-laced pots crafted by Apollo himself into the swarm. Despite their best efforts, it wasn’t enough. The creatures kept coming, relentless in their hunger.

In response, they constructed makeshift walls around the farm, barricading themselves against the brown tide of insects. Every day became a struggle, with everyone from the youngest child to the most seasoned monk fighting off the invaders. Yet, amid the chaos, there was strange joy. The grasshoppers, once defeated, revealed a surprising secret—their shells turned a vibrant red when cooked, and their flesh was oddly delicious. What had started as a desperate defense became a bizarre feast, as the defenders celebrated their victories over plates of roasted grasshopper, their laughter echoing across the farm.

----------------------------------------

Merina lay in the heart of the Ever Resting Forest, her body trembling from the intense waves of pain, clutching Pacificus's hand as if it were her only anchor. His heart wrenched at every scream that tore through her, and he could do nothing but watch, helpless, as she endured the agonizing ordeal. Around them, the ancient kirins stood in solemn silence, their shimmering coats reflecting the glow of the forest. The air was thick with anticipation, and the Goddess of Life, her presence woven into the very earth, stood by Merina's side. Her tendrils of vines, leaves, and softly glowing branches supported the laboring woman like nature itself cradling her.

“Push, young one,” the goddess murmured with gentle insistence, her voice filled with an ancient patience. “You are so close.”

Merina’s cry of anguish filled the forest once again, louder this time, a sound of pure, primal pain that rattled even the air around them. Her entire body strained, and sweat glistened on her forehead. Her chest heaved with labored breaths, her mind dancing on the edge of consciousness. She had never known pain like this, a pain that seemed to swallow her whole, threatening to pull her into the abyss with each contraction.

“One more, young one,” coaxed the goddess. “Just one more.”

With the last of her strength, Merina gave a final, guttural scream, pushing with all her might. Then, through the haze of agony, she heard it—a tiny, fragile cry that pierced the night. And just like that, everything went black.

“Merina!” Pacificus's voice cracked with fear as he knelt beside her, his heart pounding with terror that something had gone horribly wrong.

“She is fine, Azrael,” the goddess reassured him, her tone calm and certain. “Childbirth is a sacred, arduous trial. She only needs rest.”

In the goddess’s arms, where vines and branches entwined in a cradle of life, she held a tiny, swaddled figure. The embers within her natural form flickered softly, illuminating the newborn’s delicate features. The goddess’s glowing gaze fell on Pacificus, her voice a warm breeze through the trees. “Azrael, meet your daughter.”

Tears welled in Pacificus's eyes, blurring his vision as his hands, trembling with a mix of joy and disbelief, reached out to take the child. The baby felt impossibly small in his arms, her soft skin and closed eyes sending a surge of emotions through him like he had never felt before. He gazed down at her, his chest heaving, overcome by an overwhelming love that threatened to burst from within him. His tears fell freely as he whispered, voice shaking, “I promise... to love you forever. Everything I have, everything I am... is yours.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Behind him, Merina stirred slightly, her lips curling into a gentle smile as she heard the vow spoken. Even through her exhaustion, her heart swelled with joy at the sound of Pacificus's love, knowing their legacy had truly begun.

A few hours later, Merina awoke, cradled in the embrace of the divine forest. The bed of leaves, vines, and soft branches beneath her formed a natural cradle, holding her with the gentleness of a mother’s arms. The tendrils of life wrapped around her, providing warmth and comfort, a reminder of the Goddess’s presence still watching over them. As she opened her eyes, she saw their newborn daughter at her bosom, nursing with small, delicate pulls that filled the air with quiet intimacy.

Merina’s voice, soft and filled with love, broke the peaceful silence. “What should we name her, my love?”

Pacificus, seated beside her, his hand gently caressing their daughter’s tiny head, looked down, his heart full but his mind overwhelmed. “I… I don’t know… she was born here, in the Ever Resting Forest.”

Merina giggled softly, her voice like a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves. “No need to think that hard, Pacy,” she teased, her eyes warm with affection. Then, after a brief pause, she whispered the name that had bloomed in her heart. “Cassandra. Let’s name her Cassandra.”

Pacificus smiled, a soft light flickering in his eyes as he repeated the name. “That’s a beautiful name.”

Merina’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, her gaze shifting to the tiny bundle resting against her chest. “Then that will be her name. Cassandra. Our daughter, Cassandra.”

The couple spent their days in the shelter of the divine tree, cocooned by its protective branches, hidden from the outside world. Pacificus cared for Merina with unwavering devotion, bringing her food, tending to her needs, and ensuring her recovery from childbirth. He became her pillar of strength, guiding her through the days of healing with tender care. He even fed the kirins, those ethereal beasts that had stood watch over them, their presence a symbol of protection and harmony in the sacred forest.

For two months, they remained there, isolated in their own world of love and nurturing, until the time came to visit Gaia once more.

The moment they stood before the Goddess of Life, her words sent a chill through their hearts. “This child is already flawed,” Gaia said, her voice calm but filled with a truth that struck the couple like a cold wind. “She is blind.”

Merina and Pacificus exchanged a glance, fear flickering in their eyes at the thought. Their baby, their perfect little Cassandra, was blind? The weight of Gaia's revelation hung in the air like a heavy fog. But before panic could take root, Gaia’s gentle assurance followed. “But do not worry… a flaw is a gift in its own right. And she, too, shall receive her gift from me, without a flaw.”

With a motherly tenderness, Gaia bent down, her vine-like arms cradling the baby as she pressed her glowing forehead to Cassandra’s. In a whisper only the divine could hear, she bestowed her blessing. “You shall see the past and the future, but the present will remain hidden from you.”

As Gaia finished bestowing her gift, the air around them seemed to darken, and a bone-chilling cold crept into the clearing. The vibrant life of the Ever Resting Forest grew still, as if all the world held its breath. A shadow, unseen but deeply felt, stretched across the space, making the couple’s skin prickle with an instinctual fear. The presence of death had arrived.

Thanatos, the Primordial God of Death, filled the clearing with his formless yet overwhelming essence. Though his figure could not be perceived, his presence pressed down on their hearts like an invisible weight. The air thickened with dread, and the sacred ground seemed to hum with his ancient power. Both Pacificus and Merina stiffened, their hands trembling as the primal terror washed over them.

His voice, when it came, was not a sound heard with ears, but a whisper that echoed within their minds. Low, deep, and cold, it seeped into the very marrow of their bones. He spoke directly to the child in Merina’s arms, his tone dark and inevitable, like the passage of time itself.

"Your words will hold power, but you will never be able to lie."

The couple stood paralyzed, their breaths shallow and uneven. Pacificus instinctively tightened his grip on Merina’s hand, while Merina clutched their daughter tighter against her chest. The weight of his words settled over them, heavy and unyielding. The newborn stirred slightly, unaware of the monumental fate placed upon her by these primordial forces.

Then, as suddenly as he had come, Thanatos withdrew. His suffocating presence ebbed away like the receding tide, leaving behind an eerie stillness in its wake. The oppressive cold vanished, replaced once more by the warmth of Gaia's sanctuary. But the couple could still feel the imprint of his visit, as if death itself had brushed against them for but a moment.

Gaia’s eyes, filled with an ageless wisdom, turned once again to Pacificus. Her expression remained soft but solemn, as though she, too, carried the gravity of the moment. The goddess exhaled a breath that stirred the leaves around them, bringing with it a sense of finality.

"With our gifts," Gaia intoned, her voice rising in a tone both majestic and motherly, “we now give this child a name.” The words rang through the forest like a decree from the heavens, the leaves above rustling as if the forest itself had heard and acknowledged the announcement. Gaia’s presence grew luminous, her vine-like arms cradling the energy of life and fate as she spoke with pride.

“Young one, you will be known as Ananke,” Gaia declared, her voice resonating with an authority that seemed to echo through the very roots of the earth. “Rise and live, Ananke. You will live as a mortal, and die as a mortal.”

The name seemed to pulse in the air, wrapping itself around the child like an invisible shroud. Pacificus and Merina exchanged a glance, still feeling the weight of the divine within the clearing. They knew their daughter had been touched by forces far beyond their understanding, her future now intertwined with powers of life, death, and destiny.

In the arms of her mother, Ananke remained quiet, still too young to comprehend the magnitude of her naming. Yet, in the stillness that followed Gaia's pronouncement, it seemed as though the earth itself had acknowledged the birth of something more than mortal—a child bound to both the fragile existence of human life and the immutable laws of fate.

"Azrael" as Gaia spoke his name, Pacificus felt a shiver run down his spine. The name, given by the goddess herself, now carried with it a weight of destiny he couldn’t shake. He turned to face her fully, his breath caught in his throat, eyes wide with desperate hope and fear.

“There are ingredients,” Gaia continued, her voice steady and filled with ancient wisdom, “that could save your beloved, should you wish to pursue them.”

Pacificus’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced at the possibility, clinging to every word as though they were his last hope. “How… how could I find these ingredients?” His voice trembled, betraying the fear he tried to contain.

Gaia’s eyes, filled with an understanding beyond mortal comprehension, rested on him. “There are several,” she began, each word slow and deliberate, “and you need only one to save her.”

“The core of a demonic primarch…” she said, and with those words, the air seemed to grow heavier, as if the very mention of such a thing disturbed the balance of the forest. Pacificus’s blood ran cold, and beside him, Merina’s body tensed. Demons—monstrous beings that haunted humanity’s darkest nightmares, creatures of chaos and destruction. And a primarch—the ruler of such demons—was a god among their kind, a being of unimaginable strength and malevolence. The thought of confronting such a creature was unimaginable.

Gaia’s voice didn’t waver as she continued. “The second is the heart of an Ancient Dragon.”

If the mention of a demonic primarch had been terrifying, this was worse. Pacificus’s knees weakened. A dragon was a living cataclysm, a force of pure destruction, a creature that could lay waste to entire civilizations. But an Ancient Dragon—one that had lived through eons—was a walking apocalypse. Facing one would be to challenge the very essence of devastation itself. His heart sank deeper into the abyss of fear.

But Gaia was not done. “The Flower of Rejuvenation can be found beyond the great ocean, where the ancestors of your grandmother once lived,” she explained. The idea of crossing an ocean, a journey that would take months or even years, to a distant and forgotten land, was daunting, yet not as frightening as the first two options.

“The Vines of Restoration grow in the Sand Ocean, where your mother was born.” Gaia’s words painted a picture of a place harsh and unforgiving. The Sand Ocean—a vast desert, endless and punishing, where survival was its own battle.

“And lastly,” Gaia’s voice softened slightly, “the Immortal Fruit, which can be found in the untamed lands.”

Each of these places, these ingredients, seemed more impossible than the last. Yet, they were his only chance, his only hope to save the woman he loved. He felt the weight of the moment bearing down on him, the vastness of the world and its dangers looming before him like an unscalable mountain.

Gaia’s gaze never wavered, her tone gentle but firm. “Tell me, Azrael, would you do it?”

Pacificus stared ahead, his mind swirling with the enormity of what lay before him. He thought of Merina, her laughter, her smile, the way she had always looked at him with love in her eyes. He thought of their daughter, still so new to the world, fragile and small. His heart twisted painfully in his chest. Could he leave them, knowing the dangers, knowing the time it would take to find even one of these ingredients?

“I will,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I’ll save her.”

The air grew still, and Gaia’s gaze softened further, as though she saw the storm of emotions within him. “Azrael,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, “the challenge is not just the distance. But the dangers that lie in between. It will take you years to find even one of these ingredients. You could spend those years with the ones you love—rather than pursuing a cure.”

Her words hung in the air, a gentle yet crushing reminder of the reality he faced. Pacificus stood frozen, his hands trembling slightly as he turned his gaze to Merina, who sat quietly beside him. Her eyes, filled with love and understanding, met his.

Could he leave her? Could he sacrifice years—years they would never get back—to pursue a cure? His mind reeled with the thought of missing their daughter’s first steps, her first words. Could he bear to be gone, knowing that time would move on without him?

Gaia’s voice broke the silence, her words gentle but unwavering. “Azrael. The decision is yours.”

Pacificus’s chest tightened, and he felt the full weight of his decision press down on him. Every heartbeat echoed in his ears as he stood on the precipice, torn between love and duty, between the impossible and the unbearable.

“Whatever your decision, Azrael,” Gaia’s voice softened, yet it carried the weight of an unbreakable promise. “You will need strength for the path ahead. Come to me, my child. Your blessing has been long overdue.”

Pacificus, feeling the gravity of her words, took slow, deliberate steps toward the goddess. As he drew closer, Gaia’s form, woven from the living essence of nature itself, expanded to embrace him. Her branches, leaves, and vines stretched out like welcoming arms, glowing softly like embers in the night, wrapping around him in a protective cocoon. Her warmth seeped into him, comforting yet powerful, filling him with a sense of belonging and ancient strength.

As the vines touched his back, he felt a sudden surge of energy coursing through him. The runes that had been etched onto his skin, silent for so long, now began to glow. The symbol of Gaia—intertwined with that of Thanatos—flared to life, the tree of life and death burning into his flesh with radiant power. It was not pain he felt but a deep connection to something much larger than himself, to the cycles of life, death, and rebirth that governed the universe.

“You have grown, Azrael,” Gaia whispered, her voice soothing yet immense. “Close your eyes and see the fruits of your own efforts.”

Obeying her command, Pacificus shut his eyes, letting the energy within him guide his vision inward. What he saw took his breath away. His soul, vast and uncharted, was laid bare before him—a bright universe filled with countless stars, each one representing a part of his essence, his strength, his potential. The stars twinkled in clusters, some brighter than others, some distant and faint, but all connected by invisible threads of power. And in the center, shining like a beacon, were the runes of Gaia and Thanatos, their symbols burning like twin suns in the cosmos of his soul.

Pacificus Azrael Tahimik (II - Awakened) Farmer / Monk

Blessing:

* Gift and Gaia and Thanatos: The blessed one will receive two gifts each one contains flaws.

* Champion of Gaia and Thanatos: The blessed one's talent was recognized by the primordial gods, receiving a new skill or spell from the Deities.

* Destined One: The blessed one acquired a skill that was recognized by the laws of existence. An increased in potential was given to the blessed one.

Farmer (Beginner) Monk

Agricultural Philosophy:

* FAST GROWTH (Common): Crops planted by Pacificus Azrael Tahimik are bound to grow faster than the norm allowing for more harvest.

* NUTRITIOUS COOK (Rare): Food cooked by Pacificus Azrael Tahimik are not only more delicious but also more nutritious than normal.

Martial Philosophy:

* Inertial Manipulation (Unique): Pacificus Azrael Tahimik is more sensitive towards motion. He can control and redirect movement provided it made contact with his weapon or his body.

Strength MMS/SSS+ Dexterity MM/SS+ Agility MM/SS+ Speed MM/SS+ Stamina MMS/SSS+ Vigor MMS/SSS+ Gifts Gift of Potential Skill: The gifted one has an immense increased gift in potential. Flaw: The gifted one has an immense decrease in the gift of experience. Gift of Fate Skill: The gifted one is beloved by the fates, hence the immense good luck. Flaw: The gifted one is hated by the fates, hence the immense bad luck. Parry/Inertia Manipulation (Unique) Skill: The gifted once can redirect any attack that comes towards him. Flaw: The gifted one cannot learn any new combat skills and can only use the skill once attacked. Main Skills: Farmer (Intermediate)

Terraforming (Beginner) Planting (Intermediate) Harvesting (Intermediate) Maintenance (Intermediate) Strong Back (Intermediate) Domestication (Intermediate) Green Thumb (Intermediate) Livestock (Intermediate) Fertilization (Intermediate) Cooking (Journeyman Master) Quick Growth (Common) Nutrition Boost (Rare) Monk

Shared Blessing Purification Clan Management Parry (Unique)

But as he gazed upon this vast inner universe, his heart tightened. There was no joy in his expression—only concern. The enormity of the power he held was daunting, and the responsibility that came with it weighed heavily upon him. His eyes lingered on the runes, the symbols of life and death, and he realized how fragile the balance was, how easily it could tip, and how much was now expected of him.

“How do you want to spend your potential, Azrael?” Gaia’s voice echoed in his mind, reverberating through the stars that made up his soul.

The question lingered, heavy with meaning. The potential he had—his strength, his power—could be used in so many ways, for so many purposes. But there was only one path he could see before him, one truth that burned brighter than all the stars combined.

Pacificus opened his eyes, his gaze steady, unwavering. “All of it,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, filled with resolve. “I need all of the strength I can to save them.”

The words hung in the air, a solemn vow. His chest rose and fell with the weight of his declaration. He knew that by choosing this path, by giving all of himself, he would become something more, something both magnificent and terrifying. Yet it was the only way—the only way to protect the ones he loved, the only way to face the unimaginable trials that awaited him.

Gaia’s embrace tightened slightly, her vines pulsing with a soft, rhythmic energy that mirrored his own heartbeat. “So be it, Azrael,” she murmured, her voice a quiet acceptance of the path he had chosen.