“--I don’t know which desire was stronger: killing Promethius or protecting my unborn child from him.”

“You were… at the time…”

“Yes, I was pregnant but with the war drawing near, he had perhaps forgotten about it so he never inquired about the child. I didn’t know if I should’ve felt relieved or scared. I wanted to run from that castle but his order—to cook my own children for him—kept me there. I only had to endure that for a day… thank goodness…”

“What?”

“Demons stormed the castle in the middle of the night. It wasn’t far from the imperial border—closer to the border than it was to the Wood Elf country, so we were likely their first target. I woke up to the screams of my children. They were still locked up in the basement, in cages. They… didn’t survive the night. Even the elder ones… The demons were like ants—easy to kill, but there were too many of them. I couldn’t make it to the basement in time.”

Guinevere finally looked at Arnold. “You must think my desire to save them was meaningless…”

“…"

“They would’ve died regardless. But if I had known they had to choose between being ripped apart by demons or consumed by that abyss, I would’ve killed them myself—honorably.”

“Do you blame yourself?”

“…I blame the gods for making decisions for me. If the Valkyries had separated from the divine realm long ago and lived independently, like they do now, we wouldn’t have been forced to serve the gods. I wouldn’t have endured that period of my life. I’ll be honest—I want to kill them all. I’ve learned they aren’t just or kind. They have desires, and even a degree of selfishness.”

“Zephyros has the most authority in the divine realm. Don’t you think he’s the one who started all of this? A single word from him should compel the gods to follow, right?”

“Indeed… you’re right. And yet, Melis was the only one to defy her father… Why? Why did she hate Promethius so much?”

She whispered under her breath: “If only I had time to find that out…” before she continued.

“Promethius and I headed to the imperial border. Along the way we saw several portals that spat out hordes of demons. With how many there were, it was obvious that a demon lord entered the world alongside their army. There was no time to try and close the portals so we met up with the emperor who was personally overseeing the war with his imperial army. They received intel that there was some infighting between the demons which is why the army was so disorganized. Naturally, this made it easier to repel them at first without the need for Promethius to go onto the battlefield. The Theocracy and other nations joined the empire on the battlefield a day later. With how busy things were, it gave me the opportunity to slip away. I wanted to see if the Gardtree was growing well. What I found simply astonished me…” she looked back at the fake divine tree, “A giant that pierced the clouds, able to grow with even the faintest light falling on its leaves… Looking at such a magnificent spectacle, one would think it could replace Nárvhael if it ever died out.”

“Nárvhael… This is my first time hearing someone ever calling the World Tree by its true name. I guess you were right about people forgetting things after records of those things are destroyed.”

“You know quite a lot for a human… While the Gardtree was a sight to behold, I cannot imagine it becoming the pillar of all nine realms so I was merely overestimating it when I compared it to the divine tree of the Elves. They’re also polar opposites. One consumes anything and everything, the other provides, gives and nurtures all.”

If Nárvhael is the pillar of the Nine Realms then the Gardtree is its shadow.

“Didn’t it give you that blessing?”

“Lend is the right word… I still have to pay a price, after all since Goddess Melis could not maintain it after her father found out her plan… This is a good thing because I’ve kept it satiated throughout these long years.”

Arnold recalled the golden vines that gathered in that hole in her chest from before.

That price was definitely “life force”. But how had she survived this long despite being used as nutrients for that mysterious entity known as the Gardtree? Do demigods—unlike mortals—get their lifeforce back after a while? This was never really mentioned in the game but it could be possible.

“What if you didn’t come back and died somewhere from the blessing’s erosion? What would happen to the tree?”

A shadow appeared over her face, “…I’ve seen visions of an apocalypse, a version of Ragnarok that can actually be stopped by simply offering myself after I completed my goal and became Melis’ champion.”

An apocalypse…?

Suddenly, he recalled his vision of King Arnold who decimated an entire army alone. His gaze panned to the empire in that vision that was west from that battlefield.

The vision abruptly stopped before he could remember what he saw in the empire. As if on cue, the dread he felt from the Gardtree became stronger.

“Knowing this, it was the most logical thing to do. I would’ve felt partly responsible if I did not stop it. It was a fool to think this tree was a blessing during that time but I’ve come to accept that it’s natural for it to follow its instincts to consume… Now then, where was I…” she looked away from the tree and back at Arnold, “I had to find a way to lure that man to the tree so that it can take his blessing. The war was at its peak at that point so it was difficult to find a way to take him there. Fortunately, the Demon King came through a portal soon after I returned so the war was nearing its conclusion. Promethius finally entered the battlefield and fought her and her demon lords, alongside the Oracle and Archmage’s help. It became evident soon enough that he did not need that help.”

“Level 101…”

“?” Hearing his mumble, Guinevere tilted her head.

“It’s… nothing. He achieved his goal, right?”

The method was not Arnold’s concern right now. If anything, he didn’t want to think about it. Consuming your own flesh and blood for power? Immoral. Even dragons don’t do that when they want to steal powers from their own kin. they only consume souls which give them the abilities as well.

But Promethius was definitely not dragonborn like the Taeliths so that was impossible to do.

“Indeed… It was like he was a being above gods and even Pure Angels. Nothing could stop him, not even the Demon King whom even the gods fear. The hundreds of thousands of demons were dying like ants being stepped on. The human casualties stopped once he awakened that power and it looked like we were going to win. Arsnoria’s powerful magic was useless against the raw power of his Golden Aura. Seeing that much power in front of my eyes, it felt like my goal would be impossible to achieve. But I knew that if I wanted my unborn child to have a long life, I needed to succeed. I… I thought I needed to lure him away but his power… it broke him… The moment he was about to cut off Arsnoria’s head, he fell on his knees, all the power leaving his body in just a second and making him as a fragile as cheap glass.

There was no one else on that battlefield besides me, Promethius and Arsnoria. I was the only one who could still stand. Through his bloodied face, he glared at me and through his bleeding throat, he commanded: Kill Arsnoria. [Song and Light] appeared in my hand before I noticed. I remembered the fear in that woman’s eyes. She, who the gods fear, was trembling and pleading for her life. Even though humanity’s salvation was within reach if I listened, I hesitated. My target was not Arsnoria. It has never been the Demon King even though she’s a threat to the gods. I held [Song and Light] above Promethius’ neck. Never in my century of imprisonment under his rule had I ever seen him that pathetic. He was wetting himself, snot and tear streaming down his face. I thought to myself: was I truly scared of this man or his power? All my fear faded away when I listened to his insults and jeers, the barking of a helpless wolf caught in a trap in front of a bear. In that moment, I felt my unborn child’s power course through my body, which allowed me to use the holy sword to its fullest potential.

Was it my fear that acted like a sink plug, preventing that power from reaching me? If my fear vanished prior to that war, would I have felt my children’s power and surpassed that man? I don’t know…

Even though I wanted to kill him in that moment, I knew my goal, which is why I cut off all his limbs and cut out his tongue. Arnoria and I looked at each other when I was about to head towards the Gardtree to complete my goal. I am ashamed to say I did not kill her, the reason all of that was even happening. Before I could leave, she asked me a question, ‘Why are you doing this’. I responded that even gods can be wrong and pick the wrong person to save humanity.”

Arnold was supposed to condemn Guinevere for letting the Demon King live. If she killed Arsnoria then the main story, no, the entire DLC would’ve never happened. He wouldn’t have to go through the future arcs and suffering that waits for him.

But in this moment, he could care less about it.

“I continued: the gods will pay for their deeds and inaction eventually. Whether you succeed or fail in your intervention, their end is already set in motion by another grand plan to overthrow the gods.”

‘…Does she know about Ladiath?’

No, maybe she was referring to the Outer Gods in general since they’re the biggest threats to the gods at the moment. Well, with the barriers that Aedri had erected around the divine realm, that is a worry for the future. But what about this mysterious Progenitor he bad been hearing about lately? Will he or she also be a threat later on?

“Arsnoria said in response: As long as you are in Midorn (Realm of the Mortals), I will not attempt to invade this world again.”

“So, basically a truce…? She was really arrogant, huh. Thinking she could ask for something meant only for equals.”

“Well… I saw it as her way of expressing gratitude for not killing her which is why I let her go in the end. This is something I could never admit in front of Goddess Melis or Yorm. They will surely question my loyalty and devotion as a Valkyrie.”

“You know Yorm, the last Giant…?”

“…She was my sworn sister before I became High Valkyrie. After being crowned, we saw each other less and less before breaking contact since both of us had our duties… How do you know her…? Is she still alive?”

Arnold lifted his mangled-up hand, “This ring… She gave it to me. It’s how I teleported back to this world.”

“Ah… Ah… Yorm is…” Guinevere’s hands trembled as they hovered around Arnold’s hand but she didn’t dare touch him as if she was afraid she’d hurt him further, “I’m sorry, Yorm… I did not have the courage to face you after all this time… And I still don’t but… I would still like to see you one last time…”

Her hands dropped back down.

Arnold silently got up, albeit with some difficulty. He leaned against the tree. Looking down at Guinevere, he asked her:

“Can you take out the scrolls in my magic bag? My hands are kind of useless right now.”

“…” she stood up and did as he asked, “I can feel quite a few scrolls. Should I take out all of them?”

“Yeah.”

“...” She pulled out a bundle of scrolls and held it out to Arnold.

‘Huh?’

Among the white scrolls was one that was ash-black and was radiating a powerful miasma.

‘That’s Tanaera’s lifeforce-enchanted scroll that she gave me.’

Arnold looked into Guinevere’s eyes when he recalled what this scroll was for.

“Guinevere… If you could get back the life you had before you met Promethius, what would you do to get it?”

A small smile appeared on her lips as she stared across the wasteland but Arnold could tell those eyes were looking farther than just this ruined world. Perhaps she was remembering her past in that few seconds of silence.

“I do not know... It is difficult to answer when so many things have been out of my control until now.”

“Hmm…”

Arnold chanted the healing spells after hearing her reply. His hands could finally move again and most of his injuries were healed in an instant.

These scrolls sure are convenient, even more so than magic sheets that require actual magic control and a dedicated intelligence stat or a class like Magic Manipulator. He needs to find out how that crafty merchant makes these. It will sell like hotcakes, just like his teleportation gate idea.

“If the evil you vowed to slay offered you your life back,” he grasped the black scroll with a firm grip in one hand and the [Cardinal of Hecate] in the other, “Would you take the offer? Simply yes or no. Your answer to my first question can wait.”

“…” she looked blankly at the artifact that once belonged to a [Cardinal].

“I will not beat around the bush—” he held the artifact out to her, “There is a way to maintain your blessing until you find a way to permanently remove it without sacrificing your life.”

“That requires a god’s intervention, which I’m sure none will risk to maintain due to its current state…” the dejection was obvious in her voice.

“What if that god was standing right in front of you?”

“…?”

**

Name : Arnold von Berkley

Race: Martial God (temp), Half-Dragon, Half-Human

Class (es): Martial Artist, Knight

Level: 100

*The effects of the [Ascension Pill]’s internal energy is still circulating within your body, granting you invulnerability to sickness, infinite stamina, proficiency boost to all skills and weapons (applies only to Soul Weapons that are part of your body), improved Aether control, enhanced body refinement, etc…

**

“The martial spirit Gederick bestowed upon me allowed me to ascend to this form—this divine form.” Arnold’s gaze drifted to his right hand, feeling the raw power coursing through it. This hand held the strength to stand against a demigod, to fight on equal ground. Guinevere might still be stronger, but now he believed he could defeat Gederick in this form. Perhaps it was arrogance, perhaps ego. Was the strongest mortal truly enough to triumph over a god?

Guinevere’s power—and even his own—was borrowed, an artificial gift. One due to a blessing, the other a spirit. But Gederick? His strength was earned, true.

“With this power, I can ascend further,” he murmured, more to himself. “And with the stigmata of the Cardinal artifact, I can maintain a blessing… if it means wielding the right tool.” The lingering shame of relying on borrowed strength gnawed at him, yet his eyes stayed on Guinevere.

She stood there, silent, unmoving, her eyes wide and unblinking.

“The evil you tried to slay is standing right in front of you now,” Arnold continued, his voice smooth, almost mocking. “Because you let it live. And now, that same evil is offering you a second chance. Isn't that poetic? The legends they sang about you… now they'd probably write a romance about us. It'd sell like wildfire among your admirers, wouldn’t it?” His tone was casual, teasing, deliberately light to ease the tension.

Her mouth parted slightly, but no words came. Her expression shifted subtly, a mix of emotions flickering in her eyes, but Arnold couldn't read her thoughts.

“Well… you can think about that later. After you meet Yorm.”

“Y… Yorm…?” Her voice, faint and hesitant, finally broke the silence.

“You still want to see Yorm again, don’t you?”

He extended his hand toward her. “To rekindle that friendship, you’ll need to live a bit longer. That’s why I will become your god. And in this new life, you’ll find a way to repay me. Until then, you’ll have to keep that sword of yours away from my neck.”

For a moment, her eyes shimmered with emotion, tears welling up as they met his. Then, she nodded, slowly at first, then more fervently, before reaching out to take his hand.

That hand held considerable strength, a strength that belonged to a crumbling vessel.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

‘At least,’ Arnold thought as they began to fade from the scene, ‘I’ve gained something worthwhile after everything I’ve had to endure.’

Arthur’s face appeared in his mind, causing killing intent and anger to rise form the pits of his soul, which he quickly suppressed.

…

..

The feeling of teleportation washed off him in mere seconds after he teleported right back to Yorm’s house. Thankfully, her house was still there so there was nothing wrong with the artifact itself.

‘I wonder what caused the shift in location and how the portal was in that place…’ he recalled the moment he landed back on the 100th world, landing in an entirely new location.

A woman, with a body that most would envy, draped in a white dress, exposing her bare shoulders and ample cleavage, was tending to her flowers outside. Her hair danced as he turned her head at the sudden sound of visitors walking on her cobblestone walkway. She was in her human-sized form.

Arnold noticed a crate in the corner of his eye standing beside the front door and filled with milk bottles.

“…Arnold?” a familiar voice called out to Arnold, recognizing him even though he looked way different from before, “Who is—”

The moment Guinevere let go of him and Yorm was about to ask who it was, she went silent, her eyes shaking as she stared at Guinevere’s face.

“Yorm…” Guinevere averted her eyes and clenched her fists, “…It is good to see y—” Guinevere couldn’t finish her sentence since Yorm ran towards her and pulled her into a hug while shouting her name as if she had forgotten about it after all this time they’ve been separated.

…

“—Your meridians are damaged.” Yorm said to Arnold while her hands—covered in a green light—were moving around on his back. The two of them were sitting outside while Guinevere was inside the house. “Something powerful caused these wounds. What did you do?”

“Aether combustion…”

“Willingly…?” she looked at him incredulous, “That is something forced upon slaves in war. It is not something you should use when there’s no leash around your neck to force you to.”

“….”

Yorm sighed softly at his silence, “You will remain here for one day before continuing on your journey. I’ll make preparations tonight to heal you.”

“What? But I’m running out of—”

“I will not listen to any complaints. Will you return here only to be healed every time? Once was enough.” she pulled his ear as if he was a kid who broke a plate and she his mother scolding him.

“…I get it.”

Yorm beamed a bright smile.

Her gaze shifted towards the front door when it opened.

Guinevere came out of the house, covered only in a towel, with her blood-red hair tied up and slung over her shoulder. Steam rose from her wet skin so it was obvious she had just finished a bath. She was leaning against the front door. It seemed as if her injuries still needed to heal as well.

The blessing erosion seemed to have halted the moment they entered the divine realm. Of course, this isn’t a good thing since Guinevere would be locked to one realm if she rejects his offer to maintain the blessing further. There’s a chance some god might offer to maintain the blessing but he found this unlikely since doing that would mean aiding the one who killed the “gods’ champion”.

Guinevere is also someone who values mortal lives so there’s no doubt she’ll want to travel to see who she could help out there.

In any case, how Guinevere decides to handle the gods’ wrath once they find out she’s here is her business.

“I am ready… Arnold.” She spoke softly while avoiding Yorm’s piercing gaze.

“Guinevere.” Yorm called out to her, “I will not ask what happened between you two yet or what is going on with you OR why there’s a giant hole in your chest. But whatever you need to do, think about your future and what you want, not the people you vow to save.”

In short, do it for her own sake, not for others. “If I die, who will step up for even the evilest yet redeemable mortals” would be the worst mindset to have right now.

“…I have made up my mind but… I am not sure who I’m doing this for. You, my sworn sister? My child who is still out there? The mortals I may end up encountering on my journey who need saving? Or the divine realm? Or even Gede—No, I don’t know…”

Arnold walked past her and entered the house without looking at her. After telling her “It’s going to be okay now that you’re with me”, Yorm led Guinevere inside.

“Do you know what a stigma is?” Arnold asked as he pulled out a chair from the dining table and made it face him. He told Guinevere to sat down.

“A… mark of shame?” Guinevere silently sat down and said those words.

“Well, you’re half right.” He continued after telling her to loosen the towel.

Though hesitant, Guinevere did as he said. She placed her hands in her lap and left nothing hidden. Due to the blessing’s erosion, her left breast was still gone, leaving her disfigured. Embarrassment would be the least of her problems in this situation.

Arnold took out the necklace artifact—the Cardinal of Hecate—and then unfurled the black scroll.

“A stigma is a mark of something, a symbol of your desire for power or some other want. Would you give up your dignity for this mark as a race known for their pride?”

“Guinevere?” Yorm looked down at her since she was silent.

“…I need to know the price for this power. And… what that thing is exactly.” Guinevere finally spoke.

“This is an artifact created by the Cardinal Gods.” he held it out to Yorm and Guinevere, “In exchange for great power or fortune, it will poison your soul and body with what’s known as a stigma.”

“The creation of the outcast gods…” Yorm whispered.

Arnold looked at Yorm in mild surprise, “You aren’t going to take this from me and destroy it? I thought Cardinal artifacts are treated as taboo in this realm.”

“I have come to learn my own people kept many things from us. They might have even lied about many things as well. I had to hear out of Guinevere’s mother’s mouth that she was assaulted by that man.” Yorm put her hand on Guinevere’s shoulder, “I once thought my sworn sister would be able to live a dream-like life as the prophesized consort of the champion. I am ashamed to admit I forgot her face for these past few centuries but somewhere in my heart, I prayed for her to be safe… but she was anything but. I am through getting angry on behalf of people I once drank and ate with in the Elysian Spire who turned out to be selfish and greedy gods.”

‘So, it’s true that she was banned from the Elysian Spire after being ordered to guard this realm gate for the rest of her life.’

Someone as good-hearted as Yorm would’ve tried to fight Promethius if she saw what happened that day he was introduced to the gods officially. She would’ve ruined their plans to make Promethius a loyal dog. How many gods were truly rotten and how many of them were just too scared to react to what happened right in front of them?

“What do you mean by greedy…?”

That was something he didn’t expect to hear out of a god’s mouth.

“Why do you think they invest in a champion once one is born? It’s control. Always has been. Control the nine realms by using a savior. Unite everyone under one belief.”

“I had a feeling that was the reason since none of them stood up to him. They allowed him to act like a spoilt brat with too much power. In the end, he used them and they used him right back, now 80% of my world’s population worship Melis—”

“—granting the gods even more strength through prayers.” Guinevere finished his sentence.

A god without worshippers is no true god. Without prayers, without belief, the title becomes hollow. Believers offer more than just devotion—they provide power. Through faith, gods gain the ability to shape lives, bending fate to their will. Yet, only the Goddess of Fate wields influence over all beings, regardless of followers. The rest must rely on the belief of mortals to sustain their power. In exchange for granting blessings and good fortune, gods are nourished by divinity itself. This delicate balance is why, in times of crisis, people turn to the heavens, hoping their prayers will tip the scales in their favor.

“Do you see them as allies, Yorm?” Arnold unfurled the scroll and placed the artifact on top of it.

“What I think of them does not matter if I cannot do anything to fix things in the divine realm.”

Arnold narrowed his eyes, “You mean… get rid of the bad apples?”

He was obvious hinting at Zephyros as well.

“I hope I never have that kind of desire. Please proceed with whatever you need to do. I’ll be in the room over there making my preparations for your treatment. Go there once you’re done.”

“Alright.”

Yorm closed the door behind her after she entered the room. The heavy atmosphere disappeared with her.

‘It seems Ladiath has a lot of cleaning up to do.’ He had that fleeting thought.

“Since you already know what this is, do you still want to live a new life?”

She nodded.

“The price for a stigma varies depending on what your desire is. In this situation, it’s granting me divinity to maintain the connection so penalties that often come with desiring power won’t apply here. The price won’t be too severe.”

While he was definitely a god in this assimilated state with the martial spirit, he still lacked divine power which is required to maintain blessings. The artifact will not just give him that but also keep the blessing intact using him as the vessel.

Taking all this into account, it might sound easy, right? He thought so too. He was using exploits from the game even without knowing the associated risks.

Well, whatever risks there were will probably be eliminated by the stigma that was be created after this.

Just when he was about to bring up the stigma itself, Guinevere spoke.

“I shall bear the stigma. It’s a mark of sorts, yes?”

“…That’s right. But why…?”

“This mark will put a burden on whoever bears it, no? I am relying on the one I tried to kill to save my life. The fight was also instigated by me because I was so overcome with my duties that I could not think rationally. Perhaps I was arrogant, thinking there was no conceivable way for me to be pushed to… this state…” her finger traced along the hole in her chest.

“You weren’t fighting at full power, were you?”

“….”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. You would’ve probably not have been able to kill me and still would’ve been in this state.”

The blessing is “borrowed power” so there was a possibility that erosion would’ve occurred regardless.

“Really…? I did not know that… Then perhaps this is for the best…” she said that last bit with a bitter smile as she looked down.

Regardless of what led up to this, Arnold couldn’t argue with her saying that her current state was her own fault. If the two just went on their own paths, then none of this would’ve happened. Arnold is partly to blame for this as well since he relied so much on Oriel’s power that it poisoned his soul and began breaking down his original body.

But he kept that to himself.

“I understand.” That was all he said before he looked down at the artifact that was laying on top of the scroll. The scroll was radiating Tanaera’s raw mana and lifeforce combined.

While holding his hand above it, he said the godorin chant to awaken the artifact:

“Ryl’thar karethas vun’tok, shidar thri vek’lan. Val’gorat aska neth’ril, kalar nox ve’tar, surthak ner viath da’nor.”

The jewel on the necklace glowed green and veins of similar color pulsated along the chain. The black cloud of power that came out of the scroll was sucked into the necklace, turning the once black scroll back to its original color. A low hum followed soon after and a blinding light came from the big jewel on the necklace.

Arnold could feel a mysterious power coming from that jewel when he picked it up. Withot further ado, he held it out to Guinevere, “Put your hand on top of mine. The artifact will listen to what we desire in our hearts so it’s not necessary to say anything.”

“Yes.” Guinevere put her hand on top of his.

“As you have volunteered to bear the stigma, it will be my role as a god to always keep the necklace on my person so that the seal may stay strong, thereby maintaining the blessing. If your desire to live vanishes that so will this stigma. If I abandon the artifact or use it to create a new stigma then the same will happen. I am the vessel and you the bearer of the mark. I maintain the blessing; you receive its power—a mutual bond between blesser and blessed.”

“Hn!” the mysterious power within the jewel curled around Guinevere’s body. Within an instant, it formed a strange symbol around her neck that could be mistaken for a slave mark if one didn’t notice the runes that make up the mark. Almost immediately after the mark was complete, Guinevere’s body started changing—through the hole in her chest, Arnold could see a grotesque display of organs, muscle tissue, veins and bones regenerating. Once that was through, her skin began wrapping around that exposed muscle tissue in layers and her breasts regained their fullness and shape.

A blinding light engulfed her and through it, Arnold could confirm with the status that the “Blessing Erosion” had been stopped completely.

Without warning, the pressure in the house grew to a point where even Arnold was beginning to fall under it.

Guinevere’s body pulsed with raw, untamable energy. It flowed from her like a roaring tide, gentle enough not to destroy their surroundings, but vicious enough to obliterate any who stood in its path.

As the light faded, Arnold stood before a woman transformed. She was no longer the broken soul she had been moments before. Towering above him in gleaming golden Valkyrie armor, her wings stretched out, majestic and powerful, glinting in the light. A familiar, battle-worn helmet sat upon her head—the same shattered helm she had worn during their first encounter, now reforged and whole once more.

The power radiating from not just that armor but her body was almost endless.

If she used this power earlier… Well, the fight is over so there’s no use mulling over that now.

Guinevere took off her helmet, her beautiful red hair falling onto her wide shoulders and on her back. She opened her eyes, revealing two golden pupils radiating with divinity itself.

Guinevere’s armor clanked as she knelt before him, her wings folding behind her in reverence. She slammed her fist over her chest, the sound echoing like thunder. “I vow upon my soul and my pride as a Valkyrie,” she declared, her voice fierce and resolute, “that I will find a way to repay this kindness, even though we stood as enemies mere moments ago.”

Her eyes, once dim and devoid of hope, now burned with passion and determination. She gazed up at him, not as the Hero’s Consort, nor as a victim of circumstance, but as the strongest Valkyrie in existence.

◊◊

· System Updated!

· Interface updated! New rewards and challenges unlocked.

· You have conquered a [Heroine]

◊◊

[The Mountains of Wails]

It was a vast and imposing region, not merely the home of nightmarish monsters but also the final resting place of ancient civilizations. Their crumbling ruins, remnants of a forgotten era, lay untouched for millennia. The stories of treasure and secrets buried deep within those ruins tempted the bravest of adventurers. Yet, none dared to tread on that cursed ground, for the mountains were more than just a graveyard of history—they were the lair of monsters, so fearsome that few lived to tell the tale. The only way to reclaim what was lost would be to rid the land of these abominations, a feat that seemed impossible for even the strongest warriors.

Rumors whispered of a mysterious tribe that resided in the heart of this wild region, a people who had never made contact with the outside world. According to travelers and hunters who wandered too close to the mountain's edge, strange phenomena occurred in the dead of night: loud, rhythmic chanting echoed through the air, and dazzling lights illuminated the distant horizon. The voices were so powerful that they carried all the way to the nearest port towns, baffling and unnerving the local villagers. Some speculated that these sounds and lights were the work of the tribe itself, conducting ancient, forbidden rituals under the stars. Others, more superstitious, claimed that these eerie displays were the doing of creatures—beings with intelligence far greater than man—that sought to lure the unsuspecting into the forest’s deadly embrace.

"~~"

A young man confidently walked down a forest path, whistling an out-of-place merry tune for such a dangerous place. His steps were light, his demeanor unbothered, as though he were strolling through a peaceful meadow rather than one of the most perilous regions known to humankind. Behind him, the trail was littered with the corpses of slain beasts. He paused for a moment, glancing back at the carnage he left in his wake—titanic monsters, their charred remains still smoldering from the magic that had felled them. These were no mere goblins or orcs; these were beasts as large as wild dragons, monsters whose very presence spelled doom for any ordinary adventurer. And yet, this man had cut them down with ease.

They were SS-class creatures—terrifyingly powerful beings that even SS-rank parties would hesitate to face without extensive preparation. Each one capable of destroying entire villages, yet a single magician had dispatched them effortlessly. His power was undeniable, and the scorch marks on the ground were evidence of the overwhelming magic he wielded.

His robes fluttered slightly in the breeze, a testament to their fine craftsmanship. The fabric shimmered in the dim forest light, intricately woven with enchantments that pulsed faintly. These weren’t robes one could purchase at a regular magic store, nor were they the type a noble could simply commission. No, the robes the young magician wore were undoubtedly artifacts of immense value. Whether they had been plundered from a royal treasury or retrieved from the ruins of some lost civilization, their worth was incalculable, and their origins—perhaps as mysterious as the young man himself.

“Oh?” the young man came to a stop when his detection magic caught a lot of signatures nearby. He was pretty deep in this vast forest so sensing these many presences wouldn’t be a surprise but these particular signatures were human.

‘Could I have found that tribe I’ve heard about in rumors—’ just when he was about to finish that thought, his detection magic picked up hundreds of high-leveled signatures, with two of them being level cap.

“Hahahahaha! I’m coming for you!” ignoring any precautions, he burst into the sky and shot out towards the location he found those powerful signatures.

Will they be friendly or not? He didn’t care. He came to this forest to test out his strength—which means he will attack anything that’s powerful.

‘Hm? A hole in the mountain?’ in the distance, he could see scaffolding right next to the mountain that had a hole in it. It looked as if something was being built there are the hole was made.

Who in their right minds would think to build something right in the middle of this dangerous monster zone-infested forest?

“!” a spear suddenly shot from below towards him, which he hurriedly caught with an invisible magic hand. Looking down, he spotted one of the level cap signatures staring menacingly at him.

With a smirk, he slowly descended.

‘Oh? A demihuman werewolf. His whole body looks humanoid but he has fur everywhere.’

The moment he landed on the ground—

“I am Zhorath!” the towering werewolf said, his golden fangs and armor shining in the afternoon sun, “Reveal your intentions for coming here or you shall regret brazenly releasing your killing intent in our territory!”

“Status.”

Ignoring him, Lufulur called the status, “Huh? Guild affiliated subordinate?”

The werewolf warrior growled over being ignored.

“That must mean there’s a player here… Kekeke. Hey, dog, your master is a player, right?”

“…”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Oh well, you and I have nothing to discuss so I’ll just be on my—” before he could finish his sentence, an ominous shadow engulfed him in just a second—no, it blocked out the sun so its shadow was falling over him.

Fast!

Zhorath appeared in front of him in an instant, swinging his hand with the intent to kill.

“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself yet,” a barrier appeared in front of the young man, stopping Zhorath’s attack completely, “But someone who’s about to die doesn’t need to know that, right?”

In an instant, a purple flame appeared in his hand. It might’ve looked small but Zhorath’s instincts told him that this was something he couldn’t take head-on.

“Get out of my face, dog.” He casually swung his hand; the surrounding area was then bathed in purple light, “I’ll play with you for a little bit, kuku.”

**

Deep within the artificial dungeon constructed mainly for storing guild treasures, was a throne room. It did not lose out to the emperor’s throne room in radiance and splendor. Instead of floors made of gold, it consisted of a marble pattern that reflected everything in this room like a mirror. The ceiling above depicted fanart and even official illustrations from the game that Brynhildr Selia Bloodforth had personally bought off the Star Shop when the game was still online.

Now they can only be used to decorate the walls since they mean nothing in the new world.

Selia was sitting on her throne, her eyes staring blankly at the system windows that floated around her. One tab showed her [Friend List], none of whom were online.

Selia wasn’t in her original body, but the same transformation she used back at the auction at the Berthlaith House. Her white hair rested atop her shoulders and between her large breasts that were barely being contained in her tight midnight black dress.

The tapping of shoes suddenly resonated through the throne room, making her look up.

Selia, who wanted to do nothing but relax, had used a spell to dull her senses. Being a vampire made her sensitive to a lot of things, and that included sensing killing intent from monsters far away from her location. This interfered with her work and relaxation many times so she chose to use a simple spell that even academy students use to calm their senses, either for relaxing or studying.

While the spell was active, Selia wouldn’t be able to sense danger. She was certain nothing could hurt Berdark’s little brother, Zhorath since he was one of her strongest fighters.

She was wrong about that.

A young man draped in a white robe and a mask stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to her throne.

“…Did you kill anyone?” Selia asked calmly.

“What do you think?” the unknown assailant responded.

Selia narrowed her eyes when she noticed that her killing intent wasn’t doing anything. This man was definitely not low-leveled.

“I see all my subordinates as my extended family. Whatever little mercy I would’ve given you is all but lost no—”

“Holy shit, what’s with that body of yours!?” interrupting her, the young man approached her and looked down at her body while she was still seated, “Huh, a vampire? How is blood enough to sustain these huge tits?”

“…You are quite brazen for coming here, killing my monsters and guards, then waltzing into my throne room. Now you are blatantly igno—"

Cutting her off again, he continued.

“How about you become my slave then I won’t have to hurt you, hag. It would be a shame to not have some fun with this body.” The young man was standing near Selia, rubbing his crotch obscenely, as if he didn’t fear her at all. He was right within striking distance. Selia could rip out his spine, crush his ribs with a punch, tear his head off his body and rip off his face in just a second…

“Well, if I’m going to become your master, I might as well tell you my name, right?” with an exaggerated bow, he introduced himself, “I am the most powerful magic caster in all the nine realms, the only magician to have ever received a Unique class—the Supreme Sorcerer Lufulur!”

Selia’s mouth hung open when she heard that name. She slowly got up, towering over the young man. His eyes didn’t leave her breasts at all and gulped as her breasts’ shadow loomed over his face.

Without warning, Selia struck him, intending to take off his head. However, she struck air and the man teleported some meters away.

With a cold voice, Selia commanded:

“Come to me, Svalaheim.” The shadow under her heels began moving and spat out a dark cloud that turned into a black sword. Selia grabbed the sword and pointed it forward.

In a low voice, Selia spoke to the assailant who called himself “Lufulur”:

“How dare you…” blood-red aura surrounded Selia and bloody veins appeared around her eyes, “—steal the name of such a great man?”

[Volume end]