Deep within the inner realm, attached to fragnts of ancient history, inside the divine throne domain.
Above the murky, turbid sky, lightning flashed and thunder roared. Thick bolts of lightning struck down one after another from the void above, converging upon a single direction. In the sea of script built from countless symbols, massive twisted entities erged from the waves, swinging thick tentacles over a hundred ters long. From the throne amid the tides, the piercing cries of the infant continued to shriek, accompanied by a cascade of scarlet chains.
Attacks of various forms rained down from every corner of this chaotic space—and their common target was a brilliant golden radiance, shining like the sun itself, casting endless light over the darkened world.
The golden flas incinerated the tentacles rising from the sea.
The golden lightning collided with the murky thunderbolts from above. When the power of fate-driven “inevitable deviation” t lightning empowered with absolute accuracy and dual divine authority, the force of deviation weakened—one golden bolt could now intercept multiple murky thunderstrikes.
As for the crimson chains, when they neared their target, they were t by swiftly dancing gold-and-red chains of light. These chains, imbued with the powerful legal principles of the Third Epoch’s Empire and the Fourth Epoch’s Church, tangled with the enemy’s Fatebinding Chains and shredded them apart. Though both were “Fatebinding Chains,” the golden-red ones clearly embodied far greater divine law—despite being fewer in number.
At the center of that radiant, solar-like light stood a girl with flowing golden hair, divine eyes, and sacred sigils etched across her bare skin. She simultaneously wielded the powers of Lantern and Revelation, resisting the attacks of the wicked godling with eternal fla, golden lightning, and golden-red chains. Her radiance pierced the gloom, her flas burned both sea and sky, and her gaze remained cold and unyielding.
Having revealed the Radiance Scion form, Dorothy now possessed the qualifications to battle the godling head-on. Gazing silently at the crying infant seated atop the divine throne, she raised her divine bow, aid it at the monuntal throne in the distance, pulled back the string—and released.
The arrow of light beca a blazing streak, flying toward the throne at blinding speed. As it flew, it split repeatedly—one into two, two into four, four into eight… In a re instant, a rain of radiant arrows engulfed the space, as if to pierce every inch of the throne’s massive pedestal.
But as the arrows neared the throne, a strange phenonon occurred. The arrows of inevitable radiance suddenly deviated from their paths. One by one, they veered off-course—not striking the throne, but instead falling into the surrounding sea.
Dorothy’s expression did not waver. With a single wave of her hand, a torrent of golden flas surged forth. These flas ignited the sea, burning from every direction around the throne—converging like a closing sphere, leaving no gap for deviation.
And yet… the unexpected happened again.
As the golden flas neared the throne, they abruptly dimd, then extinguished entirely—vanishing into nothing. Centered on the throne, a perfect circular radius remained untouched, while fire consud everything beyond.
Seeing her sacred flas vanish on their own, Dorothy’s eyes narrowed. She changed tactics. Her divine bow lted and transford, reshaping into a luxurious and refined sword hilt. From within the hilt, a golden blade of light extended—several hundred, nearly a thousand ters long.
Wielding this blade of light, Dorothy beca a radiant streak, rushing toward the throne at high speed. As she neared, she swung her massive sword in a cleaving strike, intent on splitting the throne in two.
But once again—“unexpected” happened.
The light blade flickered wildly near the throne, and then—like a dying bulb—sputtered out. At the sa ti, the radiant glow enveloping Dorothy’s body began to flicker erratically, brightening and dimming in rapid succession, teetering on the edge of extinguishnt.
Dorothy instantly felt the extre instability of her divinity. She halted her charge and swiftly retreated. In response, the godling launched more thunderbolts, chains, and monsters toward her. But Dorothy imdiately summoned the naless stone bell, shielding herself as she defended and withdrew.
Eventually, once she had retreated to a safe distance and her divinity stabilized, the brilliance returned to her form. She dismissed the bell and stood still.
Three failed assaults.
Dorothy furrowed her brow and muttered solemnly.
“A barrier of fate… a no-go zone forged by manipulated probability. This is troubleso…”
Wielding both Lantern and Revelation divinities, and possessing divine cognition, Dorothy could clearly identify the cause: it was fate manipulation. The probabilities themselves were being altered.
Seated upon the Throne of Fate, even if the godling couldn’t use its full power, its inherent fate-based abilities had been massively amplified. It could, from the center of the throne, exert intense influence over all events in proximity—altering their probabilities at will.
In this world, anything is possible. No matter how infinitesimal the odds, no probability is ever truly zero. And in the eyes of one seated upon the Throne of Fate, absolute certainty does not exist. Even arrows that “never miss” contain micro-fractions of deviation beyond the decimal point—and within the throne’s domain, the godling could magnify those minute odds to near-certainty.
The eternal golden flas were the sa. Just as every living being has a minuscule chance of sudden death, every “eternal” fla carries an infinitesimal chance of self-extinction. The godling amplified that chance until the fla died out.
When Dorothy charged forward for close combat, the godling even disrupted the stability of her internal divinity, drastically increasing the odds of “divine failure,” forcing her to abandon the assault.
In short, the closer Dorothy approached the Throne of Fate, the more severely her probabilities were distorted. The godling’s control over probability diminished with distance—but up close, Dorothy could do nothing.
And likewise, because the godling still could not fully command the throne, it was also unable to harm Dorothy from afar.
This was the godling’s fate-forged defense: a shield of infinite probability manipulation. Dorothy could see it clearly—an enormous domain, centered on the throne, where all outcos existed in chaotic flux. Even her divine cognition couldn’t accurately predict it.
The godling’s Revelation divinity wasn’t much greater than Dorothy’s. In terms of power, it wasn’t stronger than the King of the Underworld encased in Cursed Black Skeleton armor. But because of the Throne of Fate, it remained maddeningly difficult to deal with.
“It seems… this will take ti…”
With a low murmur, Dorothy began preparing her next offensive. She now understood—this battle would not end quickly.
As Dorothy’s attacks lessened, the godling—seated upon the divine throne—sensed it had stabilized the situation. Its shrill cries began to soften. Now, it too needed ti…
Ti for a disaster of greed to fester and unfold…
…
Outside the divine throne domain, the core domain of the shattered world.
To stop the completion of the world-devouring ritual, Artcheli and the others launched a final assault on the central tower of True Universe headquarters. In response, the godling played its most dangerous piece left in this realm.
Atop the towering spire, the once-soaring pillar of light symbolizing ritual progress had ceased. The Dark Coin Noble, cloaked head to toe in a dim black-gold sheen, now stood like a statue sculpted from dark gold at the tower's edge. That sa dark-gold texture was now spreading from his feet across the entire tower.
As if tipping a vat of golden lacquer, the dark-gold gloss poured down from the top of the tower, quickly enveloping the structure and flowing out in every direction. Everything it touched was "gilded", transford into dim golden tal—the entire world was being turned into blackened gold.
Seeing the rapidly encroaching tide of dark-gold from the ground, Artcheli—who had been darting through shadows at high speed—imdiately disengaged, leaping skyward with her real body and shadow clones. She looked down as the golden tide surged beneath her feet and toward the city behind.
“Secrets Cardinal… what’s happening? Everything’s turning to gold! Is this alchemy?!”
Vania’s voice rang out anxiously from Artcheli’s shadow.
Artcheli’s expression was grave.
“This is… divinity?”
“Be careful, Cardinal! It’s the influence of Dark Gold divinity! The power of that blackened gold has been massively amplified!”
Aldrich’s voice ca through the information network. His golems had now rged into a flying craft soaring through the sky.
“This is… Dark Gold divinity...”
Seated atop a soaring ice dragon, Setut—riding through Nephthys—watched the spreading tallic tide and warned Hafdar up ahead.
“This level of release doesn’t co from its own divine vessel—it’s out of control. Can’t you see the godling’s madness, Hafdar?!”
“You’re the blind one! If this is the Divine ntor’s decision, then there must be reason behind it, Setut!”
Hafdar shot back sternly from atop his red dragon, though he too felt unease.
“To think it’s resorted to this dangerous power… things must not be going well on the god’s side either.”
The blackened gold tide continued to spread rapidly outward from the central tower, engulfing the entire city cluster. From horizon to horizon, everything on the surface was cloaked in a uniform dark tallic hue.
Then, atop the tower, the body of the Dark Coin Noble began to soften and lt—in an instant, he collapsed into a liquid rcury-like fluid, flowing into the top of the tower… and vanishing.
Next, the entire tower itself began to liquefy, just like the Dark Coin Noble. It sagged, lted, and collapsed—its structure dissolving into the dark gold sea. The phenonon spread further outward, radiating in waves. Within monts, the once-solid dark-gold earth beca like a tallic swamp, skyscrapers collapsing and dissolving into shimring ooze.
As every building lted, the entire city vanished, replaced by a vast, uniform tallic ocean, eerily still, untouched by even the wind.
But then… the tal ocean began to change. Ripples spread across the flat surface. Strange energies pulsed through it. The disturbance grew stronger, and within a radius of several dozen kiloters, the tallic sea began to twist and deform.
The sea molded itself, reshaping… until it beca a massive pattern on the ground—a face.
A face!
A grotesque, warped human face, stretched across a perfectly circular area several dozen kiloters wide. It was round and bloated, with a massive grin stretching almost to the ears. Its squinted eyes lacked pupils, and the entire expression was a monstrous, exaggerated smile—like a greedy miser beholding an endless treasure hoard.
“What… is that?”
“A face… a smiling face… that big… and that creepy…”
Staring down at the surreal grin far below, horror appeared on the faces of Artcheli and the others. Nephthys swallowed hard. And then—the giant face moved.
Its grotesque smile writhed. Then ca a deep, buzzing sound, like the rumble of an earthquake.
“Mine…”
“All of it… is mine…”
The voice was low and thunderous, so loud the people in the sky clutched their ears in pain. And as the sound echoed, the face began to morph again. From its edge, countless dark-gold tendrils—like arms—began writhing into existence, reaching skyward at frightening speed.
It was like a forest of dark-gold limbs sprouting from the earth.
“Tch… so many!”
Artcheli scowled. She had seen similar tal arms when fighting the Umbrum Gargoyle, but nothing close to this scale. These things covered the entire sky—possibly numbering in the hundreds of millions.
“Break!”
Gritting her teeth, Artcheli swung her blade, releasing a massive wave of shadow slashes to cut down the arms. On the other side, Aldrich launched a barrage of powerful alchemical bombs from his aerial ship.
But all attacks—whether slash or bomb—twisted in midair, transforming into tiny boxes before falling harmlessly into the golden sea. The tal arms remained completely unaffected.
“It’s the power of Dark Gold divinity! Be careful, Cardinal!”
“Annoying garbage…”
Vania warned from the shadows, while Artcheli's frown deepened. She prepared a stronger counterattack—but then, things got worse.
“Mine… mine…”
“Everything… belongs to …”
With another earth-shaking pulse, Artcheli suddenly felt a splitting headache. Her planned strike halted mid-motion. No matter what she did, she couldn't launch an attack downward.
“Ugh… what is this…”
“Cardinal! Your hands—!”
“My hands?”
Prompted by Vania, Artcheli looked down—and saw, to her shock, a pair of manacles had appeared around her wrists, connected by a long chain.
“Manacles? When—?”
“Ah! I have them too!”
“How… When did these—?!”
As Artcheli reeled in disbelief, both Vania and Aldrich exclaid—they too had been shackled in the sa way, unable to attack the giant face below!
Eyes wide, Artcheli inspected the cuffs—on the back of her hand, she saw a mystic triangle sigil bearing the symbol of Stone, and inside it, a string of numbers—numbers that kept increasing.
The digits started as single numbers—123… then rapidly flickered upward—into the hundreds… approaching the thousands. Artcheli didn’t understand the aning, but an overwhelming sense of dread gripped her.
“Damn it! Stay away from !”
Finally, the dark-gold arms reached her altitude. Artcheli tried to flee—but her body refused to move. She couldn't even lift a finger to escape. She could only watch helplessly as the tal arms grabbed her—and transford into even more manacles, shackling her all over her body.
This sa phenonon occurred elsewhere as well—Vania, Aldrich, and Nephthys (who was being possessed by Setut) all found themselves bound by similar shackles, each with a growing string of digits glowing on the backs of their hands.
“Ah! What are these chains? Can’t we just freeze them?!”
“Impossible… I can’t resist them… this is the power of… a god…”
“Hah… so you see it now? This is—hm? Wait, no! Divine ntor, please restrain this thing!”
Hafdar had started gloating at the sight of Setut and Nephthys being bound. But in the very next mont, he discovered many of those sa shackles forming on his own body. He too was being dragged downward, powerless to resist.
“What… what the hell is this…”
In the midst of their helpless struggles, Artcheli and the others suddenly heard a whisper—a low, fine-threaded voice brushing against their ears…
“Debt… must be repaid…”
“Beco mine… forever…”
The Dark Coin Noble, after drawing far too much Dark Gold divinity into his body, had mutated into what could only be described as a “Divine Aberration”—a manifestation of runaway divinity.
Now transford into a Dark-Gold Divine Aberration, the Dark Coin Noble wielded even greater godlike power. Not only could he force transactions—compelling others to “buy” what he offered—but he also possessed the terrifying ability of “value definition”. He could arbitrarily assign value to objects or phenona, making them absurdly cheap—or impossibly expensive.
The divine effect currently spreading through the scene could be simply summarized like this: the Dark Gold Aberration had set the air and similar aningless things at an astronomical price, and then forced Artcheli and the others in the sky to “buy” them. Upon receiving such impossibly overpriced items, the group was instantly saddled with unpayable debt—no matter their wealth or power.
To pay off that debt, their ownership rights—their very beings—now belonged to the Dark Gold Aberration.
In the face of a creditor, these debt slaves—Artcheli and the others—had no ability to resist. Their every action could now be dictated by the Dark Gold Aberration. The numbers glowing on their wrists were not aningless: they represented how many years of full-capacity labor it would take them to repay their debts.
Even soone as powerful as Cardinal Artcheli, in just one mont, had accrued debt worth more than a century of effort. The others fared even worse.
For the godling, allowing the Dark Coin Noble to mutate into this state was imnsely risky. The godling could no longer fully control such godlike power. The Divine Aberration was already teetering on the edge of complete loss of control. The godling could only barely maintain a general direction of its aggression—and couldn’t even guarantee it wouldn’t attack its allies.
Had the situation not deteriorated so severely, the godling would never have made this move. Now, having stabilized the affairs of the shattered world, it was about to introduce this aberration into the divine throne domain to let it fight Dorothy. Though the god’s control was fraying, it hoped to at least direct the Aberration’s aggression toward Dorothy. But even that limited control couldn’t last long.
“Not good…”
Bound by the Dark Gold divinity, Artcheli and the others had no ans to resist. Just as the godling was preparing to pull the Divine Aberration into the divine throne domain, at the mont their despair reached its peak—an unexpected change suddenly struck.
CRACK!
A sharp, crystal-like sound echoed as the entire world trembled. In that tremor, the sky—once dominated by the giant violet eye—fractured like shattered glass. A massive rift opened at the top of the heavens, spreading outward in all directions.
All eyes turned upward.
“What’s that…”
“That feeling… no, it can’t be—but then again…”
Still shackled by countless dark-gold chains, Aldrich seed to sense sothing. His eyes widened in disbelief—then locked on the rift, where a blazing radiance had begun to erge.
In the next instant—BOOM!—the sky exploded, and the interior of the shattered world was violently breached by an enormous rift. Through it, sothing fell like a teor: a massive ball of fire, streaking down from the heavens and slamming into the dark-gold earth.
CRASH!!
The teor struck directly at the twisted, grotesque smile of the massive face in the dark-gold sea, smashing into its nose. The shockwave carved a crater several kiloters wide, horribly warping the giant visage—as if soone had punched a massive dent into the middle of a human face, shoving its features to the sides.
And in the heart of that crater now rested a gigantic tallic sphere, bronze in hue, its surface etched with dense but orderly patterns. It was clearly the true body of the teor.
“A tal sphere? What is that?”
Nephthys asked, startled.
Aldrich’s voice ca quietly over the network, filled with disbelief.
“That’s… an Ashen Furnaceworker… a component of the Eternal chanism… a servant of the Furnace Sovereign…”
“Ashen Furnaceworker…? You an…”
“An apostle of the God of Forge?”
Just as the words left Aldrich’s mouth—and the others reeled in shock—a deep, furious buzzing rang out. The dark-gold sea around the crater boiled violently, and countless arms surged toward the bronze sphere.
But then—the sphere cracked open, releasing torrents of white-hot steam. The scalding vapor instantly lted all the grasping limbs.
The cracks widened. Soon, the sphere fully split open, revealing a complex interior of gears and chanisms. In monts, the sphere reconfigured—transforming into a colossal brass automaton, nearly a hundred ters tall. Its body was armored and bristling with pistons, gears whirling, steam hissing from every joint. It wielded a massive hamr, and from its mouth spewed raging fire.
Swinging its hamr and blazing with steam and fla, the steel giant began smashing the twisted tal earth, preventing the grotesque face from regenerating. Its angry buzz echoed again and again—until thick dark-gold shackles ford midair and wrapped around it, binding its limbs and stopping all movent.
Just like Artcheli and the others, the giant was now shackled. Its flas and steam stopped. Its once-glowing brass body turned dull and motionless.
“No! That iron giant got bound too!”
Nephthys cried out in alarm.
“Damn it… even the apostle of the God of Craftsman can’t overco this thing?”
Artcheli gritted her teeth.
But Aldrich remained calm.
“The servants of the Master of Forging… are not like other divine envoys. They never co alone…”
As Aldrich murmured, more booming sounds echoed through the sky. The already-cracked heavens fractured further—then shattered again. Through these growing fissures, steel teors began to rain down, piercing the world’s boundaries and plumting earthward.
In a storm of fiery impact, each teor smashed into the dark-gold earth, carving deep craters. The land the Aberration had tried to consolidate was torn to pieces—the twisted grin unable to reform.
Each impact left behind a giant tal sphere, which split open, spewing steam and fire, and transford into a steel colossus—each one attacking the corrupted ground.
The teors kept falling. More and more iron giants entered the world, launching an all-out assault against the Dark Gold Divine Aberration.
The Aberration’s shrill buzzing only grew louder. It rapidly began enslaving the giants already landed—turning those it had bought into soldiers to kill the new arrivals.
One… two… three… ten… twenty… thirty…
No matter how many arrived, the Aberration claid them all.
“Mine… mine… all of it is mine…”
Artcheli herself began attacking the newly-arrived giants, her enslaved body driven to strike her would-be allies. As her will grew hazy, she scread internally.
“It’s no use… no matter how many co… they’ll all be enslaved…”
“No… not all. Look again—beyond this world, Cardinal…”
Aldrich’s calm voice rang out.
Taking the opportunity during a midair backflip, Artcheli glanced skyward—and froze.
Above them, the cracked sky had been torn apart by so many teors that vast portions of the world beyond were now visible.
And there… in the world beyond, the layer they had co from before entering this shattered world—the inner realm, filled with drifting pages of fractured history—was now putting on a spectacle unlike any before.
There, in the misty lavender space, countless steel teors hovered in formation. Neatly aligned like bamboo mats, they ford endless squares, each arrayed in perfect order, layer upon layer, stretching far beyond sight.
Steel teors—numberless—queued up, pressing forward through the growing rift, widening the breach into the shattered world. Between them drifted even larger steel cubes, kiloters long, in all shapes: triangles, cylinders, cones, and more.
“S-So many…”
Artcheli was stunned. The number of teors defied her imagination. The only comparable sight she’d ever seen was the insect swarms that once ford stellar rings in another shattered world.
Facing this endless flood of iron teors, the twisted face of greed began to reform—screaming louder than ever.
“Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!!”
Its shrieking buzz surged outward, carrying divine power beyond the world’s edge. The waiting steel teors outside were imdiately affected—purchased at a pittance, forcibly enslaved. Their colors turned from bright gold to dim tarnish… becoming possessions of the Dark Gold Divine Aberration.
After being corrupted into a Divine Aberration, the steel teors it enslaved began to mutate and attack their own allies—and before long, those retaliating allies were themselves purchased and corrupted by the Dark Gold Divine Aberration.
One hundred… two hundred… three hundred… a thousand… two thousand… three thousand…
As more and more steel giants fell under its dominion, a titanic war erupted within the scroll realm. Blazing flas stretched across the sky, and the once-uniform formation of steel teors collapsed into chaos.
Ten thousand… one hundred thousand…
As the Dark Gold divinity continued to spread, more steel giants were bought off for a pittance and forced to defect. Their bright yellow shine dulled, replaced by blackened reflections. In a short ti, nearly all the teors outside the godling’s shattered world had fallen into the Aberration’s grasp. Only from the far distance did new teors continue to arrive.
“Mine! Mine!”
The Aberration’s power continued to spread, buying even the newly arrived reinforcents, extending its reach toward the very source of those reinforcents, attempting to purchase the origin itself…
But—no matter how many it bought, the reinforcents kept coming, and faster than ever.
As the support rate increased, the Aberration’s buyout rate began to stall, reaching a deadlock. For the Aberration, it could buy 100,000 steel teors per second, but the reinforcents were arriving at exponentially growing speeds: 1,000 per second… 10,000… 100,000… millions...
Once the reinforcent rate exceeded the purchase rate, the Aberration’s control faltered. It could no longer keep up. As teors it hadn’t yet bought arrived in droves, the front line began to push back—and the reverse tide accelerated.
In desperation, the Aberration converted its entire army of over a hundred million steel teors, throwing them into the collapsing front. But this only briefly delayed the pushback. When reinforcents reached 5 million per second, the Aberration’s front completely collapsed.
Its enslaved army of steel giants was instantly annihilated, crushed beneath a torrent of explosions and radiant power. For every 100,000 the Aberration purchased, hundreds of millions arrived to crush them.
And now, the true source of the reinforcents began to appear.
From within the pale purple fog, a colossal shadow erged. As the source of the shadow drew closer, the shadow itself expanded.
Hundreds of ters… kiloters… hundreds of kiloters… thousands of kiloters…
The expansion was rapid. Exaggerated. In monts, the shadow had grown so vast it exceeded the field of view entirely, majestic and subli.
Its growth ant sothing of unimaginable size was approaching fast. Looking out from the shattered world, the object was still distant—but its shape was visible: a perfect sphere.
Then ca the buzzing—far greater than that of the Dark Gold Divine Aberration—resonating throughout the scroll realm. As the monstrous shadow approached, the fog could no longer conceal its form.
Without the mist, its true shape was revealed—
A planet.
Yes—a planet. A chanical world forged entirely from steel, far larger than any moon, its mass comparable to a terrestrial planet.
Drifting through the endless purple fog like a star in space, the floating scrolls around it were so small they weren’t even blades of grass in comparison.
On its vast surface, cloud layers churned, molten iron rivers surged like mighty flows, runes etched into steel ford intricate arcane symbols, and mountain-sized gears turned across its surface. A raised equatorial ring encircled the planet like a chanical belt.
At the center of the ring—on the planet’s forward-facing side—was a massive crater, sunken deep into the surface. Nestled within the crater burned a gargantuan golden energy core, glowing like an eye on the equator. The energy orb was its pupil.
This chanical world was the origin of the steel teor reinforcents. From countless openings across its surface, steel teors were endlessly forged and launched toward the front lines. Millions erged every second—far beyond what the Dark Gold Divine Aberration could handle.
And even this—was not the limit of the Steel Planet.
“Mine! Mine! All mine!”
On the broken earth below, the Aberration’s face of greed continued to shriek at the rapidly approaching shadow beyond the sky. It tried to extend its power not only over the teors but over the planet itself.
But the result?
Its power was far too weak to encompass such a massive world.
The Aberration tried to saddle the Steel Planet with debt, attempting to force it to destroy itself as repaynt—but even when the Aberration gave its all, the total "debt ti" for the planet never exceeded five seconds. Any minor damage it caused to itself was instantly repaired.
This… was industrial might.
The Steel Planet’s infinite production capacity was so vast that the Aberration could not buy products fast enough. No matter how high the Aberration set its debt, the Steel Planet could repay everything in an instant.
Inside its heart, the planet continually manufactured billions upon billions of valuable items. To buy the planet, the Aberration would also have to purchase every future product it could ever make—an infinite sum.
Even if it set the lowest price imaginable, multiplied by infinity… it was still infinity.
The Aberration… could not pay infinity.
In the face of this encroaching planet of steel, the Aberration raged with all its divine might. But without direct divine combat, it was powerless. The planet's industrial productivity alone defeated it utterly.
That infinite output—was one of the manifestations of the Steel Planet’s own divinity.
“It’s here… it’s here…”
Gazing up at the approaching shadow beyond the shattered sky, listening to the Aberration’s insane screams, and feeling the pressure rising from the earth, Aldrich murmured in awe.
“Lord of Steel … Master of the Forge…
“The Infinite Furnace… Sovereign of Constructs…
“The Core of Order…”
…
“Waaah!!!”
Within the dim and murky space of the divine thrones, the battle for the Throne of Revelation still raged on. Yet amidst that chaos, atop the Throne of Fate, the once-settling cries of the godling suddenly exploded again into a piercing wail, shrieking through the entire realm.
“Ah... what now? Why are you crying so pathetically again?”
Dorothy couldn’t help but smirk at the sound, a trace of mockery showing on her face. She naturally understood exactly why the godling was howling in such anguish.
She whispered softly toward the crying godling—because she knew: the plan to unleash the Dark Coin Noble to assist the godling had already failed. The being that was now drawing near had already suppressed the frenzied Dark Gold. Even with his Dark Gold divinity fully unleashed, even in complete madness and rampage at the very limit of Divine Aberration, the Dark Coin Noble still stood no chance against that approaching entity.
And Dorothy—had already foreseen this arrival.
As she murmured, she took out a draft from her magic box and began to examine it closely. It was a blueprint of intricate chanical design, composed of countless cylinders and linkages.
This… was a design for an internal combustion engine, sothing Dorothy had devised long ago as a money-making invention. But at the ti, her system had warned her that completing it might attract divine attention—so she abandoned the idea.
Back then, she had assud the industrial god simply didn’t allow technology that was too advanced. But later on, she began to doubt that theory—because she had repeatedly encountered technologies far beyond the current era, even bordering on science fiction, and those inventors had not been targeted by any god.
This contradiction had gnawed at Dorothy for a long ti—but it wasn’t until she entered this shattered world that it reached a boiling point.
Not long ago, Dorothy had traveled with Aldrich in one of this world’s automobiles. During that trip, they discussed the topic of cars. Aldrich casually ntioned that similar designs were commonplace in the Craftsn’s Guild. This piqued Dorothy’s curiosity—after all, hadn’t she been told that inventing an internal combustion engine would summon divine scrutiny? Had every inventor in the guild been “noticed” by that god?
Dorothy questioned Aldrich further, asking whether such inventions brought any severe consequences—and Aldrich firmly denied it. This contradicted everything Dorothy had been told.
Apparently, others could invent internal combustion engines without issue. But for her, it was different. Why would her attempt trigger divine attention? Could the system have malfunctioned?
Given the system’s track record, Dorothy didn’t suspect it. Instead, she began to suspect herself—that perhaps the problem wasn’t the invention… but her.
In pondering that, Dorothy recalled a certain individual—soone who had told her exactly which god would take interest in such a machine. That person had even shared the god’s lesser-known title, and it was their information that had misled Dorothy into forming the idea that this god carefully monitored the developnt of revolutionary technology.
But in truth…
The god didn’t care how others invented it.
The world’s technological bottleneck wasn’t because of divine will—it was because of cognitive poison.
Only Dorothy’s invention would draw divine attention—because that god had secretly taken interest in her, and when she tried to complete the blueprint, it triggered a chanism to deliberately draw down divine scrutiny…
Why? Dorothy had once guessed the reason while talking to Aldrich, but that thought had been erased remotely by Shepsuna. Now that she was within the divine throne domain, that mory had returned.
“All this trouble, just to set a summon signal? That bastard…”
Gazing at the blueprint in her hand, Dorothy couldn't help but think to herself. The long-forgotten draft inside her magic box had been silently completed. The missing portions had been fully filled in—done by her corpse marionettes working inside the box from the mont she entered this domain.
And just as the system had warned, once the blueprint was finished, a certain chanism was triggered—she had successfully drawn the attention of a mighty divine being, and its power.
The blueprint had seemingly marked a direction, opened a passage…
And even more importantly, Dorothy now understood so of this god’s secrets.
“Ugh, all that sniveling—so noisy. As a new god, don’t you think it’s a good idea to et soone more senior? Want to take you out and let you kneel before the Iron Auntie next door? You might even get a red envelope~”
Smiling, Dorothy spoke casually to the wailing godling—who could no longer manage a smile at all.
For the godling now understood all too well—that the being drawing closer in the scroll realm, the one steadily approaching the shattered world, was sothing it could not face. If that being arrived—
It would all be over.
Not even the smallest margin of maneuvering would remain.
A powerful enemy it couldn’t deal with was closing in. The godling’s situation had beco dire. Now it knew: the world-devouring ritual was a bust, the plan to seize Dorothy’s divinity had failed, and even its backup contingencies had been exhausted.
There was no chance of victory now.
It had to flee.
The escape phase had co. The godling had to grab the Throne of Fate and run before that entity arrived! Go into hiding again, wait for another opportunity—it had already devised its contingency plan for escape. But it had to act fast. Any delay, and it would be too late.
The godling would flee.
That was its only option.
But for Dorothy, there was no ti left to play cat-and-mouse. She needed to end things here and now. She absolutely could not let the godling escape—because if it did, and went into hiding again, who knew when it would resurface or how long she’d have to chase it again?
The entanglent between Dorothy and the godling had reached its final chapter.
The chase and escape to co would be their last showdown.
Everything would be decided in the next wave—
And it wouldn’t take long.
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