About a hundred days ago (In the divine realm).
The clouds of Arietta’s divine domain were unnaturally soft—like heated marshmallow fluffs soaked in lavender dreams.
They humd with faint divine essence, drifting lazily across the sky of the ever-shifting realm.
One particular cloud was ho to a quiet mont.
Raven lay with his head resting in Arietta’s lap, his hands folded over his stomach, his expression peaceful.
Her fingers gently combed through his hair, her nails occasionally tracing little circles into his scalp like she was drawing wards of affection.
"This... is criminally comfortable," Raven mumbled. "If this is what heaven feels like, I might not go back."
"You are in heaven," Arietta replied, voice soft—but a wicked glint danced in her golden eyes. "But don’t get too comfortable. I might chain you here forever."
He opened one eye and looked up at her. "Would you really?"
She leaned closer, lips brushing the edge of his ear. "Try ."
Raven’s ears twitched as her breath tickled, but he cleared his throat and looked off into the distance—at the storm of training chaos below them. Graye was, once again, turning the horizon into a fireworks display.
Nibbles was bullying gravity. Jake had disappeared into his own shadow.
Raven then turned back to Graye, rubbing his chin.
"She’s improving," Arietta said, her hand still caressing his head.
"Improving indeed," Raven nodded, his eyes squinting. "But she seed to be having trouble understanding techniques."
"That’s probably nature’s way of balancing her, or she might grow way too strong, way too quickly."
Arietta’s words made Raven hum again, as he could imagine Graye becoming a powerhouse unlike any other if she were wise enough to learn sword techniques.
For a while, there was silence between them.
"...So," Raven finally said, adjusting slightly on her lap, "what did you want to talk about? You said it was serious."
Arietta didn’t answer right away.
Her gaze, uncharacteristically focused, turned toward Graye. Again.
The purple-haired girl stood at the edge of a scorched crater, fla flickering along her blade as she practiced footwork.
"Everyone knows Graye has divinity," Arietta murmured.
Raven nodded slowly. "Yeah. She has had it since she was born, and she doesn’t even know what it is."
Arietta humd, her fingers pausing in his hair.
"It’s most likely inherited," she said. "Passed down. Like a bloodline that rembers its origin."
He nodded again. "That’s also sothing I know. Omni told about it."
Then, he looked into her eyes, a curious light flashing past his eyes. "But why are we talking about Graye? Did you take a liking to her?"
Arietta turned her gaze down to him, her brows frowning as if offended by the thought of taking a liking to Graye. "No. Never."
"Then why?" Raven raised a brow, and Arietta cupped his cheeks.
"What I was trying to say was, if she can have multiple tales, then why haven’t you ford one yet?"
That question made Raven pause.
His eyes narrowed, and the peace of the cloud faded just a little.
"Because Omni said I wasn’t strong enough," he said, voice quieter now. "He said... I wasn’t worth being noticed by the universe or sothing."
Arietta’s lips twitched into sothing between pity and amusent. "I see. But when was that? Did you have the Voidborn transformation back then? I won’t even ask about the destruction elent."
This made Raven frown as he rubbed his chin. "No. I didn’t have them."
She nodded, almost pleased. "Then Omni wasn’t lying. At that ti, you weren’t enough. The universe is prideful—it doesn’t notice ants."
"...Thanks," Raven muttered.
"But now?" Arietta leaned down, her cheek almost brushing his. "You’re no ant anymore. You have the Voidborn variant transformation. It is an ability that lets you tap into the power of one of the strongest dragons to exist."
Seeing shock, she smirked. "Don’t get too shocked yet. I haven’t even ntioned Destruction. That’s a power feared even among gods."
Her smile widened with pride as if she were talking about herself. "Now, my dear, you, although not strong enough to be noticed by the universe, possess things that have forced the universe to take notice of your existence."
Raven blinked slowly.
"So... Can I form a tale now?"
"Yes." Arietta nodded. "The only thing stopping you is the cost. Forming a tale is like writing your own divine story into the universe’s library. You have to pay the price in ink—and that ink is divinity."
Raven sat up, now fully interested. "How much divinity does that take?"
"That depends," she replied. "If you’re trying to create a universal-level tale—which you’re not ready for, let’s be honest—you’d need over a million divinity points."
Raven’s jaw slightly dropped. "...Yeah, no. Not happening."
Arietta giggled and pushed him back down into her lap, more gently this ti. "Relax. That’s not your level. Yet. But if you’re aiming for a world-level tale—a real one, with presence and divine weight—then it’s far more manageable."
He tilted his head. "How manageable are we talking?"
She held up two fingers and flicked them together, forming a small crystalline icon in the air—shaped like a dagger embedded in a scroll.
"The cost of a mid-grade divine artifact," she said. "Roughly four hundred thousand divinity."
Raven’s eyes sparkled. "Then... I can do it. I’ve been saving more than that in case of an ergency."
Arietta tilted her head. "This is an ergency. You’ve stalled long enough. You’ve beco sothing worthy of a tale. The world needs to know you."
He lay back again, his chest rising and falling as the implications rolled over him.
A tale.
His own.
He’d always thought of them as grand myths told by others—gods, monsters, kings. But now...
Now he could write one.
"...Damn," he whispered.
Arietta leaned down, nose nearly touching his. "Damn indeed."
Without even waiting, Raven sat up straight, his expression a mix of excitent and seriousness.
"Let’s do it," he said, making Arietta pout.
"You don’t want a lap pillow anymore?"
That question made Raven pause, his fists clenched as if he were about to make the hardest decision of his life, but he took a deep breath and looked away from Arietta’s plump thighs.
"...I can have it anyti I want."
Arietta giggled as she heard that, shaking her head. "Yes, yes. So, let’s form your first tale."
Raven nodded solemnly, still glancing at Arietta’s lap but stopping himself from jumping on it.
...............................
A while later, the air stilled.
While Rufus was screaming at an exploding Alex, Graye was punching boulders before her, and Nibbles was calmly juggling chunks of the shattered moon, Raven sat cross-legged in the cloud, a soft hum surrounding him.
Arietta hovered in front of him, arms folded, her gaze intense.
"Close your eyes," she whispered, and, for the first ti, her voice carried the weight of old gods. "To form a tale, you must recall your first true achievent. The one that carved your na into fate’s bark."
Raven raised a brow, eyes still closed. "...You make that sound unnecessarily poetic."
"Concentrate."
He exhaled slowly, letting his thoughts drift back—through years of struggle, of blood and blade, of laughter and chaos and companions gained.
What was his first achievent?
Beating Clara in a duel? Nah, that was later.
Surviving Nibbles’ first telekinetic temper tantrum? Close, but not it.
That ti he accidentally led a group of squirrels into a bakery raid?
...Technically strategic, but no.
"Focus," Arietta said again, this ti more sharply. "The mory has to resonate. You’ll feel it the mont you reach it."
It was then—
He saw it.
A massive chamber, glowing with pulsing lines of magic.
His just-born self was brought to the ancient Mana Baptism chamber. He’d felt fear, then pain. The crushing pressure of mana that tried to rip him apart.
Yet...
He’d endured.
Ten minutes.
A world record.
No one else had even co close.
His breath caught.
That mont—the exhaustion, the searing mana, the stubborn defiance in his bones—it all surged forward like a tide crashing through his veins.
"...I found it," he whispered.
Arietta’s golden eyes glead. "Good. Now pour your divinity into it."
Raven’s eyes flicked open.
"...How?"
A beat of silence.
Then, slowly, Arietta placed her hand on his chest.
"You’re like a child with a golden blade taped to his back," she murmured. "Powerful, but clueless. I’ll help guide it—don’t resist."
"Wait, what do you an by—"
A bolt of sothing ancient slamd through his body.
Raven’s back arched as divine energy—raw, molten, and white-hot—erupted from his core. He gritted his teeth, the pressure heavier than any transformation he’d ever felt.
To the others below, nothing changed.
Just Raven floating there, totally normal.
"Why’s he glowing like a sandwich?" Rufus asked, blinking through a telescope made from shadows.
"He’s not," Jake murmured.
"Oh. Well, he’s glowing to . Maybe I’m special."
"You’re not."
Back above, Raven hovered as radiant, golden veins pulsed beneath his skin, spreading from his heart outward like lightning branching through glass.
The mory of the mana baptism consud him.
The agony. The pride.
He had been a child—untested, unrecognized. But in that mont, he’d carved himself into history.
A fla burst from his chest—unseen to the world—but Arietta smiled, seeing the universe finally acknowledge him.
"There it is," she whispered. "The ink burns. Your tale begins."
Raven felt the weight leave his shoulders. No, not weight. It was sothing else—it was a sense of being acknowledged and standing in a hall with countless divine witnesses.
He felt a tale form in his head.
[Tale: The Boy who devoured the mana water.
Usage: No matter how many tis your mana runs out, divinity will help you restore it.]
His body gently floated back down, the golden glow fading into his skin.
"...It’s done," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
Arietta caught him with ease and pulled him onto her lap before he could even protest.
"You didn’t fall from exhaustion," she said smugly. "You fell because you missed this."
"...I really didn’t."
"Liar." She smirked, brushing his hair back. "You’ve done it, Raven. Your story has officially begun."
Raven blinked at the sky, a stunned laugh escaping his lips.
"...Damn."
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