Beneath the night sky of the Imperial Capital, dark clouds had gathered at so point, pressing down oppressively from above.
Here and there, arcs of searing lightning flickered within the gloomy clouds.
“It finally worked.”
“The Holy Relic passed down from our family’s ancestor actually responded to our prayers again.”
Inside a dilapidated house, a few people looked elated.
All of them wore gray-white robes, the collars of which were inscribed with a twisted serpent insignia.
Unlike the other heretical cults, who brimd with confidence and swore to overturn the capital and spread their Evil God’s will across the entire continent,
these people hadn’t held out much hope for their Lord’s descent from the start.
After all, as far back as the Third Era, long before the founding of the Sacred Calendar, they had already lost the ability to hear their God’s voice.
No matter how fervently they prayed to the Relic left behind, even the strongest and most devout Pontiff among them could not receive any response.
A cult whose deity could not perform miracles, could not respond to its followers, naturally could not survive for long.
And so, over ti, the once-glorious angelic bloodline of the rcury’s Blood Family, who had even held sway over several human empires during the height of the Third Era, gradually withered away.
In the end, only this tiny branch remained.
As ti passed, the Third Era ca to an end, and the Fourth began.
This remnant was so weak and obscure that even the Church of Dawn had assud the rcury’s Blood Family was extinct and didn’t even bother to list them as a heretical cult.
Their appearance in the capital today wasn’t even due to being part of so major sche like the other cults.
They’d rely caught wind of a plot thanks to so old contacts from their family’s past—rumors that various cults were planning sothing in the capital.
So they ca, holding a desperate hope: maybe a dead horse could still be treated as if it were alive.
Because of how ancient everything was, this tiny branch of the angel bloodline had even forgotten the correct procedure for their rituals.
So, they muddled through based on vague mories and guesses.
First they tried copying the Church of Dawn—drawing crosses, sprinkling holy water—then they mimicked heretical sacrificial rites.
Unfortunately, they couldn’t afford a proper human sacrifice, or even cows or sheep for that matter, due to financial difficulties.
In the end, they had to settle for slitting a few chickens and ducks to substitute as offerings.
And yet—sohow, despite the fumbling ss—they actually received a response.
In a single instant—
A thousand bolts of lightning descended from the black clouds above.
Then, over the rooftop of that decrepit house, a silver-white plasma converged into a hazy silhouette.
It was a creature, serpentine and pure white.
“I can’t believe it… The Lord written of in the ancient family records has truly descended again.”
Upon seeing the ethereal, rcury-like serpent in the sky, the few people below were moved to tears.
Generations of persistence.
Their lineage had wavered many tis throughout the centuries.
They had considered abandoning their faith.
Maybe it was ti to switch allegiances—to find a new patron, be it another cult or one of the Seven Gods of Dawn.
They had wondered whether their Lord had already perished, perhaps lost forever in the depths of the Starrealm, or had been devoured in so forgotten Divine War, their divine authority usurped and made into soone else’s garnt.
But now, it was clear.
It all ant sothing.
Their Lord had not abandoned them—it had rely been a trial, one that spanned over a thousand years.
Now, He had finally answered their call again.
Their days of destitution—so poor they couldn’t even afford livestock for sacrifice—were over.
This was a True God walking the earth once more.
And as the loyal devotees who remained even in the lowest depths of their decline, they were sure to receive their Lord’s most rciful reward.
The glorious rise of the rcury’s Blood angelic bloodline would surely begin again.
Amid the feverish fantasies and hope, no one noticed—
A black-haired, dark-eyed youth, dressed in a black-and-red cloud robe, had sohow slipped silently into their group at an unknown point in ti.
“So this is the last one, huh?”
“Compared to the others, this one seems kinda… underwhelming.”
On Xia Ya’s shoulder, the Little Snow Ferret, Silver, yawned lazily. The blood-red tomoe and silver moonlight faded from her eyes.
At her current Legendary Species level, casting Illusion Arts to lower Xia Ya’s presence among a bunch of below-Fourth-Ring Transcendents was total overkill—like using a cannon to kill a chicken.
Xia Ya stared at the little silver serpent above them, its eyes closed, its transparent body flowing with rcury blood.
There was a thoughtful glint in his gaze.
After ten years in Eden, he was no longer the naive Second-Ring Beastmaster unfamiliar with the Transcendent World.
With tutoring from Sylvia, and ten years spent poring over nearly every ancient to that Yui had copied from the White Tower and the Imperial Grand Library, Xia Ya’s understanding of Occultism now surpassed that of most Legendary-tier powerhouses across the Western Continent.
And yet—he still couldn’t identify exactly what this thing was.
Sweeping the area with his Spiritual Perception, he detected a faint trace of Divinity.
That was why, once he’d finished dealing with the other cults, he’d co here.
But he could tell clearly—
This little rcurial serpent was very different from the Evil God Incarnations he had faced before.
It lacked that typical chaotic, brutal divine aura. In fact, it was... peaceful.
And more importantly—
It didn’t feel like a Descent forged from divine power and belief.
It felt... real. Tangible.
This wasn’t just a vessel for a God.
It was a mythical creature—a true entity walking the Material Plane in the flesh.
Since the start of the Fourth Era, this was the first true form of a Mythical Creature to descend into the world.
Even during the chaotic days of the Era of Cataclysm, those creatures only sent down Half-Bodies or Faith Incarnations—never their true selves.
And as if sensing Xia Ya’s astonishnt—
The illusory little rcurial Serpent slowly opened its eyes under Xia Ya’s gaze.
They were a pair of pale brown serpent pupils, within which flickered a cold, transcendent divine will.
"So this... is the place where fate has drawn to be reborn."
A high, distant divine ripple echoed in the void, laced with a language ancient as the primordial world.
It was a hybrid dialect—sowhere between Old Abyssal and High Elven—a tongue far too archaic for the remnants of the Angel-blooded Family gathered below to understand.
But thanks to Yui’s skill “Spark Source”, which Xia Ya had trained during his idle years in Eden, the skill had long since evolved beyond Transcendence, becoming a Super Tier Skill—essentially a superintelligent AI.
Coupled with the massive database of ancient languages and research stored within it, the mont the archaic language was spoken, Yui translated it near-instantly and passed it to Xia Ya via their soul contract.
"To think... the angel-blooded family I once established has fallen to such a state."
"Then again, I haven’t responded to any prayers in over a thousand years. The fact they even still exist is a miracle in itself."
The little silver serpent, whose blood shimred like rcury, slowly swept its serpent eyes across the room, gazing at the fanatical believers of the angel-blooded family.
In its pupils, the color of rcury gently flowed, gradually forming the shape of an Ouroboros.
Then—light motes began drifting up from the bodies of those believers, gathering into a silver-white wheel of ti, within which hazy visions began to spin and shift.
They were their wheels of fate, inscribed with the entire trajectories of their lives.
The rcurial Serpent read all of it—each thread of their mortal destiny reflected in its gaze.
"I see now... Ash, Twilight, the Oathbreakers, the Faceless—all these heretical gods descending here... it’s all to topple this so-called empire of Freista?"
"Such a density of divine descents… it can only an one thing—the Fourth Era is drawing to a close. The end tis are near."
"My rebirth at such a mont, and the opportunity to rise anew amid the chaos… yes, it is in line with fate indeed."
The being murmured lofty words, quickly deducing the current era’s background from the fates of those before it.
"But... if so many Abyssal Gods have descended, why hasn’t even a single sign of chaos erupted in the mortal world?"
Its pale-yellow pupils looked off toward the distant Imperial Capital, where the night lay quiet and peaceful—too quiet.
For a being as ancient as itself, even among the True Gods, it well understood the temperants of Abyssal Deities.
Twisted and mad from prolonged exposure to the Abyssal Will, they rarely descended without causing widespread devastation.
Back in the chaotic days of the Third Era, a single divine descent could raze an entire city.
Yet now, with multiple gods descending simultaneously… how could the mortal world remain so eerily calm?
But then—its gaze paused.
And fell upon an inconspicuous black-haired youth hiding quietly in the far corner of the room.
The mont its divine authority attempted to observe this youth’s Wheel of Fate, it encountered resistance.
A Holy Relic?
Even in its reborn state, it still retained the Authority of Fate Observation.
Typical relics wouldn’t be able to block it—not unless they were sacred artifacts from the First Era.
Its interest was piqued.
If it could obtain such a relic from this youth and devour the Mystery within, it could accelerate its own resurrection trendously.
Its pale yellow serpent eyes narrowed.
The flow of rcury quickened, and it fully released its Fate Observation Authority.
From around the black-haired youth, faint motes of light began to erge—yet no image ford.
Tch—
Looks like this relic’s power is even more formidable than I imagined.
It might not just be from the First Era, but even older… perhaps dating back to a ti before intelligent life existed—when the world itself was first born.
If such a Mystery could be devoured whole, it might even allow to bypass the entire process of slow recovery, and imdiately reclaim my place atop the divine throne at my peak...
Such thoughts stirred a burning desire in the rcurial Serpent’s eyes.
A distant rumble echoed from the depths of the Spirit Realm, and the motes of light from the youth began to glow more intensely.
Eventually, they condensed into a dim silvery-white wheel.
Unlike the other angel-blooded remnants, whose wheels of fate had ford easily and spun freely under its gaze—
This youth’s wheel was faint. So faint that, even with all its divine power, the serpent could only catch a blurry glimpse of the edge.
And the further back in ti one tried to look, the harder fate beca to read.
Even straining to the limit, it could only move this youth’s wheel by a fraction.
A shift this minor, on a human tiscale, equated to re dozens of minutes—not even an hour.
Who is he...?
The rcurial Serpent finally sensed sothing was wrong.
But then—what it saw within that tiny sliver of fate left it completely frozen.
It was a glimpse of the black-haired youth’s past, marked only by the events of half an hour ago.
On that illusory Wheel of Fate, what reflected was a still and silent night sky.
Nestled in the rift between the Astral Realm and the Material Plane, it was not fully of the stars, nor entirely of the world—a realm sotis called the World’s Outside.
To avoid dragging the mortal world into their collateral damage, many powerhouses above Legend rank chose to battle in this place.
And now, within that World's Outside, several spectral mythical beings stood quietly—so twisted, so terrifying, others calm yet oppressive.
There was a vague human silhouette bound to a bronze cross, a dusk-lit demon wolf, and a figure whose form constantly shifted, defying clear perception.
The rcurial Serpent’s pale yellow eyes narrowed.
It recognized them—Twilight, the Oathbreaker, the Faceless One...
They were the very Abyssal gods ntioned in the Wheels of Fate it had previously read from the angel-blooded remnants.
So then, they really had descended already.
And judging by the degree of their descent, while not full incarnations, they were at least peak-Legendary—if not bordering on Demi-God-level avatars.
Especially that wolf—Twilight. It had clearly been stripped of so divine authority and essence before, and now this descent seed like a last-ditch gamble.
It was a god-flesh body, born by pouring massive faith into a Legend-tier cult leader as a one-ti vessel. Its essence had already reached the Demi-God threshold.
However—
Hovering in the starry sky across from them all… stood only one person.
Black hair, black eyes, dressed in a black robe, a crimson staff in hand.
The mont the rcurial Serpent laid eyes on that crimson staff, ancient mories stirred in its mind—echoes from several eras ago.
The Black Tower.
The staff-wielding spellcasters.
Witches.
Not pleasant mories, to say the least.
Could this black-haired youth be one of them? A mage from the Black Tower?
It shifted its divine sense back to the illusory vision from the fate wheel.
“Honestly, if I wanted efficiency, a nuke would’ve been the easiest way to wipe you all out.”
Up in the sky, the black-haired youth shook his head ever so slightly.
“But Yin just evolved, and Chìhóng's been clamoring for real combat.”
“They’ve both been sealed up for ten years—it’s only right to indulge them a little. Y’know what they say: skip torturing your ferret during the day, and it’ll torture you all night.”
“And hey—great chance to test their new combo skill, too.”
As he spoke, his hand rested lightly on that crimson staff.
A spellcaster, drawing from the staff to cast a forbidden spell?
But even if it were a forbidden spell, could one truly affect multiple Demi-God-level avatars?
Such a thought had barely ford—
And then the rcurial Serpent’s pupils froze.
Because in the next instant—
That so-called staff shattered.
Revealing the gleam of a blade beneath—shining like white silver, yet shrouded in black flas.
“Let’s call this combo from Yin and Chìhóng...”
“Ryūjin Jakka.”
The black-haired youth glanced down at the long blade in his hand and gave a lighthearted laugh.
And then—
He swung.
“All things in creation—reduced to ashes.”
——
BOOM——
The silver fate wheel shattered.
The illusionary vision faded.
Even with the full release of the Authority of Fate, it had only glimpsed a single, incomplete sliver of that youth’s history—just under one hour of fate.
But even that was enough.
The final image burned into that vision was the sky itself turning to black flas—
And those godly avatars, turned to ash, annihilated by that single slash.
In that instant—
It understood.
Why the Abyssal Gods had launched such grandiose descent rituals in hopes of overturning the Imperial Capital—
Yet the city remained completely untouched.
Why even its Fate Observation could only peer into a tiny fragnt of the youth’s destiny.
It wasn’t because the youth had so miraculous relic shielding him.
It was because this kid…
was a complete and utter monster.
And as fate would have it—
It had just resurrected, powerless and defenseless—
Right under that monster’s nose.
Fate, you f*ing betrayed !**
“Huh, an Authority to read others’ fates? Damn, that’s serious—one of those divination or prophecy types, huh.”
“And you don’t seem as batsh*t as the others I chopped up earlier. Y’know, the type who screams ‘die’ the mont they see . You actually seem kinda sane.”
“Wanna… have a little heart-to-heart?”
A friendly voice rang in the serpent’s ears.
The black-haired youth had sohow silently appeared behind it.
And was now reaching out—
Gently patting its head.
Despite being a mythical creature, with no tabolism and no sweat glands to speak of—
Despite being a cold-blooded serpent whose body should never produce such things—
The rcurial Serpent felt a distinct bead of cold sweat sliding down its brow.
“Guh… just kill already.”
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