Chapter 47

Tiamat paced around the office, waiting. Today, the first potential Chosen would complete the trial. Despite his nearly five-meter height and the barely restrained power that blurred the space around him, he moved with eerie grace, as if gliding above the ground. His aura of power carried a black hue, giving him a terrifying appearance—most saw him as a figure draped in a dark shroud. Even his subordinates feared him, let alone ordinary people. Gods weakened in his presence, their strength draining away. Mortals either died outright or succumbed to mindless terror.

He had only drawn his weapon—a scythe—a handful of times in this world, yet each instance had been enough to reshape entire continents. Only four beings had ever rivaled his might. Three were already gone, and today, Izumi—the second strongest in existence—would arrive. But Tiamat’s agitation had nothing to do with anticipation of battle.

A year and a half ago, while hunting in the Veil, Tiamat had carelessly let a single throwing spike slip beyond its boundaries, landing near a trial zone. One of the examinees had picked it up. The boy refused to return it, and Tiamat, unwilling to disrupt the trial or kill him with his mere presence, had done nothing—except grant him one concession: should he die in the trial, his spirit would be sent to the Gray Lands. There, Tiamat could reclaim the spike.

Now, the boy had reached Set’s territory. If he used the spike here, Set could die. A single oversight by the Overseer might cost his subordinate his life. The Keeper found the situation amusing—"Flawless, meticulous Tiamat made a mistake." But even the Keeper now wanted to punish the boy for his countless violations.

Izumi entered the office and immediately delivered the news Tiamat had been waiting for.

"Set’s alive. I terminated the trial—deemed it potentially lethal. The Keeper authorized it."

"Ugh." Tiamat sank into his chair, turning toward the window where the ocean stretched endlessly. A second chair materialized beside him, and Izumi took a seat. "No casualties?"

"None. The moment the examinee entered the zone, I pulled him out. The titans are intact, the floor guardians have regenerated." Izumi glanced at the underwater world beyond the glass. "Still in the same office at the bottom of the sea?"

"It’s the only place in this world where I don’t have to suppress my power. And you’re the only one who can stand near me without seeing just a black shroud." Tiamat exhaled. "What about the boy?"

"Oh, the Keeper nearly executed him. The brat used his enemies to craft activatable weapons. By this world’s rules, he shouldn’t grow beyond his natural threshold before adulthood or parental consent. We… adjusted that, with some allowances. But the fact that he kept growing stronger with each level was alarming. He developed such resistance that he waltzed through the final stretch of the eighth trial zone. Imagine if he’d pushed his weapons to the limit?"

"I saw his fight in the astral. The Keeper was so furious at his audacity and rule-breaking that he obliterated an island and summoned examinees from other worlds. The boy just started picking them off with a bow. When the others retreated—helpless—the Keeper lost it and sicced an officer armed with the boy’s own gear on him. If you hadn’t stepped in, we’d have lost our first potential Chosen."

"Problem solved. The weapon’s confiscated until either ten replicas exist in this world or he ascends to a higher plane. The latter’s more likely—nobody alive can craft something like that now. Plus, the gods are bound to monitor their flocks."

The coffee maker beeped, and Tiamat poured two cups. A millennium and a half of cycles, yet some habits never changed.

"How did the locals take the interference? Did Akashi pull off his plan?" Tiamat, though responsible for this world, cared little for the fate of those who left.

"Oh, absolutely. He founded his own nation—Lunar. His team and the ones who crossed the World Junction now live isolated on their home planet’s moon. Lunar sells access to this world, claiming they’re the developers. Really, they’re just localizers. Though most who reach the Junction do the same."

"After first contact, we expected nothing from them. He surpassed all predictions."

"Don’t worry, Tiamat." Izumi, chatty from coffee and cookies—a weakness Tiamat knew well—leaned in. "You think we were cruel, stripping the boy’s accumulated power and weapon."

"Yes."

"That artificial floor was designed to hone the Chosen’s intellect. Completing all trial zones grants enhanced mental abilities. Death means losing everything, forcing a fresh start. We assumed groups would tackle it together—not that a lone Chosen would clear the Gray Lands, build resistance, and persist for a year and a half. None of the others had his patience or cunning. We left him what matters most for someone who can’t raise his power level: knowledge, reason, and experience."

"But an activatable weapon! How many times in history has someone brought one into our trials?"

"I remember. But you’re underestimating him. Severely. He’s an exception. If I’m right, he’ll gain far more than he lost. Besides… we left him something."