I watched Rob walk down the street. His back hunched slightly but his presence was still sharp.
Soon, he faded into the distance.
But his words remained in my mind, lingering like a stain I couldn’t quite scrub out.
Doesn’t matter what kind of man he was. You had no right to play god. — that was what he said to me.
I scoffed under my breath.
And what did he know?
If anyone in this world had the right to play god, it was me.
Who else knew of the grim future that awaited this world?
Who else had the power to defy the will of the heavens and carve a new path in stone?
Who else held humanity’s destiny in their grasp?
Not him. Not anyone.
Every single person in this world dangled from the strings tied to my fingers, all blissfully unaware of their own powerlessness as they moved to serve my whims.
They were all puppets. And their lives depended on my decisions.
Each choice I made was consequential enough to shake the entire course of this story.
If I so desired, I could kill all the main characters.
And if I did that, nothing — no divine intervention, no cosmic balance, not even fate itself — could stop the Spirit King’s rise.
This world would be doomed.
So, by allowing the heroes to live, I was, in a way, granting this world permission to persist.
That was the power I held.
The power to dictate the shape of this story.
The power worthy of a god.
I let out a slow breath and shook my head.
Never mind. It didn’t matter what that old man thought. It didn’t matter what anyone thought of me.
The end of this arc had begun.
It was time to make my move.
My gaze drifted back to the children.
The game they were playing had restarted.
One of the other boys was now playing the role of the knight with a wooden sword in hand.
Meanwhile, the other kids scattered around him like beasts, giggling and shrieking.
And then, my eyes found her.
The girl from earlier.
She was laughing innocently like children often do, her braids bouncing behind her as she ran, and her green eyes gleaming with delight.
So carefree. So unaware.
I bent down, pretending to tie my shoelace.
Behind me, unseen by the children or anyone else on the street, my Origin Card manifested.
A luminous golden glow flickered briefly before blending into the afternoon light.
I lowered my hand to the ground.
The moment my fingertips made contact with the road, a faint pulse of energy rippled outward.
The very matter beneath my touch stirred, eager to yield to my command.
And so, I willed it.
As a result, the earth shifted under that girl’s foot — just slightly, just enough.
She was running as the ground below her turned soft for a moment. Her next step landed wrong.
She tripped.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she hit the pavement, her small hands scraping against the rough surface, her knee slamming down hard.
For a moment, everything went still.
Then came the tears.
She sniffled, her breath hitching as she pushed herself up on trembling little arms. Blood welled up from the scrape on her knee, looking all the more red against her pale skin.
The other children froze as well. Their laughter died.
Then, panic set in.
One of the boys rushed to her side, his face tight with concern. “Are you okay?”
She bit her lip, trying — and failing — to hold back more tears. A soft whimper escaped her. “It… hurts…”
Another boy, the one who was pretending to be the knight this time, spoke in frantic urgency. “We need to take her to Sister Alvara! She’ll know what to do!”
The others nodded in quick agreement.
“Can you get up, Tis?” the other girl in the group asked.
Tis, the injured girl, shook her head as tears started spilling freely down her cheeks now.
“N-No…” she whispered.
I leaned back against the bench, watching them with mild interest.
It was fascinating.
Her pain was temporary. It was a minor injury, barely worth a second thought. She would be fine in a few hours.
And yet, her friends acted as if she had been struck down by a blade.
How delicate they all were.
How… fragile.
When I was their age, my clan’s martial arts instructor used to make me punch scorching hot sand to toughen my knuckles.
If I so much as winced, he’d call my sister over just so she could mock me.
Honestly, that hurt more than the damn sand.
I exhaled, letting a quiet chuckle escape me.
Shaking my head, I rose from the bench and walked toward them. The children stiffened when they saw me approach.
I kept my expression calm and knelt before the girl.
She hiccupped, valiantly trying to stifle her sobs now that she realized a stranger — a grown-up, no less — was watching.
I offered her the most amicable smile I could muster and extended my hand.
“Here,” I said gently. “Let me help you. Can you tell me your name and where your home is?”
•••
Sister Alvara walked through the quiet streets, feeling the cool evening breeze against her skin.
The lamps lining the road flickered softly from time to time, and the air was heavy with the scent of approaching rain.
It had been a long day.
Managing the church was never easy, especially when half the clergy seemed incapable of handling even the simplest matters without her guidance.
The High Priest was wise but he had been going out way too often these days.
While she was a bit curious to know where an overly religious person like the High Priest was spending his time, she also didn’t want to intrude.
So, she kept her quiet and did her job.
And between overseeing prayers, organizing alms, and keeping the faithful from tearing each other apart over minor theological disputes, she was exhausted.
Still, it was a fulfilling life.
She exhaled, rolling her shoulders as her house came into view. It was a modest home between the towering structures of the church district.
But the moment she saw the warm glow spilling from the window, she froze.
She was certain she hadn’t left the lights on.
A thousand possibilities ran through her mind.
Had someone broken in?
Had Tis come home early and forgotten to put the lights out? Because usually, by this time she’d be taking her evening nap.
Had something else happened?
A sudden sense of unease coiled in her chest.
She hurried forward. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel as she reached for the door.
It wasn’t locked.
Slowly, she pushed it open.
And the very first thing that greeted her was the scent of food — warm and savory and spicy.
Something had been cooked.
Then, she heard it.
Laughter.
Not just any laughter. Tis’ laughter.
Her brows furrowed as she stepped inside. The sight before her made her pause.
At the small dining table in the room next to the lobby sat her little sister. There was a half-eaten plate of food in front of her.
And sitting across from her, with the casual ease of someone who belonged there, was a boy who seemed to be in his late teens.
He had black hair and matching dark eyes, albeit there was a tint of gold to them.
The boy looked normal in every regard, just another face you’d see walking down the street and forget.
…However, there was an air of aristocracy around him. His posture was too confident, and his presence too magnetic.
He was leaning forward, resting his chin on his hand as he listened to Tis excitedly ramble about something with a faint smirk playing on his lips.
Tis, completely unbothered by the presence of a man who should not be here, continued. Her hands waved animatedly as she spoke.
“—and then Tommy said that knights can’t beat dragons without magic, but that’s stupid, right? Because magic doesn’t exist. And a really strong knight could totally—”
She stopped mid-sentence when she finally noticed her big sister standing there.
“Alvy!” she chirped, beaming. “You’re home!”
The eyes flicked toward her, his smirk widening just a fraction.
And it was then Alvara remembered him. He was the same boy who visited her church a few days ago.
The same boy with whom she debated about the concept of faith and…
Alvara didn’t move. Her mind was still processing the scene in front of her.
Slowly, her gaze shifted to Tis, noticing a bandage on her knee.
“Tis,” she said, rushing up to her. “You were hurt?”
Tis nodded, a little sheepish. “Tripped while playing. But Mister Samael helped! He found me and brought me home. He even made dinner!”
Alvara’s eyes snapped back to the boy.
He gave a smile that would’ve been charming under different circumstances. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
Alvara didn’t know what to say.
She took a deep breath and smoothened her expression before stepping further into the room.
Her little beamed at her from the table.
“Tis,” Alvara said, keeping her tone gentle. “Can you explain why we have a guest?”
Tis perked up. “Oh! He brought me home ’cause I couldn’t walk properly, Alvy. And then I asked him to stay for dinner. He made the food, too!”
Alvara’s brows rose. “He made dinner?”
“Uh-huh!” Tis nodded enthusiastically. “His stew is so good! You should try it!”
The boy — Samael — spoke again. His voice was smooth and gentle, not callous and cold like she heard the other day.
“Your sister was insistent,” he said. “I didn’t want to intrude, but she’s quite persuasive.”
Tis giggled, clearly pleased with herself.
Alvara folded her arms, regarding Samael for a moment. His demeanor was calm, respectful even.
It was completely different from when they last talked.
Still, she couldn’t exactly fault him for helping her sister, nor could she ignore the fact that Tis had invited him in.
“Well,” Alvara said after a pause, “it seems I don’t have much choice now, do I?”
She gave Tis a faint smile. “But next time, you ask me before inviting someone inside, understood?”
“Yes, Alvy,” Tis said, a little sheepishly, though her grin didn’t fade.
Alvara turned to Samael. “Thank you for helping my sister. It seems I owe you some gratitude.”
“It was no trouble,” he replied with an easy shrug. “I happened to be in the area and couldn’t leave her there. The food was just a small way to repay her kindness for letting me stay until you returned.”
Alvara nodded slowly. “I see.”
She set her satchel down by the door and walked toward the table, glancing at the plates. The smell of the meal was enticing, though she was too wary to fully appreciate it.
“Please,” Samael said, gesturing toward the empty chair. “Join us. There’s plenty left.”
For a moment, Alvara hesitated.
She looked at Tis, whose eyes sparkled with excitement, and then back at Samael. Reluctantly, she sat down.
The tension in her chest didn’t ease, but she forced herself to smile for Tis’s sake.
“Alright,” she said. “But I’ll handle the dishes.”
Samael chuckled softly. “Fair enough.”
And as the meal continued, Tis chattered on about her day. Her energy was boundless despite her earlier injury.
Samael listened attentively, occasionally chiming in with a question or a comment that made the little girl laugh.
Alvara watched him carefully, trying to gauge his intentions.
He was polite, intelligent, and unerringly composed, but there was something just beneath the surface — something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Still, she reminded herself, he had helped Tis.
And Tis also seemed to like him very much, which was strange because she’d always been wary of strangers.
Usually, it took weeks — months, even— for Tis to warm up to anyone new. She’d cling to Alvara’s side and only offer shy nods or whispers when spoken to.
But she seemed so comfortable with this boy.
So, for now, Alvara decided to drop her guard a bit. She joined her hands, prayed to the Goddess for providing the food, and started eating.